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frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months

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⛧𝙽𝚊𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚕 𝙱𝚘𝚛𝚗 𝙺𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝙸𝙸𝙸⛧

⛧ Pairing: poly!slasher!minsung x chubby!fem!reader

⛧ Genre: slasher au/horror/fluff/angst

⛧ Summary: It's been two weeks since that fateful night your crushes revealed their killer hobby to you. You promise yourself you'll never look back but your ties to each other can't be severed so easily. Especially not when your own gruesome urges begin to creep in and an unexpected visitor gives you the perfect opportunity to set them free. Do you have it in you to resist or are you destined to return to them?

⛧ Word Count: 2.1k-ish

⛧ Warnings: horror elements, masturbation (f w/ vibrator), blood, violence (none between you 3 though. you psychos love each other too much), someone breaks into reader's house w/ short fight scene after, erotic homicidal urges, dead bodies, strong language, you become a killer bby girl, suggestive convos, everyone gets kinda sentimental, & that's all.

⛧ A/N: I'm such a spooky girl at my core (it's where my writing roots are) so it's been fun writing this dark comedy/romance and I love you forever if you're joining this quite odd ride with me.

Also thank youuu @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 and @lxsunshine for asking to be tagged! I've never really had a tag list but if anyone else wants to be, totally let me know! 🖤

💀 <<< Rewind to Tape 1 <<< 💀

Somewhere along the way your wires got crossed. You could blame it on Han and Minho for what they did but that’d be unfair wouldn’t it? What they uncovered in you—the same darkness lurking within themselves—has alway been here and it refuses to be buried again. But you try.

It’s been a long 15 minutes soaking in this bath with one leg draped over the side of the tub and your waterproof vibrator buzzing away beneath the lilac bubbles. Music plays in your headphones, ambient tunes meant to melt the tension from your body. Squeezing your eyes shut you try—you really try—to chase off intrusive visions of two sickeningly handsome psychopaths. You don’t want to remember what you saw that night but the picture’s so clear in your head that it might as well be playing out in front of you all over again.

For the few seconds that you manage to shake the thought, your vibrator feels useless. It hums against your walls with all the enjoyment of a leg that’s fallen asleep. But when the image snaps back into frame—them standing there in nearly nothing, blood dripping down their bodies—it feels heavenly. The pleasure travels through you in pulses, spreading further out the longer you indulge in your memories.

This isn’t right. You have to stop. You know you do. So do it. You can’t. Lie to yourself all you want but this is what you need. Water splashes onto the floor as your leg slips into the tub, moans dancing freely from your lips. Your heart thumps like a techno beat, battling the light music in your headphones for dominance.

The pressure in your lower belly overtakes you, dangerously close to erupting. Crashing into your high, your eyes fall open and you’re met with a face you haven’t seen in months. You open your mouth to scream but a hand is already around your throat, dragging you out of the bathtub.

“Where’s my brother?” the man shouts, the dim lighting in the bathroom only partially concealing a face twisted with rage.

You claw at his hands, nails slicing through his skin like razors. He grunts, gripping his bloody hand, and tosses you across the floor. A framed picture crashes to the floor as you hit the wall with a thud, your ears ringing at the impact. Turning to lunge at you again, he trips on the soaking wet bath mat and falls at your feet. You latch onto the toilet, struggling to pull yourself up when you’re still covered in bubbles.

“I know you know something! So tell me!” he demands, catching you by the ankle. He uses all of his strength to drag you down but you’re too slippery to hold onto.

“I don’t know where your fucking brother is!” you scream, grabbing onto the toilet tank. Tucking your fingers under the lip of the heