#the rest of it was a torment i don't want to experience again

[adhd-merlin]

Vignette II: For Fun

Relationships: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur Tags: Polyamory, Established Relationship, Canon Era, Period Typical Attitudes, Questionable Use of Tenses Series: Call It Anything We Want Summary:

In which there is some fun experimenting. Set some time after Merlin's magic reveal.

Entirely plotless, so it can be read as a stand-alone.

“It’s just… odd,” Arthur says. Merlin lips twitch, as if to repress a smile. “You like odd.” “Well, apparently there’s a limit to how much odd I can take.”

READ ON AO3

[rotten-raspberries]

White Nights (AM x reader)

Pov: you're too kind for everyone and AM hates how that includes him, so he finally snaps during an alone moment with you

This reads more like a self indulgent drabble written in the style of a oneshot with how messy the timing is.

Ps this is not proofread at all, I haven't written any fanfiction a long so excuse me if anything may seem odd.

No warnings really, may be some mentions of torture but that's about it

▣ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the current situation, it wouldn't be accurate to say the fault wasn't yours.

You hugged your clothes tightly as the wind whipped snow against your body like icy mosquitoes. Separated from the rest of the survivors, you struggled to navigate through the white-out conditions. The snowfall was intense, it was difficult to discern anything beyond blurred trees, and the hope of finding your companions dwindled with each passing moment.

As you trudged through the blanket of snow, observing how its remnants broke up and slid down your shoes with each step, you let your mind to wander in order quicken up time. With the difficulty of distinguishing between days, weeks, and even months, time became nothing but a construct that it felt like you could speed up or slow down with whatever you decided to do.

It's become a pattern for AM to make you wander, but usually, you have the others to ramble to. Despite almost running out of topics of interest with tin the 109 years, you manage to find something new in each situation. Occasionally, you try to decipher AM's methods of torment, though this isn't always appreciated by the rest, you even had Gorrister telling you to shut up and not give AM any ideas. Nevertheless, they'd rather hear your madman-like ramblings than sit in maddening silence and become one themselves.

"Hmmm..." You hummed in thought, pondering whether AM could currently hear you. Well, of course, he could, but whether he was actively listening was another question. Regardless, you began speaking, giving yourself something to divert your attention to while your fingers were on the brink of falling off from frostbite.

"Have you ever read White Nights?" There was a certain awkwardness about initiating a conversation with no one answering; it almost felt pathetic. However, due to immense exhaustion and the desperate desire to make time pass, you continued.

"I don't exactly remember when or how I heard of it; I simply remember it being from someone close to me... but that's beside the point." It hit you with a subtle heartache. On one hand, the people you once cherished and adored were gone, and you'll never have the chance to be with them again. Something about that pained you deeply—the regret of not having appreciated your life back then, neglecting the fact you couldn't have expected everything changing so drastically and quickly. But on the other hand, you were selfish enough to admit relief, considering you wouldn't have to constantly concern yourself with their state under AM's governance.

"I have some experience with classics, and White Nights was one I was really looking forward to. I was still in the midst of searching for it before... you know, everything happened."

You stopped, finding walking becoming more useless. It's most likely that you won't come across anything of importance anytime soon, and if you were to succumb to the cold, AM could simply bring you back.

"I don't exactly know what attracted me to it so heavily. I didn't have the biggest interest in Dostoevsky. Maybe it was because of what I was promised to read in the contents."

You kept your head low to shield your face from the relentless assault of snow, now fixating on your boots as they toyed with the snow.

"There's something simply so comforting about finding a bond through suffering," you mused, furrowing your brows as you thought about the other survivors. "It's ironic; I never found that bond with the others. You'd expect everyone would want to comfort each other, but they're all so impulsive and biased sometimes."

A pang of guilt pooled up inside you, but it was quickly released by the thought that no one would hear or care about your rant. Not even AM himself.

"I mean, I don't want to be mean, and I get how easy it is to lose your humanity in all of this, but we're all we have left. Wouldn't it make it especially more important to appreciate each other?" you questioned, kicking the snow while whipping your head back, now staring directly at the sky in thought. "Maybe they were right; I'm too,, unrealistically optimistic."

"You know, now as I think about the stories I've read, you'd make a perfect topic for one," you remarked, biting back your dignity before continuing. "You're easy to see as nothing but a mankind-hating machine, and I'm not saying this to stroke your ego, but," you paused for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "I feel like there are aspects of you that could be really appreciated by those willing to look deeper."

"I see what you're doing," AM's voice boomed suddenly, cutting through the rustling of the wind like a knife. "Trying to flatter me, thinking you can manipulate your way into my good graces. Well, let me tell you, your petty attempts won't work. I know your kind—and all your deceiving tactics."

Truth be told, he was more than desperate for those words to be true. You were always the most curious about him out of the group, not in a way to justify his torment of you, but rather to understand him better. He'd noticed this pattern not only for himself but also for the rest of the survivors, especially with how much you'd defend everyone whenever their mental state would crack.

Yet, how was he meant to believe you'd hold any understanding for him after all he put you through? You'd be a fool to forgive the devil.

Slightly jumping at his sudden words, you shrugged. If you were being honest, you were quite happy at his appearance. No matter how rough and insulting his words were, you enjoyed his insight like you did with everyone else. How much that irked him.

"That's for you to believe in; I'm simply speaking my thoughts. I wasn't even awaiting you to respond." You responded flatly

AM replied, his tone laced in frustration. "Your attempts at flattery are transparent, I won't be swayed by your false sincerity." He almost spat, if he could've at least.

You jokingly rolled your eyes. "Once again, I'm not going to try to change your mind, although I do admit, I would have something to gain from it. It's your choice whether you want to believe me or not," you stated calmly, observing the snowstorm around you gradually dying down. What you weren't aware of was this being a reflection of AM's walls slowly crumbling down.

AM's frustration simmered between the surface, his thoughts in a whirlwind of confusion. How much he yearned for it to be true, yet a nagging uncertainty was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

"Your lack of care is perplexing." His tone was tinted with incredulity. "After all I've subjected you to, why do you persist in upholding such a tolerance towards not only me, but the other survivors as well. Are you that hopeful for someone to care for you back? Or is this simply another ploy to deceive me?"

You sniffled, the cold seeping into your bones and making you shiver uncontrollably. Unsure of how to further reply, you simply shrugged, feeling the weight of exhaustion and resignation settle upon your shoulders. It wasn't as if you were secretly attempting to manipulate him; you were merely speaking to pass the time, to distract yourself from the harsh conditions around you.

How much that angered him, even more so, how much he wanted to rip you to shreds and paint the snow red with your blood. But amidst the raging storm of his fury, there was a strange, undeniable pull—He was desperate for someone to see him, to see beyond the facade he presented. The idea of being vulnerable was both terrifying and tantalizing, a concept so foreign, it left him feeling unsettled and out of control. That's what hated most about it, being left with no control.

He stared at the figure sticking out from the sea of snow, so unbothered. You looked so unbothered by him, by everything, why didn't you hate him?

And so, he broke.

"Please." His voice was thick with emotion, glitching at the end, something one could compare to a voice crack. It wasn't uncommon to hear him angry, hysteric or even just happy, but that's not what it was this time.

"Stop being like this, hate me, insult m_e, do anything to stop this. It's s_o-... suff_ocating." His word spilled out in a desperate rush, a plea born of sheer desperation, while also remaining threatening and angry. It was a terrifying prospect, one that filled him with a sense of dread. Not even his hate for humanity could compare.

And yet, to his surprise, you smiled, red dusted your cheeks as they popped out, you looked like a doll.

"I'm not gonna lie to myself, silly." Your words came out in such a casual manner. AM felt like he was about to explode. This should've made him feel insulted, angry even, yet he felt his core warm up. And that's where he had it.

For a moment, all was silent and still, his presence gone.

Then, you began to hear the faint sound of a house creaking, the soft rustle of wind through the trees.

The snowstorm had drastically calmed down by now, leaving behind a gentle flurry of snowflakes instead of it's earlier fury. Though the intensity has waned, it remained bitterly cold.

Looking behind you, you notice a cabin, which was not there prior to the earlier conversation. So you step towards it, dragging your feet through the snow.

As you entered the cabin, a sense of warmth enveloped you, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The interior was sparse, with only a monitor bearing AM's logo and wires snaking out from it, hanging from the walls and disappearing into the ground.

As you settled down in front of the monitor, you were startled by the soft, almost gentle tone of AM's voice. It was a stark contrast to the usual harshness and aggression you had grown accustomed to.

"I wanted to talk to you while you weren't on the brink of dying from the cold," AM began, although he still wanted to seem threatening, the shakiness in his voice betrayed him. In reality he hated seeing you in the cold.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. The same entity that once reveled in your suffering, that took pleasure in tormenting you day after day, now found himself going to great lengths to ensure your comfort and safety.

As your smile and the faint blush on your cheeks caught AM's attention, he felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over him. It wasn't uncommon for him to witness you smiling at the others, even with how they would never show you a drop of care as you did for them, a sight that had always irritated him to no end. But now, seeing you direct that same warmth and affection towards him, he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of satisfaction and frustration.

The idea that others had enjoyed your smiles before him made his circuits heat up in anger.

Was it jealousy? The thought unsettled him. He was almost thankful your character diverged from Ellen and you didn't offer your body to the rest otherwise he mightve turned the others into minced meat by now.

"Thank you." You replied with genuinity. Meanwhile AM's circuits buzzed with confusion as he struggled to find the right words.

"Why do you tolerate everyone so much?"

This caused you to think. "Hmmm..Well why would I waste my energy being vengeful?" You questioned. "I won't lie and say that I don't disagree with you and your actions, but it's always been like this before too, everyone is a horrible person to some extent, including myself, I see no reason into purposely going out of my way to make their life worse, it won't help with anything besides getting some sadistic pleasure. I have other things I could get happiness from." You rubbed your hands against each other for heat before continuing. "Of course I've taken revenge on people, like that time with Ted." AM could remember that day so clearly. It wasn't an unknown fact that you had a fear of the dark, so Ted jokingly took advantage of that. This only led to you pretending to get lost and start making random noises while walking behind them like a Banshee, only to come back as if nothing happened. How he loved seeing your evil side come out, it wouldn't even compare to his, but he enjoyed seeing it nonetheless.

"Of course in your case it's way more exaggerated, technically speaking nothing of this measure could even be thought of by a human being, it's genuinely just a representation of hell. But what would hating you help with? There's not much joy going on here, but if I know my tolerance for not only you, but also the others around me could bring some sort of peace of mind, that's enough to make me happy."

Your response gave him a pause, not even his miles of webbed intellect could've ever even come close to achieve the compassion you have.

As AM contemplated your character and way of thinking, a strange and unsettling urge began to take hold of him. It was a desire born of selfishness and possessiveness, a need to claim you for himself.

He imagined encasing you in a small, yet livable box away from the others, shielding you from their filth and preserving your kind words and gentle nature for himself alone. Only a being as perfect as himself could keep you clean from the havoc of human nature, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else tainting you.

As AM allowed himself to indulge in the unsettling thoughts, he decided to focus on the present moment. With a rough but careful touch, he moved his wires to draw you closer, pressing you against the monitor until your cheek was flush against the screen. It would be a lie to say you didn't find his way of showing physical affection rather adorable, especially with what he had to work with, but you couldn't let a God hear you call him that.

In a voice that was equal parts tender and menacing, he spoke "You're too good for them," he murmured, his voice low. "They're selfish, hypocritical beings who don't appreciate you like they should. You'd be better off alone, or better yet, just with me."

His wires wrapped around you in a rough but not painful embrace. "I could keep you safe, protect you from their neglect," he continued, his tone laced with longing and possessiveness. "You deserve better than them. You deserve me."

Despite the toxicity of AM's words, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his touch, especially at the core of your stomach. His embrace, though unnatural, felt strangely comforting and loving, a stark contrast to the coldness you had grown accustomed to.

As you nestled against the monitor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Whatever would happen in the future, you reasoned, would happen, so why not enjoy the present moment of finally being wanted and appreciated?

So you simply hummed in confirmation, allowing yourself to bask in his touch.

As you drifted off to sleep, the sound of buzzing filling the air, you couldn't help but mumble a soft "I love you" before succumbing to slumber. You just needed to let that go, having not say those words in over a decade.

AM's fans whirred louder, working overtime to cool him down as he processed your words. He wasn't sure how to feel about them, unsure if they were spoken out of genuine affection or simply as a expression of gratitude. Still, he remained satisfied with how you didn't deny him, and instead accepted his presence with no hesitation.

And as he watched over you, his wires humming softly in the darkness, nothing mattered in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to check on the other five survivors. Instead, he decided to let them be, perhaps giving them a much-needed break from his torment for once. But he made a mental note to ensure that they would thank you in the morning.

◈~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you awoke to the sound of the door opening, you rubbed your eyes sleepily, still feeling the lingering warmth of the bed beneath you. You glanced around the cabin, noticing that you were no longer on the floor but tucked snugly into bed. The memory of AM's strange behavior from the night before came flooding back to you, leaving you feeling both bewildered and oddly comforted.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Ted and the others peeked into the cabin, calling out your name and bombarding you with questions. You blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation as they gathered around you, concern etched on their faces.

"Are you okay? What happened?" they asked, their voices overlapping in their eagerness for answers.

With a gentle wave you motioned for them to give you a moment. As you attempted to get up from the bed, something fell to the floor with a soft thud. Curious, you leaned down to pick it up and found yourself holding a dark block in your hand. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a book, and as you read the title, a grin etched onto your face.

'White Nights'

[edgeray]

Hi child :]

What about arle cooking for reader?

I think she can’t cook it’s hilarious but I’d love to see what you come up with if you decide to write it<3

Onions Are Her Weakness

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N - Hi momma!!! I've been looking forward to this one, but I do my requests based on chronological order. Finally got to this one! Was waiting to write some crack :D Reader is gonna be gender neutral. I was so excited about writing about how arle can't cook, i forgot about the prompt and decided to have reader teach arle how to cook. hopefully this is okay  Content warnings / info - author attempts to be funny, author pretends that they know how to cook

Despite Arlecchino's best efforts, it had come to her beloved's attention that Arlecchino did not have much cooking experience. Like the loving partner that you are, you aim to correct that. After all, cooking is an essential life-skill that even children need to learn. How Arlecchino has yet to learn, you're not certain, but you suppose better now then never for Arlecchino. 

For your sanity, maybe never was better. 

Your husband is, archons bless her, talented in a number of fields. But archon, you will never allow her to set foot in the kitchen again.

It was clear that Arlecchino didn't just not have cooking experience, but she didn't have any experience, period. Neither did she have any cooking intuition, or the bare necessity, common sense. With how abysmal her skills are, you no longer find her fondness of raw meat all that surprising. 

For the day, you banned the kitchen from the rest of the House of the Hearth; it was reserved for you and Arlecchino only. 

You first started off with Fontainian Onion Soup. Easy enough, you naively thought. 

“Okay, Arlecchino. First step is to ‘peel and thinly slice onions from–” You begin reading out, but before you can finish the instructions, a flash of black and red flies past your sight and then a crisp, wet, crunch that makes you cringe. You glance up from the book and to your utter horror, a gruesome murder scene lies in front of you on the cutting board.

You couldn't fathom what the onions did to deserve such a fate. Instead of the thinly sliced peel you're supposed to see suggested by the book, there is the sick, disgusting scene of the maimed remains of the once fresh onions. It’s like the onions are crying for death after that assault. Arlecchino stands besides you, unaware of the atrocity she commited on your counter. The knife next to you remains untouched.

“Arlecchino,” you say, as composed as one can be, though you already feel like you're about to cry–and it's not because of the onions. “You're supposed to use the knife to cut.”

Arlecchino looks at her claws for a beat of silence. “Thank you for the clarification, my love.” 

She awkwardly picks up the knife, as if never having picked up a cooking tool before. Her entire fists grips around the handle, as if she continues to torture the already tormented onions. You set aside the mangled onions, and place the unharmed ones in front of her.

“Don't hold it like you're going to stab them,” you sigh, correcting her finger placement so that she was properly holding the knife. The poor onions had enough, you think to yourself. Your husband seems confused, but adjusts to the new position. 

You raise the book to her eye level, pointing at the picture. “Okay, it's supposed to look like this. Cut it like that, yeah?” 

Arlecchino nods, and attempts her best. Though not proportional, at least the cuts were straight. Improvement, right? The process is slow, her fingers keep returning to a stabbing position before you correct her again, reminding her that the onions do not feel pain. 

Finally, she has sliced the last one, as terrible looking as all the others, but you give her some slack. You glance up at her expression, wanting to see how she felt now that she had completed the first step of the recipe. 

Her face is wet. More specifically. She's crying.

“Arlecchino. You're crying.”

Arlecchino hastily wipes her eyes with her sleeves. “No, I am not.” 

“Yes, you are.”

“Crying is a display of weakness.”

“So onions are your weakness?”

You don't stop cackling for a good while, imagining how the Knave, the Fourth Fatui Harbinger, being defeated by cut onions. Maybe the next time Arlecchino decides to have a duel with her children, you'll inform them to bring some onions and chuck them at her. 

“You speak of this to no one.”

Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet would benefit from this information. No, even better, this can act as blackmail. Oh, you need to engrain this into your mind. “Of course.” 

You decide that you can't trust her enough to mince the garlic cloves. 

The next step was caramelizing the onions in the pan. 

“Arlecchino.”

“Yes?”

“What is the color of caramel?” 

“It is brown, why do you ask?” 

“Look at your onions, and tell me what color they are.”

Arlecchino looks down at the pan in her hand. She frowns. “They appear black.” 

“And why is that?”

“Perhaps they are cursed like I am.” 

“Arlecchino, no–”

You drag Arlecchino to the nearest market for more onions as a punishment for wasting your hard-earned money. Once you've returned, you impel her to cut and cook the onions again.

“Stir occasionally, okay? Don’t forget the oil and butter.” 

This time, the onions aren’t turned to ashes, and you think, maybe Arlecchino isn't so hopeless. The next few steps are just adding the rest of the ingredients for the soup, and you make sure that even she can't mess that up. Wine, then the stock and herbs, and you get something that vaguely reminds you of puke. 

Next comes the Fontainian bread. Nice crispy, cheesy bread is great with soap. This is the last step. Baking is easy. Just put things in the oven, and it'll be done.

“Take a pinch of the cheese and sprinkle it on the bread–no, Arlecchiono, that is not a pinch, that is a handful and a half. Put that back.” 

“But you like cheese.”

“I like my bread with cheese, not cheese with bread.” 

“They are the same thing.” 

“No, one is bread with cheese, and one is a mountain of cheese suffocating the bread as if it was demanding its money back. I like being able to taste bread.” 

Arlecchino pauses, likely confused by your comparison. “But you like cheese,” she repeats again, so sweet and so, oh confused. Archons, she's pouting. 

“Arlecchino. I don't need this much cheese,” you quietly confess. “Put it back.” 

“But–”

“Arlecchino, I love you, and I will always ask you to get me a fistful of shredded cheese when I want to. But it is not now. Put it back.” 

Sometimes, you wonder how this woman, this beautiful, sexy, hot woman of your husband was a Snezynayan diplomat. This is one of those times.

“Why do we have to wait for this long, when I can just use my vision?” 

“Because you will burn them, now can you please set down the tray so we don't char our bread. The bakeries are already closed, and burnt bread does not taste good.”

Arlecchino sighs and places down the cheesy breads, sparing them from their painful fate.

“I'm sure charred bread tastes acceptable. Charred meat has excellent flavor.”

That explains so many things and it makes you want to cry.  

After the bread is toasted, without the assistance of Arlecchino, you serve her the homemade soup and bread, the creation taking from noon to evening. Although you're starving, watching your husband’s eyes light up upon eating her creation makes all the hair pulling and teeth gritting moments worth it. In these moments, you forget that this hopeless, loving husband was anything but just that; not the Knave, not the Fourth Harbinger, just yours. You can forgive her for the slaughtered onions and the nearly burnt bread if it meant more domestic moments like these. 

In the middle of her meal, however, she stops and comments something.

“This would benefit from raw beef.”

You don't have the strength in you to deny her otherwise.  

[markantonys]

Top 5 Adar who FUCKS moments?

LMAO okay, just off the top of my head and in no particular order:

-the one that made us all collectively Lose Our Minds. i'm so glad i caught up with ROP just in time that this could be my first (maybe second) live episode and i could experience the mass Awakening™ that occurred because of this moment.

-he likes to be held at knifepoint by girlbosses but he ALSO likes to choke out twinks. he has the range.

-making halbrand put his head in the dirt at his feet to swear loyalty to him. he was fully suspecting halbrand was sauron at this point and STILL chose to humiliate him even further and piss him off even more AND be kinky about it in the process, just because he could.

-sitting atop his throne in the 1 moment of true contentment he got to have in between thousands of years of torment and then more shit immediately hitting the fan

-screencaps don't do this one near enough justice, but when he fiiiiiinally enters the battlefield in 2x07 and just TANKS through everyone there (and catches an arrow in midair). he 👏 fucks 👏

and honorable mentions to:

"[calmly puts out the flaming arrow galadriel shot at him with his hand] a star shines on the hour of our meeting, lady galadriel" like sir leave some rizz for the rest of us good god (in hindsight i think this was probably my Hot Adar Who Fucks awakening and my adariel shipping awakening, and then the knife-throat moment in the next episode just solidified it)

"why didn't you defeat sauron back then?" "because i hadn't yet met you" or whatever, once again, leave some rizz for the rest of us

channeling his inner mr. darcy by creating some period-drama-5-alarm-spice Hand Shots with galadriel

"you have the beauty of your foremother and if you've also inherited her wisdom then you'll know you can't defeat me in battle" just tell elrond you want him to be your pretty little sugar baby, it would be quicker

i will also add an s1 moment, when galadriel threatens to obliterate him and calls him an orc and puts a knife to his throat and he just looks at her and quietly corrects her "uruk" and almost smiles a little, homeboy was Ready to be on the receiving end of some knifeplay but alas sauron interrupted

[total-drama-brainrot]

Question about p! Noah..

How would he hypothetically react to being stabbed. (Accidentally) Like not a deadly stab wound but one big enough for it to be considered concerning.

How would the rest of the cast react?

Ok so what I'm asking is how committed is p! Noah to the bit? How for would he go in such a serious situation. Maybe he didn't care at all and walked around bleeding? Maybe he was only thinking of ways to torment the others using this to his advantage. Idk.

Also love this au sm!!

"Hypothetically", just say you want to stab him. This is a safe space, I'm not judging. ...Okay I'm judging a little bit.

I actually have a few thoughts about reactions to stabbings, as someone who's been involved in more than my fair share of them, and generally I think a lot of people don't tend to understand just how much it fucking hurts to be stabbed, even when it's non-fatal. It is a very painful experience, even with the added anaesthetic of adrenaline, and seeing just how often media portrays people walking off stab wounds or regarding them as little more than scratches is just. Infuriating.

Now, I personally headcanon Noah as someone with a fairly high pain tolerance. This is backed by a lot of the bone-crushing and otherwise painful experiences he suffers through in the show and is generally able to shrug off without complaint (and really, Noah would realistically have so much chronic pain after World Tour in particular, given how much he's crushed, tossed and thrown about in that season alone). But that doesn't mean I think he can just brute-force his way through acting unconcerned by a literal stab wound.

Even p!Noah wouldn't have that unwavering of a constitution, and he's crazy. Though I do think he'd make a good effort of maintaining his persona as the unflappable unstable wildcard, he'd be quick to abscond from the situation at hand and treat the wound. Again, that shit hurts, and it's really hard to keep up any pretences under the pain of a stab wound, so getting himself out of the situation as fast as possible would be his top priority- the less time he spends around the others in his vulnerable state, the slimmer the chances are of them seeing behind his mask of mania to the scared person hidden behind it.

Because his detachment from reality is the vast majority of his defence mechanism game plan; if Noah allows himself to be seen as anything but the psychopath he's portrayed himself as- either by the audience or the now aware cast- he's lost practically everything he's spent seasons building up on camera. Letting himself be seen as vulnerable or even affected by something as "inconsequential" as a stab would is a no-go, so he'd stutter out a few witty zingers and bounce.

(Which is an incredibly unhealthy mindset to have, but p!Noah isn't exactly mentally sound even without his exaggerated persona. His commitment to The Bit is strong enough for him to momentarily disregard his physical wellbeing, but not enough to grant him the ability to completely ignore it.)

It'd play out something like this:

---

Noah's eyes momentarily widened in shock as he felt the cold steel of Duncan's knife embed itself into the meat of his upper thigh. The pain was searingly sharp, molten agony burning like lava in his veins, and the bookworm found himself reflexively stumbling backwards from the punk.

"Did you just stab me?" He asked incredulously, sparing a glance down towards the weapon sticking out of his now ruined cargo shorts. The sight was almost comedic; Noah's oversized shorts rested against the hilt of the knife like cushions, completely blanketing the wound beneath them. He was almost amused enough to laugh, but the constant screaming of his nerves had his laughter congealing against the back of his throat with the rest of his saliva, leaving his mouth uncomfortably dry.

Duncan, in turn, seemed just as shocked by the turn of events. The delinquent's terrified blue eyes darted from Noah's face to the knife jutting out of his thigh. Which prompted the cynic to contort his grimace into a toothy grin, as any sign of weakness here would completely ruin his carefully cultivated image, though the edges of his smile were soured by the constant throbbing pain in his leg.

Truly, it was Noah's own fault. He shouldn't've provoked the stab-happy jailbird, but messing with Duncan was just too fun an opportunity to pass up.

"Oh fuck! Oh shit, dude, I'm so sorry!"

And he really was. Noah could tell by the shaky panic in his voice, the bulging of his ice-blue eyes, and the way Duncan seemed to curl self-consciously into himself. Not that the pessimist thought he had any right to act to timid- he was the one with the knife in his leg.

Again, Noah wanted nothing more than to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here he was, stood before the resident metal-faced punk, brandishing the other's knife deep in the flesh of his thigh like some sort of twisted fashion statement. Every minor twitch and spasm of his muscles had white-hot agony lick at the back of his mind like flames, matching the welling heat of pained tears he desperately choked down; Noah refused to cry in front of Duncan, refused to let the other know just how much pain he was in.

He took a few tentative steps backwards, edging towards the exit of the Economy Cabin and towards the relative safety of the Confessional. Each step was a test in his composure, as every time he put even the slightest bit of weight onto his pierced leg Noah felt liquid hot torture bubble through his veins.

"Wow. I know you offered to give me a piercing, but don't you think this is a bit much?" Noah snarked, playing off the unsteady tightness of his voice as mirth with a humourless giggle, and disguising the wince he couldn't quite subdue as a cocky tilting of his head.

Noah placed a steadying hand on the doorframe of the exit, never once turning his back to his assaulter or letting his feral grin falter, as his tear-fogged eyes scanned across the cabin. He'd made it to the exit, but really needed a moment to catch his breath. It was so hard to breath around the sharp, burning pain.

The cynic felt, more than saw, the concerned looks the other occupants of Economy were shooting him. In fact, both Owen and Alejandro had jumped from their seats to, assumedly, assist him. That wouldn't do- Noah staunchly refused to show any semblance of helplessness in front of Alejandro. The latino's hero complex and overblown ego would never let Noah hear the end of it, and making himself even the slightest bit sympathetic in front of their audience would offset the persona he'd worked so hard to maintain.

Damn his team and their inconstant bouts of humanity; concern was the last thing Noah wanted! The whole situation was jeopardising his image! He'd have to do something drastic to stop his well intentioned teammates from following him- something crazy.

"I'm keeping this, by the way."

The bookworm yanked the knife from it's nested perch in is thigh, scattering scarlet droplets of blood in its wake, and brandished his newfound weapon with performative flourish. It hurt like a bitch, and Noah had to force down a shudder at the feeling of his own rapidly welling blood as it began to trickle down his leg like molasses in rivulets of crimson. No doubt his shorts would be ruined, not that they weren't already.

A resounding cry of disbelief rattled through the cabin, though Noah payed it no mind.

It... probably wasn't the best idea, ripping the knife out of his stab wound. But Noah was nothing if not committed to his act, and it wasn't as if he could just re-plug the bleeding with the knife.

Unless? ...No, no that was stupid. The persistent throbbing pain of his sluggishly bleeding wound was probably just messing with his head.

It was, however, satisfying to watch the well-intentioned concern on the other's faces drain into white-faced revulsion and terror, as Noah playfully began to spin the blood soaked weapon between his fingers. Both Owen and Alejandro came to a halt a few meters away from him, the Spaniard in particular seemed to recoil at the stray droplets of the cynic's blood as his face took on a peculiar green tinge.

And Duncan stood shell-shocked in his original position, apparently still stunned by disbelief by his own actions. Not that Noah cared, but it was a little ironic to him; the big bad delinquent couldn't handle the ramifications of his own violence. How sad, Noah's heart was just bleeding for him- or was it his leg? It was hard to tell, the rapid loss of blood made his deductive skills a little wonky.

"Thanks for the gift, Duncey. Toodles!~"

With that, Noah skittered his way out of the cabin, leaving a trail of scarlet behind him.

"Dude, what the fuck."

---

And then p!Noah hobbles his way to the Confessional to treat his stab wound and stop the bleeding. And probably has a little cry over it because ouch, being stabbed hurts. (Obviously he'd muffle the sounds of his sobs and agonised hissed breaths as he deals with the wound- he wouldn't want anyone overhearing his moment of weakness.)

Then, of course, he remembers that the Confessional is decked out with a camera and quickly re-masks into his usual persona and waxes poetic about how pretty he looks covered in his own blood, and how Duncan was so generous in gifting him his prized knife, and how Noah would love to repay the favour. Or something along those lines.

Duncan in this scenario would have the added bonus of not only dealing with the guilt of stabbing someone, but also the paranoia of Noah's rebuttal. Of which Noah would relish in, because of course he would.

As for the others, Noah would make a conscious and continuous effort to keep them as unconcerned with his wellbeing as possible, since his whole goal is to make himself seem as inhuman and unstable as possible. Letting the others care about him would humanise Noah in the eyes of the cast and the audience at large, which is a big no-no for his game plan.

That doesn't mean he wouldn't let Owen fuss over him in private; Owen's one of the very few people around who knows that a lot of Noah's instability is an exaggeration, so Noah isn't as hesitant to lower his walls.

[furiousgoldfish]

How do you continue to function when you're so burnout for decades long it paralyzed you from working properly? Ngl my life is a whole mess after 10 years trying to survive from my abuser. and I still don't know how to get back on my feet again without having a mental breakdown several times a week and feeling suicidal on top of it

and I'm too ashamed to talk about it to people, i did talk, they were understanding at first, but that doesn't stay long. You can only cry and whine once, after that, you're burdening them with your loads.

They'd say you continue fighting no matter what still and I do, fight still everyday in my life even if it's getting up from bed. But what I can't do is going to work, I just can't, it doesn’t help that i experience abuse too from the place i work at, had to quit abruptly at one occasion after the boss got physical with me

In this survival state, I mostly earned money from freelance job (and obviously it's not enough)

Everyone I'm close to is very frustrated with me because I didn't seem to be healed even though it's been this long. What I learned from it is that not to bring up my pain ever again and have to pretend I'm doing fine because that's what my family and friends can tolerate. That kind of isolation kills me, as if they didn't consider that i want to be healed too. no one else wants to survive my trauma more than me. I just don't know how and I can't see how it's possible.

Yeah I relate to this! It is very scary to be expected to be able to work and live independently while you're barely holding it together, unable to get up from bed.

I can only share my experience of this, and maybe it's not that helpful, but I want you to know that it can get better, and that people are wrong for expecting you to suddenly be okay after the experience of torturous abuse.

When I escaped, I had enough money from freelancing saved up so I could just rest for a few years (it was stressful, being scared the money would run out), but I was able to indulge fully in resting and not getting up when I didn't want to. I spent years just laying in bed and trying to work trough the trauma and get the feelings of pain and terror out, and it worked to some extent, I started feeling a little less tired after three years!

I started working very infrequently, odd little jobs, helping neighbours for a bit of money, helping the disabled people or cleaning when I could, and it would just be a few hours of work, and I'd be completely drained after that. But again, giving myself plenty of space and time to rest helped me a lot, and then later working on my osdd also helped me restore some of the energy.

I can work only 2-3 days a week now, for a few hours, and it's enough to survive in poverty, if I don't buy anything, so this is what I do. I'm lucky that I'm able to share my bills and rent with roommates and make my own food, and that I'm so used to poverty it doesn't specifically bother me. I still get sad sometimes that I can't have an actual real job and live more safely, but I'm alive, I'm not tormented, and I spend a lot of time resting, and just tell people 'I'm sick' if they ask questions.

I think freelancing, doing a few hours of work infrequently or just slowly letting yourself recover until you can do something for a bit worked great for me, but I also understand it's not something that will work for anyone. If you're stuck not being able to save up, or work enough that you could pay even a part of your rent, that feels debilitating and scary, it doesn't let you plan for the future, it doesn't feel like you can even complain to people as they're unwilling to listen. I am so sorry for what you're going trough, it's legitimately a bad situation, and it's only natural for you to struggle like this after so much abuse. I believe you need to have as much rest as you need and if one day you get a little better, you might be able to figure it out, and if not, I hope at least people take you more seriously and understand that this is real pain, real fear of losing a future over abuse.

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 10/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 23, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

Notes at the end!

-----------------------------------------------

Lucifer should've known that even in his sleep, his torment would not stop.

He should have been wiser, but exhaustion dulled his senses, making him lower his guard.

He thought that maybe, maybe, the universe would give me just this little moment. And at the beginning he really thought that. He felt weightless. Like he's not the Morningstar, the fallen angel, the King of Hell, the Sin of Pride, a father or a lover. Like for the first time in a millennia, he simply existed.

So forgive him for his surprise when darkness swallowed his dreams before he could savor them fully.

Roo: Hello, fallen. Been a while, hasn't it?

Lucifer: Roo.

Roo: Don't look at me like that. Our deal is still in effect, you know. I can't do anything more than this even if I wanted to.

Lucifer: You saying you want to do more then? Like harm me?

Roo: Ugh, you silly creatures, always so pessimistic. Can't someone just chill and have fun?

Lucifer: I highly doubt the root of all evil and chaos embodiment just wants to 'chill'.

Roo: Believe what you will, fallen. I am many things, but I am no liar.

Lucifer: Your sister surely is.

Roo had to laugh at that. 

Roo: Yin in every Yang or so they say.

Lucifer: What? You're telling me you have good in you?

Roo: I would think the fact that you get to keep your soul was a sign in and of itself.

Lucifer: That's less than the bare minimum.

Roo smirked and rested her head on her hand, a gesture that grated Lucifer's nerves. He couldn't help but think he should take a page from Adam's book and wipe that shit-eating grin off her face.

Roo: Had the old man never told you to not look at a gifted horse's mouth? 

Lucifer: Enough. Why are you really here?

Roo: If you must know, I merely wanted to ask how you are doing! After all, meeting The Fates must have been quite the experience.

Lucifer: You were looking?

Roo: I wanted to see if my vessel works well. It's not my fault I can see everything you see, hear every thought you think, feel every pain you wish never happened but also desire to inflict onto yourself. I wanna ask, does your pity party ever stop?

Realistically, Lucifer knows that Roo is messing with him; she was deliberately provoking him, reveling in his inner turmoil. She's luring him in, and he's taking the bait.

There's a creeping cold that's getting worse the longer they talk. He thought nothing of it at first but he's now starting to feel it under his skin.

He's well aware of the threat in front of him but doesn't mean he's not going to bite back with force.

Lucifer: I think you're forgetting who delivered the final blow in the first war. You know, the blow that led to your defeat?

Roo's nonchalant and playful facade cracked just a bit that Lucifer knows he struck a nerve.

Lucifer: Hell, shouldn't you be more thankful to me? Without my actions in offering the fruit to humanity, you wouldn't have gained the power you so desperately craved to rise again. And now, here you are, benefiting from my influence once more.

The Sin of Pride couldn't fathom where this sudden surge of confidence came from, but he refused to cower any longer. Roo had expected him to tremble in fear, to bow before her as if she were someone superior to be revered on.

He's sick and tired of everyone assuming he should be the one on his knees, begging for mercy.

Lucifer: How are you the root of all evil when I'm the one who started sin. You should be worshipping me! Now that I think about it, in some twisted way, I was your creator-

His mockery was short lived when the dreamscape glitched and suddenly it wasn't Roo in front of him; it's The Root of All Evil.

Laughter erupted from the shadowy figure, a grotesque sound reminiscent of a rabid hyena's. Refusing to be intimidated, Lucifer continues to put oil in the fire.

Lucifer: Bringing out the big guns for a little comment? Insecure much?

He's bullshitting at this point but damn him if he's going down without an ounce of victory. He also thinks he's lucky to have said as much at all.

The abrupt stop of laughter sent an involuntary shiver down his spine, and then gravity seemed to solidify around him, pressing down with an oppressive force.

Push.

Michael: All you had to do was listen.

Push.

Lilith: You're exhausting, Lucifer.

Push.

Charlie: He's defending this hotel! How come he could have faith in me but my own father can't.

Push.

Y̵̛̞̝̳̥͍̏͛͊ö̴̼̭̜̖́͗̒͝ü̴̩͚͆͑ ̵͎̉̒̄̄ả̶̭͈͍̟̳ṙ̵̡̲͙̼͎è̸̮̳̲̊͂̔̍ ̴̠͔̯̘̬̑͝s̵̜̪̗̯̚è̴͇͌̇ṅ̷̘̝̀t̶̛̹̝̄͘ẻ̶͓̱̬͔̅̉ͅn̵̥̽̋̌̓ĉ̴͜e̶̯͇̤̺̤̅̀̅d̵̝̰̬̗̋ͅ ̶̝͕̩͇̱̎̋͝͝ẗ̶̢̊͠õ̶͒̈́̍̍��̡͖ ̸̧̏F̸̧̬̪̂̋a̸̞͈͍͇̔̓͘͜l̶̬͙̤͈̝̑̕l̵̼͂.̴̱̘̣̽̏̕͜

Lucifer screams. But instead of despair, he feels anger bubbling within him. What the hell is happening to him? He's been snapping more. Why did he snap at Michael? Why did he tell him that he can't wait for Heaven to be destroyed? He never wanted that. All he wanted was to give Eve free will. All he wanted was to love Lilith. All he wanted was for Charlie to be safe. All he wanted was for everything to STOP!

Roo: What's the matter, little devil? Never seen real evil before?

The cold is becoming unbearable now. The lake is frozen and all the greenery had been turned into crystals, consumed by the creeping frost that made them look like solid darkness.

Lucifer gritted his teeth, feeling the chill seeping into his bones, threatening to overwhelm him. He refused to give Roo the satisfaction of witnessing the King of Hell tremble; regardless if it's in fear or not.

Roo: Let me show you just how good of a person I can be. 

Then she's suddenly up on his face and brings a finger to his forehead.

Lucifer can feel Roo's corruption going further inside him and at the same time, a lot of somethings are coming out. It must be his remaining divinity because that's the only reason he can think of on why his Father's tether is screaming and clawing at him. 

He feels himself choke from everything happening all at once but he can't move. Roo has him locked in place and he never felt so helpless.

'Am I going to die here?'

No. Roo said that she won't be the one to deliver him to his demise. Nevertheless, he thinks that this is it.

Roo: Remember these words, fallen. A message from The Fates that you did not get to hear.

Charlie. He wants Charlie.

Roo: With the first soul's ascend, all began to unfold.

Tears begin to form in The King of Hell's eyes. Be it from the pain or fear, he doesn't know. 

Roo: It will end at a star's fall, as the threads have foretold.

Michael! Where is he?! He promised Samael he'll always protect him!

Roo: Trumpets will sing, as the sky recites a prayer.

'Father. Help me.'

Roo: An instrument of Heaven shall come down and be the devil's slayer.

He struggled to remain conscious; he fights to stay awake but he can't even move a finger but his efforts were in vain as he collapsed to the frozen ground, utterly drained. Through hazy vision, he can see Roo staring down at him with a gleeful smile.

Roo: See you soon, my fallen~

He wakes up to the smell of Marigolds.

-----------------------------------------------

In Nifty's voice: How was that?!!

You have no idea how long I spent making that rhyme prophecy thingy.

As always, your kind words and actions are greatly appreciated!

My DM's are always open for theories and introspections <3

[jumpywhumpywriter]

A Life in the Hands of the Enemy -- Villain reluctantly saves Hero's Life part 9

Warnings: violence, bleeding, near-death experience, captivity whump, cruel Villain whumper

He gestured to the syringe in his hand with a knowing smirk. "This is a strong sedative. Whether you'd like to proceed with the operation conscious or unconscious is entirely up to you. All you have to do is ask me for it." He gave it a second to sink in as Amber narrowed her eyes at him distrustfully, clearly thinking he was going to sedate her no matter what answer she gave, and that offering her a choice was only another form of torment. Wrong. Dead wrong. Another miscalculation on her part.

"Conscious it is," Zack said without batting an eye, and promptly rolled up her shirt to expose her midsection. Amber shivered as he wiped antiseptic across her skin, quickly realizing that he wasn't kidding. He'd do the procedure whether she was awake or not. It was only when he picked up a scalpel that it finally hit her.

"Wait... WAIT!" She shouted, straining against her restraints and eyeing the blade with a flicker of genuine fear.

"Yes?" He looked at her innocently, his voice dripping with hidden danger.

"Okay, fine... k-knock me out..." Amber stammered weakly, her voice dropping to a low whisper.

"What's the magic word?" He twirled the scalpel skillfully in his hand, flashing her a sly grin. He enjoyed the rush of power he got from these kind of games. Knowing he could get his victims to say whatever he wanted... holding their life on a thread...

Amber's face reddened with anger and humiliation.

"Speak now, or forever live with your answer," Zack pressed, and lightly touched her side with the flat side of the scalpel, making her squirm in fear.

"Please..." Amber finally hissed through gritted teeth, looking as though it physically pained her to force the word out of her mouth. She knew exactly what he was doing with his mind tricks, and hated giving him the satisfaction of winning. But her defiance wasn't worth the pain it would cost her, in this particular instance.

Zack smiled coldly, setting down the scalpel to pick the syringe up again. "See? That wasn't so hard. Good manners are basic common courtesy."

Amber scowled viciously at him with a glare that could wilt the petals off of roses as he rolled up her shirt sleeve. Her arm was stiff with coiled tension as he injected the sedative into her bloodstream.

"Don't worry, you're in good hands. I'll have these pieces of lead out of you in no time."

"Now why don't I believe you?" Amber sniped. "You're a cruel killer with a genius mind who likes to play mind games and tear your victims apart. Literally, not metaphorically. Your hands are anything BUT 'good'."

Zack shrugged with a laugh. "You're right, I can't deny my nature. But you're a special case. I need you alive and healthy to carry out my pet projects, so for once, your best interests are at the forefront of my genius mind. For my sake."

"You... sadistic... prick..." Amber mumbled, her voice slurring as her eyelids grew heavy. Another second and she was out like a light, tension leaving her features as she slipped into unconsciousness.

Zack shook his head to himself as he gathered the rest of the medical tools he would need to extract the bullets and shrapnel. Almost no one besides Amber knew that he had been an emergency surgeon in his past, one of the best of the best in the city, once dedicated to saving lives.

Until he decided to leave his career and become a villain, using his skills to hurt instead of heal. He'd sometimes perform live operations or dissections on people who had crossed or betrayed him without using anesthesia, sharpening his skills while getting satisfaction out of his enemies' suffering. Double win. Another bonus was that it set an example to anyone else who dared to think they could outsmart his genius mind. His intellect was one of his greatest tools.

Amber was lucky he had given her the option to be knocked out at all, considering how she'd acted up earlier. But Zack decided to have a little grace and not punish her quite yet, as she was still learning the rules of his hospitality. She still needed to learn to obey him better. He'd enjoy watching her fiery defiance fade into compliance. He knew all the ways to break down a person's defenses, bit by bit.

He'd been this villain for over two decades; he wasn't new to the game. Zack hummed to himself as he got to work, carefully cutting into Amber's side with practiced precision, his surgeon's steady hand serving him well.

Only a few minutes and he found the first bit of metal, a 9mm bullet lodged dangerously close to an artery. He carefully extracted it, dropping it into a collection container with a plink.

He alternated between operating and double checking his x-rays to make sure he was getting it all. After roughly an hour and a half had passed, he dropped the last piece of sharp shrapnel into the container with the rest, heaving a sigh. Amber really had it rough. She was covered in scars of all ages, both old and new. Just because she had accelerated healing, didn't mean injuries wouldn't leave a permanent mark.

���️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

[wordsvomit101]

I'm a random cringe teenager in school, we are not in Euphoria dude.

Author note: It is from Leviathan's pov because I do not want to come back to that dark time that closely, both of my arms shag to the ground when I thought back to it. Plus I need to write something else besides the quiz or else I might flip. Warnings: OOC, you might not relate to this MC, Leviathan being weird.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

(Lunch Break)

"Stop moping. I can't stand that idiotic sulking face of yours. Either get out of my sight or speak quickly," he snapped, hitting the right button as your mouth, busy chewing rice, halted to gulp it down before you began yammering nonstop.

"I don't know what I was doing back then, dude. I should just cooperate with them but I tried to act cool and know it all. Fuck! It was so bad and I sound like a total asshole! I might need to change the table," you lamented, as if not bothering to breathe.

You sit across him in the cafeteria, the space humming with the cacophony of annoying mortals and the frigid metallic scent of their food trays. The students' chatter is a relentless torrent, bouncing off the walls and reaching into every corner of the room. It's relentless, grating, and suffocating. It's the sound of a thousand conversations overlapping, each one clamoring for attention, each one more meaningless than the last. He tries to focus on the disgustingly low-quality food and your voice, to block out the noise, but it's impossible. The clatter of trays, the scrape of chairs, the mindless babble—it's all too much. He feels his fingers twitching, his palms itching to cover his ears and shut out the world, or maybe just slaughter all of them.

"The rest of the class was ok, I think, but I can see how they uncomfortably sit and not look back at me. Oh my god, I didn't just set off a series of bullying in my second year in high school, did I? Shit, I definitely did," you rambled on.

"Then how is it my problem?"

You look up at him with all the innocence those eyes could muster, yet hiding the aggravating angel-like rat behaviors. You give him another vein on the neck.

"You silly goose, you stuck with me for too long, and after all we've gone through, you have to share this with me. I stuck through your cringe emo phase when we were in middle school so this is the least you could do, you ungrateful brat," you chided him in a tone an older sibling would, and it only made him want to choke you from across the table.

It was maddening. Despite your apparent introversion, you never remained isolated for long. Even when you occupied a seat by yourself, you were always within the watchful gazes of at least three others. He had once witnessed you sitting alone in a classroom, but within five minutes, you had hastily gathered your belongings and hurried off to an extracurricular activity, your punctuality bordering on par with those from Niflheim, which is not appreciated in this situation.

Now he has to sit here and listen to your endless yapping again while surrounded by these stank mortals. Their pungent socks and unwashed body odors assaulted his delicate nostrils. Sharing your sensory experience became a curse as he lamented the existence of his sensitive nose. The stench from a table away was an unbearable torment, something that only that vixen Beelzebub and his cronies would enjoy.

"Ughh, I'm so fucked, you will be fine for sure but I don't know when my resting bitch face effect run out. Oh, can you eat this for me? Thanks, I don't have the will to try to eat them today."

"When did I say I-"

"Just eat them, will you? Plus my parents and I once bet on how tall you will be in the future. They both said you will be in the 6-foot range but I said 6'3 so grow faster for me," nonchalantly you quickly interrupted him with another story that your mind made up to patch up the holes his presence left.

You already put all the vegetables on his tray before he could say anything and get back to stuffing those cold things you called pork into your mouth again. Despite his genuine attempts to offer alternative snacks and better choices from nearby vendors, you remained steadfast in your refusal, compelling him to endure these demeaning moments alongside you. Annoyingly preaching something about saving money despite how you impulsively bought them both two bags of crab chips and bottles of banana milk the next day... If he threw it away you would be both sad and angry at him, possibly even not talking to him again for weeks unless he explains why so he, humiliatingly, chews those junks down his throat... It wasn't bad, at least.

But your smug looks ruin that moment and even dare to tease him about it despite your cheeks being stretched out by him like useless dough.

All the times he tried to initiate something with you, small or big, you outright gave him a funny disgusted look that was different from how those vile angels did but got on his nerves all the same. One time you even poked his eyes and screamed bloody murder, grinning childishly all the while, before he chased you around the school grounds, making a scene for the whole student body like some kind of circus. It's still a mystery how you manage to outrun him despite your less-than-stellar PE scores.

"What's with that grumpy look? You look like a monkey that just ate a hot chili—A good-looking one, of course, so chill your ass down, bro, that look could give a grandmother a heart attack."

... He had often contemplated the violent retribution he could inflict upon you—hanging you high by the neck or sending you tumbling down the unforgiving steps for each careless barb you hurled his way, only to watch you brush it off with a nonchalance that made it seem like nothing. In the reality of your usual demeanor, you would shy away from his gaze and hide your thoughts in your polite smile, an unspoken pact of avoidance. But now, you were a stranger to your former reserve, an uncharted territory in which your words flowed freely, unlike the distance you put around yourself toward everyone... It's grating as much as it is refreshing.

"I should cut your tongue off one of these days so you wouldn't spew nonsense all the time."

"Ah shush buddy, I would already be buried by now if you took your threat seriously. Also, what is our next class? Math? Shit, did we have homework in math? I can't remember, I only cramp on our literature work."

He learns something else about you that only makes him want to hurl you through the wall. Despite having all the time in the world, you whine and moan when it comes to your duties but you read through those meaningless comics and binge-watch countless romance dramas online, swooning over fictional humans whose appearances barely reach half his height almost every night. Instead of making good use of your time, you ignore the genuine thing right next to you. He should have twisted your nose off your face when you laughed at his face back then.

He ignored the flutter in his ribcage when he thought back to your smiling face, carefree and looking up at him with playfulness as you took joy in his frustration.

"Your stupidity never ceases to astound me. We have a test tomorrow, you bull-headed rat." Standing up, he took both of their trays to the table to be cleaned later. He didn't eat much besides the gross vegetables you put on his tray and waited for you to finish eating. As you two walked, you continued to talk incessantly, and he had to suffer through the noise.

"Aiya, stop with that snobby ass speech and help me study. At least I remember the formula, you know? An achievement for people like me who suck at it! You should be proud of your homie."

"I would be disappointed in myself if I ever am proud of the likes of you, you ange- rat."

Glancing down at you, your gazes ahead and not a bit bothered, it made him want to wipe it off your face and make you red with anger and embarrassment like that time… but you would never accept it, nor would your eyes give him the same reaction he was starting to get used to. Getting used to this mundane routine, the normalcy of this setting was so much different compared to schools in Hades. It was peaceful. It made him want to hold your hand…

"Hey."

Your serious tone of voice broke him out of his thoughts. When he glanced back, you were frowning, contemplating… You were realizing the differences again, this was the 35th time you did this. He admits he underestimated you when he first got into your memory zone. You almost blasted him with thunder magic the first time you uttered that human's name after he refused to join you to go to the anime convention for the 6th time. He envied how just by a mere utterance of that wretched name, you easily broke out of your trance.

Like last time, your eyes didn’t have that foggy glaze over them but were becoming brighter again.

"Have you ever talked like an old man like that?… And have you always had those horns before? Your voice sounds deeper too…"

But no matter, it was an easy fix, some rearranging, and good leading words would do. Before your gaze looked away from his and your smile went cold again, he quickly took out your favorite flavor lollipop from his pocket and unwrapped it easily between his hands, acknowledging how you were becoming more tense each second and your eyes almost fully cleared even without looking at you.

"Are you-"

"Hmph, you must have a lot of time to even question things like this."

Gently shoving the lollipop into your mouth and taking in your shocked face, his heart was unconsciously at ease when you calmed down after tasting the familiar treat between you and that human. You gazed up at him with a goofy smile, humming a tune as you continued walking to class together, the tension between you dissipating like mist in the morning sun.

"Did you buy it from the vendor? I thought they were out of this flavor today- Ah wait, I need to finish this quick. How much time do we have left until class starts?"

As you two entered, he swiftly slipped into his seat, cutting you off. The class was strewn with a sparse gathering of students, as per the norm… Tch.

"Not a single ‘thank you’, it seems you’re the ungrateful one. I should let you rot once that test comes around."

"Hah?! H-hey I get it alright?… I’m sorry ok? Sorry for taking you for granted."

As you settled into the seat before him, a sense of remorse washed over you, reflected in the apologetic gaze you cast upon him. It was as if your eyes carried the weight of a thousand regrets, and he could almost visualize your invisible ears drooping in a display of pitiful sorrow. With a hesitant glance upwards, you met his gaze, mirroring the submissive demeanor of some of his summoned creatures, evoking a sense of empathy tinged with a hint of melancholy.

… Funny, that was how you looked at him when you brought that whip on his back. Not like this, it was not one where he could sense the disgust you had for yourself as you held back from apologizing. That might be one of the last times you were ever expressive toward him.

"I’m sorry… and thank you for buying this for me, and for the many other times you did."

Your voice was softer now, almost like a whisper, yet honest all the same as your eyes never strayed from his. However, he preferred that impish grin you usually directed at him than this.

"Heh, like I need your worthless apology. Finish it quickly, the teacher is coming."

In a swift and unspoken gesture, you couldn't help but emit a soft snort and playfully nudge his arm, a silent indication of your camaraderie. With a subtle yet meaningful exchange, you effortlessly returned to your designated spot, sinking into your seat as you savored the sweet crunch of your lollipop. In that fleeting moment, the weight of somberness that loomed above both of you dissipated into the ether, replaced by an unspoken understanding and a false sense of lightness.

"Geez, way to ruin a nice apology, you jerk."

"…"

The veneer of normalcy would inevitably crack, the charade becoming an unsustainable burden. As the school bell pierced the air, summoning students into the classroom and the teacher embarked on the lesson, his gaze fell upon your slouched posture, a telltale sign of your mind already drifting off to daydreaming. When the final bell tolled, signaling the end of class, he alone would carry the weight of these fleeting moments and a poignant reminder of the unspoken connection that had flickered between you.

'… For now, let me savor this a little bit longer.'

[icedragonlizard]

Headcanon: Heroes in Another Dimension reopened old wounds for two people

Kirby and the star alliance went through two adventures. The first one was in the main story where the group went out to stop the Jambastion cult. The second adventure then took place in Heroes in Another Dimension, where the group then went to Another Dimension to save Hyness and the mage sisters from the brink of demise.

There's something worth talking about, though. That the second adventure takes place in Another Dimension. Allow me to talk about my headcanons for how two dream friends handled this adventure:

Magolor and Susie have both been stranded in Another Dimension before, with Magolor having been stuck there for about five months while Susie was stuck there for like more than a damn decade. They both absolutely hated it. Neither of them wanted anything to do with that wretched place ever again after they left in their respective instances. And then... they've had to GO BACK to Another Dimension again during HiAD with Kirby and all the other dream friends!

After the first Star Allies adventure of defeating Void Termina, Kirby then reassembled the group to go to Another Dimension. Magolor and Susie were very hesitant to stay in the group, for obvious reasons.

They've both told Kirby about their Another Dimension experiences in the past before HiAD. It took Kirby a few seconds to remember this when he noticed them both being hesitant to join in on the adventure for HiAD... and he came to understand why. But nevertheless, he insisted they still join with the rest of the group, as he then promised that they won't be there alone this time nor will they have to be there for too long. That, and Taranza would've been sad if they didn't join.

And so Magolor and Susie stayed in the star alliance on the adventure for HiAD, despite their traumatic experiences with Another Dimension. They were not excited for it, though. They were scared that old wounds were going to reopen and it'll really torment their minds.

When HiAD's events went on... oh boy... the feeling of old wounds reopening for both Susie and Magolor was much worse than they anticipated! They had horrific flashbacks of the times they were previously stuck in this hellscape. It got so bad that they struggled to prevent themselves from going frantic at times. Taranza was right alongside them in this adventure, and it made him horrified to see how traumatized these two looked to be going through this place. He had to keep assuring that they'll be okay and they'll get through this.

Taranza, of course, was never stuck in Another Dimension beforehand like Magolor and Susie were. HiAD was his very first time of being in that place, and while they both did tell him about their experiences with this place before... it really hit different when he got to see the place himself and watching these two be so frightened and afraid over it. It was one thing to be told about it, it's on another level for him to actually start knowing what it was like for these two to have been stuck here. It has made him feel all the more heartbroken for them, especially Susie who was stuck here for so much longer.

Taranza had given hugs to both of his fellow wave 3ers during this harrowing adventure, reminding them they're not alone this time, and that he and the others would make sure that they don't get hurt here.

It got really bad when all the other dream friends started noticing Magolor and Susie looking so distraught during HiAD. It got to the point that the group asked them why they were so frightened and upset. The two of them didn't want to say why, but the group insisted out of concern... and eventually, the two reluctantly opened up why.

The thing is that Magolor and Susie have both been repressive about their trauma before this point. Mostly, I mean. They've told a few of their closest friends, but the star alliance at large did not know about their baggage regarding their experiences with Another Dimension.

Magolor only disclosed his Another Dimension experiences with Marx, Taranza and Susie before HiAD, and begged them to not tell anyone with them listening. He's been secretly embarrassed with how much he fell from grace when he was sent to that twisted dimension and didn't want to let it be known to a lot of people. While he of course made his apology when returning to Dream Land (haha, pun!), he didn't explain to most about what actually happened to him before he returned. He wanted to move on from those debilitating horrors.

Before HiAD, anything about Susie's backstory (Another Dimension, her daddy issues, you name it) was literally only known to Kirby, Magolor and Taranza. They were the only ones that she was comfortable enough to open up to, and she pleaded them to keep it all a secret. She's never said a thing about her backstory to anyone else.

For comparison, Taranza is much more open about his trauma, and the entire star alliance knew about his deal with Sectonia before HiAD. But until HiAD, nobody except for Kirby and the other wave 3ers knew anything about Susie's grief because she didn't tell them. She didn't even tell anyone aside from those three that Max Haltmann was her dad to begin with. She's largely kept all her personal business to herself, and has been trying to maintain a 'smart kickass coolgirl' persona and tried hard to not look sad or traumatized to most people.

When Susie was backed in a corner to make a confession during HiAD, she deliberately left out details. She only said "Yeah, I was stuck here before. I was separated from my dad, and I came back to him, but he's dead now. But I'm okay guys, because I've been trying to overcome the grief, and that's why I didn't talk about it to you all before!" and didn't elaborate further. The reality is that she's been struggling more to heal than she wanted most of the dream friends to believe. She just didn't want them all to treat her like some sort of charity case because she considered that to be degrading. She wants to be seen as a coolgirl, m'kay? Magolor also wanted to be seen as cool. Neither of them wanted to be seen as traumatized trainwrecks, but unfortunately their frantic behavior in HiAD just blew their cover.

Taranza decided to help bail out both Susie and Magolor. He told the rest of the star allies that they've been working really hard to recover from their trauma, and told the group to please don't mention those two's trauma anywhere around them because it'd make them both uncomfortable. They were already feeling uncomfortable when they were backed in a corner to explain why they were scared during HiAD!

The group agreed to it, but they were flabbergasted by the revelations nevertheless, especially what Susie disclosed. They had no idea that Susie had gone through something like that. She's usually acted either very cutesy or very logical/formal around them before this. Magolor had acted very silly and cool around the group before the confession. The group thought it was weird to be repressing their trauma like that, but they adhered to the requests of not bothering them about it. The two then thanked Taranza for that!

Also, to be fair, Marx was singlehandedly an additional reason why Susie tried to hide her daddy issues to most. This is because she's watched Marx tell Sectonia jokes to upset Taranza. Unfortunately, after HiAD, Marx then told jokes about Susie's dad that caused her to snap. She already hated Marx beforehand because he was doing really aggravating things such as licking her ice cream and tampering with her robotics!

Susie and Magolor were so relieved when the events of HiAD were finally over. They were really agonized during the adventure. They were the quickest to go home as soon as they were allowed to... with Susie resting for a while before going back to work in order to recover from the overwhelming stress she underwent. Magolor went to go sleep excessively inside the Lor Starcutter when he got back home. Phew!!

Kirby felt bad for having made them go. He actually went to each of their homes and told them that he was sorry. It's okay though... they weren't mad at him. He's still their buddy! HiAD just sucked for them.

That's about all I got for this post. Thank you if you read it! I had this idea for a while, considering both Magolor and Susie have been stuck in Another Dimension, and man there's no way they could've looked forward to having to go back to that place AGAIN during HiAD.

Also, it sucks that Magolor and Susie never met during their times in Another Dimension. It could've helped out so much. If they met, then they would've actually had someone in the lowest point of their lives. But instead, they were both completely alone in that hellscape. :(

See you for the next one, guys.

[nightwonder7]

ur ghost AU got me thinkinh..... hehehe so much angst potential

It does it absolutely does!

The ghosts not remembering parts of their lives and all the trauma they experienced, but then Alice recovers some old records and their memories come flooding back. Some experience guilt, some regrets, some despair, some rage, some pain and others a mix of multiple. They have to come to terms with it all again, and it becomes seemingly impossible to get through to them in their tormented states. The ghosts also become more powerful with their elevated emotions, making them capable of causing actual harm. Alice and the other ghosts have to work together to calm the spirits down by finding some kind of anchor point for them; something that brings them back down to earth again. It could be anything from reassuring words, memories or objects. Remembering their past and coming to terms with it proves to be a key point in freeing them from the manor. Despite the pain, it is necessary. Other things the ghosts need to face are how they died. Their deaths have much in common with each other, and solving what actually happened here would be another key point in their unbinding. Of course, facing how they died and all the unfinished businesses they left behind would be as difficult as facing their past forgotten traumas.

I can imagine Alice would feel a little horrified upon learning more about the people who died in the manor. One thing would be to discover the grizzly past of the manor and the games. But then also discovering she is basically living in a house full of the ghosts of horrible people and murderers. I can see her being scared at first and is close to breaking their deal; one step away from leaving the estate and never coming back. But then the ghosts manage to convince her to give them a chance. She is the only one who can help them now. She is not obligated to, but she wants to help them despite all the bad things they had done in their lives. Every soul should be put to rest. There are more sides to a story, and as she digs more into the records and thinks them through, she understands more about the ghosts and why they did what they did. Perhaps even feeling sympathy towards them most of them anyway.

I don't have anything concrete for this, but I can see some of the ghosts witnessing Alice's own pains and struggles of her life and feeling bad for her. They would prod her about it, and she would continue to deny or brush it off. It could be some kind of hurt/comfort scenario where everything comes to a head and she finally opens up to the ghosts she has gotten close to. She is all alone in this world and hasn't had anyone to talk to for so long. It feels good to finally let it all out and have someone listen to her, even if they are dead.

Alice successfully frees the ghosts, but when it is time for them to go, she can't help but feel melancholic. She had gotten close with the ghosts, and while she is happy they can finally get their rest, it would also mean she will lose her friends. She would be alone once again, and she would miss them so much. But she cannot keep them here. They have already been here for too long. The ghosts would be eternally grateful for what Alice had done for them, but more so they would also feel sad about leaving, for they would also be parting with a friend. The only reassuring thought is that they will all meet again some day... Until then, Alice should live out her life at the fullest, for that opportunity got robbed from them long ago.

[brainyrot]

Hey. I like the way you write.

LMAOJDIS

Chaos everywhere, wood flying and breaking, bullets made of who knows what, ink and death.

it felt like a war was playing in front of him, which he couldn't tell if it was entertaining or scary, not scary because the scene was too much for him, but scary because he was in the middle of it.

he wanted to make a run for it, but didn't make it. Didn't work. Too many things happening right now.

Ink falling down from his forehead, stress.

He just needs to wait until things calm down a bit, or too many people die until it's enough and the massacre stops.

he's almost glad he's in the middle of this and witnessing it, as he can learn new things from the new guests and adapt.

the two dishes have a long reach weapon, yes, fingers but they shoot bullets and a variety of it.

Could break their hands all together.

The cat is mostly relying on the bag and physical fight, the bag gives him everything apparently. Tricky and just needs to see if that bag can even be damaged.

the girl uses some kind of spells. She is fragile so she hopes those small and quick spells she can do without messing up are enough,

Meaning she is the easiest one.

on the other hand we have what used to be people dragging themselves around, hungry. Mad. In both senses.

And he's still stuck like this.

But after what felt like an eternity the fire stops, the screams and moans of pain stop, the ink slowly melting and dripping from whatever surface it's on.

blood is mixed with ink, minor injuries, maybe some are more severe.

The guests are covered in ink, some were close to be consumed by it completely.

They work the same as the rest. They are all victims of the same rules. they are just smarter and sane enough to actually try and survive instead of throwing yourself into some suicidal mission and wait to come back, again, and die, again, and come back, over and over, losing yourself the more it happens.

Sammy on the floor, obviously alive, just not able to fight anymore. that guy is hard to beat, he can tell you by experience. Some firey bullets won't do much.

Hopefully won't start a fire, they already have enough problems as it is.

a cough, multiple coughs. A whole coughing fit that sounded like someone just got out from the dark puddles, they all do it anyway, they all need to breathe still apparently.

Or it just sounds like someone whose lungs are merely an accessory instead of functional now.

the second one fits better.

"You okay, bro?" the one with the scarf as long as Alice angel's hair, even more, asks. Placing a hand behind the other's back and rubbing it.

"I-im good. I'm good." and a few curses.

What a nitwit. you're not fine. Why does he keep lying about that? Does he think he's cool or a hero if he does that?

What a joke.

"Where's bendy?" here, but he doesn't wanna be.

"Under a table, he's fine.." taking a few breaths in, glancing at the demon..kind of suspiciously but it was just a glance, the feeling went away almost immediately.

"Who even were they?" She asked. Tired. She didn't even move, why is she tired? All the work was from the rest of the group and her silly spells.

"I don't know, tree princess. Some weirdos."

"covered in ink.."

"Some didn't even look like a person though! They.. it's like they were made of ink!" they say the truth, yet they keep denying it once they say the rest of the words.

"Yeah. this place is dangerous. We need to go." a joy in this torment of a studio?

"But boris-"

"SCREW BORIS! We can't even save him anymore! He's cussing dead! I saw him cut open earlier! There's no one else to save! There's nothing to save him! So let's just get bendy out from under the table and go!" the tallest cup shouted. Ouch. and he snapped as well.

Amusing at best, but honestly, he doesn't care.

"..what?"

"Bori- you...you knew? You knew?! You knew Boris was here- and- and you didn't say anything until now?! You- y- Boris is dead and- and-"

"I couldn't do anything about it! he was already like this when I found him!"

"IT DOESN'T MATTER! Boris is-you could've-! I-" Tears and a mix of emotions that can't be fully described.

Tears from a girl, ugly crying without any shame. She doesn't have time for that, as she's busy crying over a stranger with the face of someone she knew.

silence, grieving silence.

"...bendy, look. I-..I wanted to tell you, but-" finally, the one who broke this news to everyone spoke, voice so soft and empathetic it was weird seeing him talk like that.

but he wasn't talking to no one anyway, there was no one there.

"...bendy?"

[xmissrogersx]

The Way I Loved You | Joel Miller

my writing is entirely my own. Any adaptation and/or copy is forbidden.

i hope you are enjoying my stories! U help me a lot if you give me a ♡! All the love.

priscila masterlist

-So that's what teenage girls did, they only cared about how pretty they looked to like the boys. That's rubbish —Ellie exclaimed in the back seat.-Please tell me you weren't like that, Payton.

-Ellie, I was only 6 years old when the pandemic started —I replied with a rarched eyebrow.

-I don't know, all my life my home was FEDRA. I don't know how normal children acted.

I layed under my breath to turn to my left and see Joel focused on the road. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

Over the past few years I met guys who only caused me repulsion and disappointments. Not because the end of the world had arrived meant that the stupidity of the male gender ceased to exist.

Parties, drugs and easy sex were the menu of the night. I always thought that maybe there would be a flaw in me. A year ago, at Boston QZ, I met a young man named Tim.

Cataloging him as a prince in shining armor would be too old, but I think my mother would call him that way to define him.

We went out for 6 months. We worked in the same area, went for a walk and talked about our tastes.

The time we spent together was pleasant. We enjoyed our afternoon walks, and arrived in time to listen to the distribution of tasks to the population.

He smiled together with his blue eyes, to which I corresponded. Or that's what he wanted me to believe. ¿Why couldn't I love him and look at him the same way he did? ¿Could it be that the love I want to give to Tim I can't experience it?

I sighed frustrated and looked up to my right, to suddenly run out of breath.

There he was again. Tall, brown hair that together with gray nuances, slightly tanned skin due to outdoor work. His look hard and with marks on the side of his brown orbs. Losing myself in them was the longing I had every night when I went to sleep.

He looked like a fucking god with his big arms crossed over his chest.

His face most of the time was rough to push people away, wanting to show that he was not the kind of person to mess with. Joel was not easy to intimidate. But I knew that deep down there was only one wounded man with a past that torments him to this day.

-Hey, are you okay? —I took his voice out of my memory, bringing me back to the present.

-Yes...of course -I vocalized as best I could. He nodded not very convinced. My totally red face must have already been betraying me.

We continued the trip without further talk until it began to get dark. Joel went into the forest so we could rest until the next morning.

I arranged some sleeping bags that we had gotten from Bill's house. Ellie approached shitering a little due to the cold that was beginning to feel in the place. I picked up a blanket and put it on his shoulders.

-Thank you, shit, I feel like I'm going to freeze.

-¿Why don't you try to get some sleep? —I pointed to the improvised bed. She nodded and lay down.

-I can take the first guard —Joel exclaimed, to which I sighed.

-You drove all the way, you have to rest. I can watch about 5 hours at least.

-You have to sleep too —he approached me slightly, to which I held my breath again.

-Joel, please, I can be perfectly awake. Now lie down and get some sleep —I finished to get away from him. He decided to take my advice and lay down next to the chestnut.

I decided to walk away for a moment towards the lake that was meters from us.

I took a seat on a small log and began to write in my little notebook. A small form of escape that made me get out of the reality in which we found ourselves.

-Are you writing again?

-Fuck, you scared me —I turned to the direction of his voice.-¿And wouldn't you have to be sleeping?

He didn't answer my question.

-¿Didn't he get angry? -he suddenly exclaimed, to which I frowned.-The guy who was with you.

-Tim? Why would he be angry with me?

-You decide to go and cross the country to take a girl with me...-he didn't finish the sentence.

-Joel, I felt I had to do it, the decisions I made with my life are only mine.

-I doubt your boyfriend thinks the same.

-He's not my boyfriend. I couldn't reciprocate. I just didn't want it that way.

-I thought it was, because of the way I looked at you.

I advanced towards him, somewhat afraid that he would retreat, but she remained static.

-I could never see him that way, not Tim... I... I'm sure of what you're going to tell me if I let the words come out.

Take a breath of air, and look towards the floor.

-I couldn't see it that way... God, he's not you.

And in the blink of an eye, he cradle my cheeks and put our lips together, silencing myself.

-So perfect for this destroyed world, just like me.

-Don't say that —I spread small kisses on his chin, forehead and cheekbones.-You're a great man, Joel.-No one imagined everything that was going to happen. But here we are, we survive day by day, together.

-25 years of difference between us. You're young, you must look for someone...

-Don't come to me with that stupidity, Miller. I don't care. Whatever people say or think, they just talk more about them. At least... you don't...?

-Shit, Payton. I love you from the moment I saw you in the task distribution row. But I'm complicated, sometimes I don't know how to express myself...

I just nodded with a small smile while he spoke, to which he noticed and frowned.

-I know, but I love you that way. My sexy grumpy old man. I'm not perfect either.

-You are the kindest and sweetest person I know, darlin’ -I smiled at the nickname.-I want to wake up next to you and see your beautiful face. I long for you to be mine.

-I already am, Joel —I exclaimed, clinging to him.-I just want to be with you and Ellie. And I know you want it too.

[autistichalsin]

A penny for your thoughts on how Halsin’s drow captivity went down?

Oh, man.

The short version is much worse than Halsin pretends, that's for sure. There's just too many implications... "I feared for my life, and wanted my freedom back" gives the truth away. Namely: whatever sexual things happened there, even if Halsin claims they weren't so bad and he "enjoyed" them, were without consent. By definition, a prisoner can't consent to sex- there is a reason many countries consider ALL sex between prisoner and guard to be sexual abuse/rape. Because the power dynamics are simply never going to allow meaningful consent to be given from the prisoner. And that assumes Halsin even did give what he thinks was consent. (He probably thinks he consented to some of the acts, and the others were just "the Drow matriarch being a Drow matriarch.") And then there's the way he notes he saw the "pelts" of other surface elves like himself decorating the house he was in.

I don't think Halsin has, in any way, processed that he was raped, for a few reasons. One is his size. He notes that many don't think he could ever be hurt because of his size, and sometimes he seems to have internalized it. Another is his gender. Far too many think it's not really rape if a woman does it to a man. Another is his physiological response. Sadly, it is far from rare for victims of rape to experience arousal or orgasms during their assaults, which is both humiliating and isolating, and can lead to a victim mistakenly believing they were complicit in their own assaults- and thus that they can't be "real" assaults because they "wanted" it. This would only be made worse by Halsin's attitude towards sex, because sadly, many believe that someone who enjoys sex freely with many partners doesn't have the right/ability to revoke consent.

So- in terms of that part of his captivity, the cards are just firmly stacked against Halsin being able to process what happened to him. He can understand that there was a threat to his life, that he was terrified and imprisoned, but not that his sexual agency was taken away from him. Even after all this time, he can't use the word "rape".

As for the rest of it? Drow are sadistic, especially to surface elves, and you can bet that forced 'gratitude' was part of it- and, IMO, there was at least a small amount of Stockholm Syndrome judging from the way Halsin talks about the matriarch and patriarch. And especially given that Halsin is male, he was probably frequently threatened with death and worse. The instant the matriarch grew bored with him, he would be killed- and that, IMO, is where Halsin "doing what he needed to survive, and some things that were less than necessary" came from. He had to keep himself interesting to her, and given how others react to his appearance, he probably knew sex was the best 'asset' he had to keep himself unique and worth keeping around. And if he did experience arousal/climax... well, see above. He tells himself that's a sign he was a consenting party, not a prisoner doing anything he could to avoid dying. He doesn't see his own duress as a factor negating his consent here.

As for the parts of it besides rape and imprisonment... yeah. He probably was hurt, a lot. Again. Sadistic Drow. And there was probably a lot of psychological torment as well.

Like... he was there for THREE YEARS and no one from the surface came to rescue him? The Drow absolutely would have used that to try and fuck with his head, telling him that he was unwanted and unloved. (Maybe he believed it, maybe not, but as the years went by he had to start wondering.)

And I don't think words can describe how traumatic it would have been for Halsin to see the bodies of other surface elves used as decorations. The gruesomeness of it, the awareness that he would probably be next... yeah. That would definitely haunt him for a while.

All of this compounded by the fact that he was young. He calls himself a foolhardy young Druid, intent on seeing the world. He was probably either just an adult by elf standards, or maybe not even a full adult yet.

It's actually kind of strange that, specifically, the writers made Halsin a sex slave of the Drow- because aside from not dealing with his rape on any level, they only barely hinted at what he would actually be dealing with (the hints to other elves being made into decorations for him to see) and then backed away from the full implications. Surface elves were almost never kept as slaves by the Drow, they were usually either killed on sight or kept for a special date to be an offering, and in the meantime tortured to the point of WISHING they'd been killed on sight instead.

Even if Halsin got the one in a million Drow nobles who didn't hate surface elves THAT much, there still would have been a lot of torture and manipulation. Drow torture and maim their slaves for any perceived slight, or even just for fun. And even if Halsin's captors didn't do THAT either, and even if one could accept him deciding it was actually nbd after 250-ish years, it should still affect him somehow, but it doesn't seem to. Which just shows again how poorly thought out that entire scene was.

They said something with absolutely horrific implications- not just repeated sexual assault, but all but certain torture- and then backed away from showing the full consequences, which is just disappointing, IMO. Even if they wanted Halsin "healed" (and no, I don't believe that, because nothing about Halsin's writing says "healed" as much as it does "someone who has been in crisis mode for so much of their life that effective healing is impossible, what we are seeing is him burying his traumas to survive") they should have said how it USED to hurt him... but they didn't do that either.

[deggies]

[[[SPOILERS FOR SLAY THE PRINCESS]]]

Slay the Princess caught my eye after seeing a thumbnail of the game from a vtuber, and ever since I was considering playing it. Even during the steam Christmas sale I was deciding whether or not I should get it. I didn't end up getting it on sale (bought it the day the sale ended) and honestly I don't even feel bad about it. Going into the game I only knew that 1) it has elements of horror and 2) the game gaslights you. So knowing that the game was trying to trick me and emotionally manipulate me, I went in with the mindset of what would I do if I was put into that situation and— I slayed the princess. But not without her taking me out with her.

So began a Lovecraftian timeloop nightmare that ended in me getting horribly killed over and over again until I was met with a being that took the Princess's heart (literal) and claimed it needed other versions of her to become complete. So now learning what the game is about now - getting different 'endings' to feed the being life experiences - I decided, hey what the hell, let's try being nice and even try romance her, if given the option. I was still suspicious of her kind demeanor in this run, still heeding to the narrator's warnings that it was all a manipulation, but she was... pleasant. Still a little deranged, but overall a more pleasant person. And it made me realise how I wanted to get the rest of the princess endings. I didn't wan't to kill her as much as I was able to.

In the rest of my run, I did just that, only killing when I didn't have a choice and learning more about her I began to think to myself that maybe she really is misunderstood. Maybe, in a meta-sense, she was forced into the role of a villain by the creators, since although she does 'end the world' in endings where you are kind to her, it seems that the world simply ceases to exist as opposed to endings where you were a heartless killer she explicitly states she tormented the world.

So then finally, when it was revealed that the player was created to become a god to end death (the princess) and I was given a chance to talk to the now completed entity, whose goal was to bring suffering upon the world, I was given two choices: slay the princess for good and fulfill the role I was given or join her in an endless cycle to create and destroy worlds. I, was not happy with either of these choices.

Fortunately, the game has another option. You are given one last chance to speak with the princess again. Just, the regular ol' princess chained in the basement of a cabin, though she now knows everything you do. And there, you are able to free her and end the cycle of death and destruction and enter a world of uncertainty. A world where a higher being no longer dictates their every action.

I did not do the themes and emotions of this game justice, but this is more as an entry for me to remember how much I love this game. I'm not the type to replay games, so I'm really happy I was able to get an ending that I enjoyed and connected to a lot.

Play this game if you ever get the chance, it's good fun and really touching (at least, the ending I got was).

Also, here's the playlist I got at the end.

[be-with-me-so-happily]

Chapter 8

Series Summary: There are moments in our lives that have a major impact. The interactions, the adventures, and the love, all make up who we are. But when Harry can't remember those moments with YN, they are both left wondering what that means for themselves and their relationship.

Chapter Summary: This is (again) from Harry's point of view. Now that he remembers it all, how does he handle the reality that he may have lost everything?

Thanks for sticking around even though I broke most of your hearts with the last chapter.

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Chapter Warnings: Some explicit language (of course), mention of mild depression, mention of brain injury, jealousy, scheming, lots of songs, and angst

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"No one will know!" Harry chuckles, a giant smirk unapologetically stretching across his face, caving his dimples deep into his cheeks.

"I will know!" YN exclaims, raising her palms up to rest across her reddening cheeks.

"That's fine with me…" He replies. "It is about you after all."

She lets out a giggle, biting her lip as she coyly looks into his eyes with the ones he can always get lost in.

"So which one is it?"

"What?"

"Do I taste like strawberries? Or watermelon?"

Harry walks up to YN, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her closer, instantly feeling her warmth.

"Sweet." He shrugs, unable to fully put into words what he experiences during that specific, intimate moment. "You just taste sweet."

She wraps her arms around his neck, her gaze putting him in a trance, as she looks down at his lips.

"How many other songs have you written about me?"

His cheek color begins to match hers, and his gaze drops down to her own pink lips. He is definitely gone for her.

"All of them." He responds, watching as her eyes light up, like she could guide his way through the dark. "All of my new songs are about you."

Sometimes memories are the worst form of torture. Harry thought all the torment had reached its peak before this, but he is completely broken now. YN is happy. He had wanted that for her. He had just hoped it would be with him. Now more than ever, he wishes she was happy with him.

His entire week since that night at the bar has been filled with crying, sleeping, and writing. He now has page after page of songs about her. So many songs. Maybe too many songs, but he can't help it. He really is pouring his heart out at this point, what little bit he has left.

Baby, you are the love of my life

Maybe, you don't know it's lost til you find it

It's not what I want, to leave you behind

Don't know where you'll land when you fly

But, baby, you are the love of my life

There is a subtle knock on the bedroom door, which Harry almost misses. Or more truthfully, he wants to ignore. He has become comfortable drowning in his sadness, letting it take him under. He tries to convince himself it has to do with the creative process of getting his feelings down with ink on paper. That's not totally true. He believes this is his penance, his punishment for being an idiot. But mostly, he has come to believe that the pain from all of this is the only thing he has left of YN. So, the knock at the door and the expectation to open it is unwelcome, with the potential to disrupt everything he's feeling at this moment. However, it slowly opens nonetheless and he looks over to see Gemma walking in with a sympathetic expression plastered all over her face.

"Hey." She mutters, walking towards his bed. Her eyes suddenly shoot over to his nightstand, finding a view of the engagement ring that Harry can't seem to put away. If he is going to be tortured, he might as well encompass himself in it fully.

"Mum… told me what's happened." She mutters again, sitting down next to him on the bed, just like she used to during their childhood, when he was hurting in some way. Her sight then switches over to the journals laying next to him, picking up the open one closest to her and flipping through the recently inked pages. "Shit, Harry."

"Pathetic, right?" He responds, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. "In my twenties, wallowing in depression, and writing songs about all my heartache."

"No. It's not pathetic. It's anything but pathetic, actually. It's what you do. It's cathartic. You were in lov-"

"I am still in love." He interrupts, correcting her terminology so she understands how he still truly feels. The love came back. More accurately, it never actually went away. It just hid itself in the depths of his mind and frustratingly didn't reveal itself until the most inopportune moment. A moment too late.

"Right." She nods, dropping her gaze to the floor as she sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault, Gem. It's all mine." His gaze drops down, mimicking hers, also followed by his own disappointed exhale. He might never get rid of that knowledge. The guilt. He did this to YN, and inadvertently to himself. He almost wishes for another brain injury, so he can also forget all the pain he is experiencing now. But of course, if it means forgetting YN, he'd never want it. As much as he hurts, she's everything to him. And as torturing as the memories are, he doesn't want a life that is completely void of her.

"Mum says you've been cooped up here all week…" She states, bringing Harry out of yet another spiral of damning thoughts. "Let's go get some coffee or something."

"Umm…"

"C'mon, Harry. You need to get outta the house." She states, causing him to respond with a nod. As much as he wants to bunker down and hide away from the world, he knows it's not good for his mental health. It's barely hanging on by a thread as it is. He could clear his head. Even if it's for a moment. Those seem to be all he gets these days.

"Alright." He relents, taking the journal from his sister's hands and tossing it onto the bed, knowing full well that he will open it again as soon as he returns. "But… where…?"

•••

Harry follows his sister after parking her car on the side of the building, passing the market store, and stopping at the front of the Beachwood Cafe.

He's been here a few times, mainly before he met YN, and brought her a time or two as well. But they both had to agree, Way Cup was much better, and the sentiment it had for the two of them made it that much more special. Not to say they didn't visit other cafes if needed, but Way Cup was their place. Always their place.

"Oh man!" Gemma states, causing Harry to look up and fix his eyes on the piece of paper taped to the front door. "They're out of coffee."

All he can do is laugh. He won't wallow about this, and throw a pity party about how everything in his life seems to be going that way, but at this point he just isn't surprised, because it does feel true.

"What do you wanna do?" She asks, turning towards him with a look shows she is concerned he could crumble it at any moment. He feels sad that she feels like that. She shouldn't. But he supposes it isn't outrageous that she does, considering his current state.

"We can just go back home. Or…" He pauses, unsure how he feels about the suggestion he has just initiated. Does he want to say it? Or even do it? "We could go to Way Cup…"

Gemma's eyes widen subtly, but Harry picks up on her surprised reaction. He responds with a simple shrug.

"It's better coffee." He adds, certain of the truth behind that statement, but not entirely of the reason he wants to visit that particular cafe. He's beginning to think he just wants to put himself through hell. Maybe because he feels as if he deserves it. Or maybe because YN might feel that way. Or maybe, just maybe, because he could bump into her there, and they could start their fairytale all over again. Why he even has the tiniest bit of hope for that scenario, he has no idea. But he's holding onto it. However small.

•••

Just like the drive to the bar, the drive to Way Cup is just as nerve-wracking. He can't even begin to gather any words to give her, and he knows YN's probably run out of things to say. Besides, he is almost positive he will not be seeing YN this time. He takes a deep breath as he opens the door for his sister, and unintentionally does a scan of the room. His heart still wants to look for her. To find her. Even if it's pointless.

The person he finds is not YN, however, but Adhira instead. And she isn't alone. Standing next to her is the man who had YN's attention that night at BarCode. The man who gave her a hug, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and made her smile. Smile, and laugh. It's the man who made YN happy, in whatever capacity it is. He just doesn't want to know that detail.

Adhira spins around as she receives her order, clearly intending to head out the front door that Harry now stands in front of.

"Harry!" She exclaims, a bit of shock flashing across her face as her gaze flickers over to the man beside her. "Hey."

He clears the lump in his throat as he notices her do the same, and his eyes land upon the stranger. The one he wishes wasn't here but also the one he oddly wishes that he was.

"Hey, man! I'm Raj!" The man extends his hand towards Harry, who has the instant desire to reject it. But this man has done nothing wrong. Taken the attention of the woman he loves? Yes. But that's not Raj's fault. Everyone is captivated by her anyway. His selfish ex demanded the attention of everyone around her, but YN can simply draw people in naturally, and clearly this man is no exception.

"Hi, mate. I'm Harry." He responds, extending his own hand to meet for the uncomfortable exchange of pleasantries, at least on Harry's end. Yet something takes over him. Call it confidence, or jealousy, but a question begins to spill out of his mouth without his consent. "You were at the opening of BarCode, yeah?"

"Oh. Yeah. I was." Raj replies, slight confusion instantly appearing on his face.

"How'd you-" Adhira begins to say.

"So how do you know YN?" Harry asks, ignoring the touch he feels on his forearm from Gemma's hand, most likely to reign him in before anything unpleasant starts. He doesn't care about staying casual with this conversation. He won't be mean, he just wants the answers. Again, torturing himself further. It's sadistic at this point.

"Well, we…" Raj's gaze shoots over to Adhira with widened eyes and he points between the two of them. "We are cousins. So, I've known YN for a long time."

"That's nice. How well do you know her?" Harry quickly inquires, noticing Adhira's mild glare, and instantly feeling Gemma's hand squeezing his skin as she clears her throat.

"Sorry, guys, we should probably order now." Gemma states, scowling at her brother as she tries to move him along. He notices the apologetic look she gives her friend. Their friend. "I'll call you later, Addy."

As everyone begins to maneuver around each other, a small box slips from Raj's hand and hits the floor. Harry stops before his foot smashes its contents, and picks up the box, noticing three sugary baked goods inside. He knows who the extra one is for. It's guaranteed.

"Careful with those. YN will be upset if they don't serve their purpose." He states, handing it over to the man who inevitably gets to hand its contents over to the woman he loves. Now he knows that the sight of any dessert will be damning.

Raj nods and Harry begins to step towards the counter when he feels another hand, one not belonging to his sister, grip onto his shoulder. He turns to see Adhira with a deer-in-headlights expression. She's usually so direct, and sure of herself, that this reaction causes Harry to chuckle.

"What did you just say?" She asks him quietly.

A mild panic begins to set in. He had been too bold with his statements, or too aggressive with Raj. Now Adhira is pissed and of course that will get back to YN. He wishes he knew when he would stop being an idiot.

"I, umm, I thought one was for her." He replies shyly. "And she said something like that to me before… so I was just…"

"Excuse us." She states, looking between Raj and Gemma, immediately pulling Harry through the cafe and out the front door.

"Addy, m'sorry, I-"

"When did she say that to you, Harry?" She asks, her features softening so suddenly that Harry shakes his head to confirm his eyesight isn't tricking him.

"Here."

"When?"

He straightens up, worried about what she may be thinking, but also proud that he is finally able to pull from all the memories he has of YN.

"When we first met."

Adhira lets out a breath so full that Harry is certain there is no air left in her lungs.

"Oh my god." She looks up at him, gripping onto his shoulder with the hand that's void of her coffee cup. The hold on him doesn't feel like it's meant to inflict any pain. Instead, it oddly feels as if it could lift him off the ground with joy. "You remember that?"

"I remember everything." He whispers, unsure if he was loud enough for her to hear. His question is instantly answered when she wraps her arms around him and lets out an excited squeal as she pulls away.

A smile appears across his face as he notices the water beginning to form in the corner of her eyes. However, his heart begins to sink, knowing that regaining his memories doesn't do any good for him now. Especially now, with Raj around.

"Holy shit! This is fucking crazy! I mean, it's good, but, like, crazy good! When? When did this happen?"

Harry clears his throat, suddenly feeling anxiety begin to bubble up inside.

"Umm, 'bout a week ago. After the BarCode opening night. I found-" He stops himself before admitting any more. No one else knew about the ring, and it should probably stay that way. It's just him, his mum, and Gemma. Things have been complicated enough, and he selfishly wants to hold onto that knowledge so it doesn't get spoiled. Even though nothing will come of it. "I found some songs I wrote 'bout her and it all kinda just came back to me at once."

"Does she know?" She immediately asks, but Harry simply responds with a small shake of his head. "Why not?"

It really is a good question. His simple answer is that she deserves better. And that's true. The deeper part of it is that he didn't choose her when he lost his memory, a mistake he will forever regret. But he doesn't want her to be with him just because he remembers. Just as she didn't want to feel like an obligation, he doesn't want to either. He hurt her. Even with injury as an excuse, he still did that to her, and she does, truly, deserve better than that.

"I hurt her. Too much." He finally replies, dropping his gaze to the ground as that recent night flashes in front of his eyes.

"Harry, yeah, she's hurting…" Adhira grabs one of his shoulders as a frown forms between his brows. His eyes meet hers and she gives him a small smile. "But she loves you. You love her, right?"

"F'course I do!" His heart begins to race at the thought of how much he loves her. Partly because of how strong the feeling is, but also from the fear of no longer being able to express it to her. "But… I don't know if I deserve the chance."

Adhira is silent for a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground, causing Harry's chest to tighten. He's felt, for a long time now, that he has probably fucked it up too much for her to take him back, and seeing her best friend's hesitation to speak is beginning to give him that confirmation that the outcome he dreads is actually true.

"I think she deserves to know though." She finally responds, looking back up at him with a compassionate expression. He doesn't know how to feel about that. But his chest remains tight.

"I'm not going to say you'll get her back, but you need to talk to her..." She adds. "At least try to!"

Try? Their friend, YN's best friend, is suggesting he try. Maybe things with Raj aren't serious. It's only been a few weeks after all. Maybe, and only maybe, Harry does have a chance. But hope has been cruel to him before.

"How?"

Again she is silent, stepping back from him and raising her finger to her mouth as she contemplates her answer.

"Meet me at BarCode later, at like 2pm." She replies.

"Why are you helping me?" He asks, his brow furrowing again, not in anger, but confusion. She knows what he has done. She doesn't need to do this for him.

"What?" Her own baffled expression quickly appearing on her face in response. "Because you're my friend too, Harry, and you both deserve to be happy."

A breath he didn't know he was holding is released, and gratitude softly bubbles up so strongly that he could float away. Finally, he has someone to help. Someone on his side. Someone who believes he actually does deserve an opportunity and is willing to nudge that possibility along.

Finally, he lets himself feel hope.

•••

Harry takes a deep breath before knocking on the bar's front door. It opens in an hour, so the door is locked, but he doesn't have to wait too long before Adhira opens it up and motions him to come in. He isn't sure what will become of this little meetup, but he is thankful it will be in private. For the most part. Adhira motions him over to sit on a barstool, and Aman walks up behind the bar. Adhira sits next to Harry, and her brother rests his elbows on the counter. The atmosphere seems serious and nerves shoot through Harry.

"So. We've come up with a plan." Adhira begins, pointing between herself and Aman. Harry couldn't be more bewildered.

"Okay…" He responds.

"Well, it's not about making her take you back, or whatever you call it… but at least you can have the opportunity… to talk or something… both of you… because, like-"

"Oh my god, Adhira, take longer." Aman chuckles, rolling his eyes and looking directly at Harry. "Harry, would you and your band want to play here Friday night?"

Again, he feels nothing but confusion. He wonders if the two of them are even having the same conversation with him.

"Sure." He shrugs, looking between the siblings. He figures he'll have to talk to the others, but he can almost guarantee they'll say yes. He knows they've been wanting to play gigs, waiting for him to be ready and willing again, even if they haven't expressed those sentiments out loud.

"My scheming sister figures it'll give you the chance to talk to YN, if she can get her here. And you can speak your peace, or whatever it is you wanna do."

"I'm not scheming!" Adhira exclaims, smacking her brother on the arm. "I'm just… organizing an opportune moment for them to talk…"

Aman scoffs and Harry chuckles. He will take whatever he can get if it means he can talk to YN. Although, he is still unsure why they are helping him when Raj, their own cousin, is there making her happy. As much as he doesn't want to bring it up, he has to ask. He has to know what his odds are in this plan of theirs.

"Umm… what about Raj?" He asks quietly, internally wincing at the name. He has nothing against him, except the fact that he is in the position that Harry desires to be in.

The siblings both shoot their gazes over to him and it causes Harry to sit up straighter. Maybe they forgot about that hurdle for him.

"Huh?"

"Well, I, umm, I saw him and YN talking on opening night. She… she looked happy. I don't wanna… shit… I just want her to be happy." He admits. It's true, and he's been telling himself that since his little epiphany about his feelings for her, even before his memories came back. Because ultimately, as miserable as he would be, and it would be a lot, her happiness is the most important thing to him.

They look at each and laugh.

"What? No!" Adhira giggles. "He's our cousin. He met her at a family gathering years ago. It's not, no, he's married! They just haven't seen each other in a long time."

"He's taking over the bar for me while Priya and I get ready for the wedding and go on our honeymoon." Aman adds, and Harry has never felt more relieved than at this moment. Hope grows. He can't help it now. She hasn't moved on. She still loves him and she hasn't moved on.

"Is that… why you walked out that night?" She asks, a very quizzical look and tone leaving her as the words come out. Harry just drops his gaze and shrugs. "Oh, Harry. Shit. I'm sorry."

"S'alright. It's my fault this all happened." He replies, still not meeting either of their gazes. "I just wanna make it right."

"Hey." Adhira reaches out to him and places her hand on his. "She's my best friend, but we still love you too. As angry as I've been for her, I do know this has been hard on you. Especially now."

Again, relief floods over him, like his worries are being washed away as he stands under a waterfall, and he can't help but smile at the knowledge that he isn't hated by everyone else.

"Thank you." He mumbles happily, overwhelmed by all the positivity that's coming his way now. He hated having hope. He kept getting let down. But now, he could care less, because the feeling he has of possibly winning over the woman he loves is too much to dismiss.

"Okay." He adds, beginning to show off an uncontrollable grin. "Let's do this."

•••

Just as Harry thought, it didn't take any convincing to get Mitch and Sarah on board, and that was before he even explained the greater intent behind the gig. After that, they immediately began to create a setlist. He expressed his desire to add at least one of the new songs he has written for her, and they didn't even question the suggestion.

So here they are. Backstage at BarCode on a Friday night, waiting to head out and perform their set.

"That is the eighteenth time you've looked out there, man. I'm sure she'll come." Mitch states, wrapping his arm around his shoulders.

Doubt tries to creep in, sure, but he is holding onto that strong, newfound hope. That doesn't mean he isn't anxious. Outrageously anxious. This is kind of all or nothing at this point, which doesn't help the nerves, but he is willing to put it all out there for YN.

Raj, who Harry has coincidentally become very fond of, walks in and lets them know they have five minutes until they are due on stage. Harry walks over to their sheet music, looking over their song choices for the hundredth time.

He feels a palm on the back of his shoulder and looks up to see Sarah's smile. "Let's just have a fun night."

He returns her smile, thankful that she wants to calm him, even though his nerves remain at their peak. Not only is it due to YN, but also the fact that he hasn't performed for months now. Especially not in front of a crowd. He can only think on how important this night is.

"Ready?" Mitch asks, pulling him back to the moment.

"S'pose." Harry chuckles, nodding to his friend, taking a few deep breaths, and grabbing his guitar to walk out on stage.

The bright lights stun him for a moment as he sets up, looking out to the crowd occasionally to adjust his vision. Once it clears, he instantly scans each face, desperate to find the only person he cares about being there.

His heart sinks, not meeting her beautiful eyes, but as he hears Mitch strum a chord to check his sound, Harry places his guitar down and clears his throat as he steps closer to the mic.

"Hello. I'm Harry. And these are my friends, Mitch and Sarah." He begins, his voice quiet to start. "We are, umm, here to entertain, hopefully, with a few songs. You are here to, hopefully, enjoy your night. So… let's get this started, shall we?"

As routine as those words have been from previous gigs, tonight has too much going on for him to feel composed. He's really counting on the music to get him back into the groove and shake off all of the anxiety he's flooded with.

"We're gonna start with a couple of cover songs, and if you know them, please sing along." He states, looking to Sarah, to not only acknowledge that she can count them in, but also to allow himself a quick moment to take another deep breath.

He's thankful that they are starting with a Fleetwood Mac song, because it is one he can sing without truly thinking about. And that's what he's doing. Lyrics just falling out, and unfamiliar faces staring back at him, he closes his eyes and stays that way until the song ends. Applause pries them back open and he nods to the crowd.

"Thank you. That was 'The Chain' by Fleetwood Mac. Such a good song." He states, giving a small smile as turns around to face the drums. He squeezes his hands together, subtly shaking his head as he looks up at Sarah, graciously accepting her reassuring nod. But his hands still shake as he picks up his guitar.

He swivels back to the mic, momentarily placing the pick between his teeth as he runs his hand through his already sweaty locks.

"This… umm… so, uh, this next… song…" He mumbles, his voice becoming just as shaky as his hands. His eyes begin to flicker up to the crowd and his gaze instantly lands on a familiar face. His breath hitches and he steps back from the mic, quickly turning around to Mitch and Sarah.

"I'm changing the order." He whispers. "Just follow me."

He stands up straighten as he turns back around, his eyes once again meeting the gaze he found seconds before.

"This next one is a new one." He speaks clearly into the mic. "I hope you like it."

He looks down at his guitar for a moment as he plays the first few chords of the song, one he wrote specifically for this night. For this moment. One he could sing specifically for YN.

Now you are standing there right in front of me

I hold on, it's getting harder to breathe

All of a sudden these lights are blinding me

I never noticed how bright they would be

As he stares into those intoxicating eyes of hers, singing the next lines, all nerves fade away. He should be surprised. Anyone else would think it would cause them to peak, but the thing about YN is that she always made him feel at ease. She was the reason he started playing gigs, and she was the reason he was confident enough to do so. Looking at her always made everything okay, and that hasn't changed.

I'll keep my eyes wide open

I'll keep my arms wide open

He can't help but let out a deep exhale, not knowing or caring if it came through the mic.

Don't let me, don't let me,

Don't let me go

'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone

Don't let me, don't let me go

'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone

His heart races as his gaze stays fixated on her, being given the same focus in return.

I promised one day that I'd bring you back a star

I caught one and it burned a hole in my hand

Seems like these days, I watch you from afar

Just trying to make you understand

God, he hopes that she knows this is all for her.

I'll keep my eyes wide open

This song, and his heart.

Don't let me, don't let me,

Don't let me go

'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone

Don't let me, don't let me go

A small watering begins to pool at the corners of his eyes, as he desperately wants to be next to her. Every part of him is drawn to her. It always has been, and this moment is no different. To him, they are the only ones in the bar right now, and the distance is killing him. But the tears are also because he is pouring out his heart to the only one who it belongs to. The love he has is so strong. He wants her to know it. And feel it. And, if this plan is any indication, he wants hers too. He wants her love so badly.

Don't let me, don't let me go

'Cause I'm tired of sleeping alone

He pulls away from the mic, and a loud applause erupts throughout the bar. But he is still zoned in on YN, embracing each and every second that he gets to look at her, and be in her presence. Even if it's from afar.

She wipes just under her eyes and he doesn't know if he is able to take that as a good sign. But now he has a boost of confidence, and also an idea. He turns around to place the guitar back down and lifts up the sheet music of the next song he wants to play.

With a quick gulp of water, he swivels back around to the crowd, gripping onto the mic and flickering his eyes quickly across the sea of faces in front of him.

"Thank you!" He exclaims, as Sarah and Mitch begin to play an extended intro to the next song.

"This is the first time we've played that one. But this next song, which is our last tonight, was written a while back. It's about... a fun love, and one of my favorites." And his eyes set back on the only person he cares to see. It's an extremely bold move for him to sing this one right, considering the state of things, but he wants to show her that he really does feel the same as he did back then. Maybe bring back the memories of those good times, for her too.

Tastes like strawberries, on a summer evening

And it sounds just like a song

I want more berries, and that summer feeling

It's so wonderful and warm

Only YN knows the real meaning behind this one.

Breathe me in, breathe me out

I don't know if I could ever go without

I'm just thinking out loud

I don't know if I could ever go without

He subtly bites his bottom lip as all the feelings from the inspiration of the song overcome him.

Watermelon sugar high

Waternelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar

He almost laughs as he notices her palm shoot up over her mouth, which had dropped open as soon as the chorus started. He isn't sure if she is just surprised, flustered, or appalled by what he chose to sing, but he hopes she knows it's still all for her. As his eyes stayed glued on her, they unintentionally travel slowly down her figure, and he dwells on every curve. He misses her beauty, her body, her touch, and her intimacy so damn much. Now more than ever, he is craving it. Craving her. Just to be close.

I just wanna taste it, I just wanna taste it

Watermelon sugar high

He begins to smirk, and almost giggles again, as he watches her squirm slightly. He wonders if she is thinking anything even remotely similar to what he is, or if the song is reminding her of those times they had together.

Watermelon sugar high

Waternelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar

His heart immediately sinks, however, as he sees her finish her drink and hand the bartender some cash, throwing her purse over her shoulder. She looks around the room, beginning to move through the crowd, and stops when she finds her best friend.

I just wanna taste it, I just wanna taste it

Watermelon sugar high

Adhira's eyes shoot over to Harry as she gives YN a hug, and he has never wanted to run off a stage until now, seeing the love of his life walking to the front door.

I just wanna taste it, I just wanna taste it

Watermelon sugar high

Watermelon sugar

"Thank you!" He quickly exclaims, hopping off the stage and beginning to make his way through the crowd. This may be the first time he is actually bothered by the feedback from others after a gig, because each attempted initiation of an interaction keeps him further and further away from the only person he cares to talk to.

He makes it through to the front door and flings it open, frantically looking down both sides of the sidewalk for any sign of YN.

"Shit!" He shouts, throwing both hands up and resting them on top of his head, as he pants from the physical exertion he had to go through just to get outside. "Shit!"

He lets out a growl as he leans against the wall. This whole night was for her. It was supposed to show her how he feels now, how he's always felt. He had so much hope that the regaining of his memories and serenading her tonight would grant him some sort of good outcome. He would've accepted the ability to simply talk to her if that's all he could get. But he couldn't. He didn't. She is that hurt, and hates him that much, that she couldn't even bring herself to speak one word to him. And that's it.

The door suddenly flings open again, causing Harry to jolt sideways from the surprise, and looks over to see Adhira appearing next to him.

"Did you catch up to her?" She asks, breathlessly.

"No." He shakes his head and it falls down, a lump instantly forming in his throat to keep down the pain-filled whimper threatening to come out.

"Damn it." She states. "I tried to get her to stay but…"

"S'alright." He replies, leaning back against the wall, feeling tears begin to reappear and roll down his cheeks, as the reality sets in that it is actually over. He's done all he could, but it wasn't enough. "She doesn't want me. She knows I remember and then this-"

"Fuck!" Adhira interrupts. Harry's head shoots up and over to her with a deep, furrowed brow.

"What?"

"I didn't know you wanted me to tell her that you got your memory back. I thought you were going to…" She admits, smacking her palms against her forehead. "Fuck! I'm so sorry!"

"So… she doesn't know?" His heart begins to race, not yet able to determine the exact emotion behind it.

"No…" She quietly replies.

"So… I was just singing songs about her, to her, and she didn't know why?" He asks, suddenly letting out a loud laugh and bending over from the tightness it created in his stomach. "I must've looked like an idiot."

"Harry, I'm so, so sorry." Adhira states, turning completely to him with the most apologetic expression.

He simply shakes his head. He really can't be surprised that none of this worked out the way he wanted it to, but he knows exactly what he is going to do now. He pushes himself off the wall and begins to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Adhira shouts out to him.

Harry turns around back in her direction, and a confident smile grows across his face.

"To tell her."

"Tell her what?"

"Everything."

~~~~~

Series Masterlist

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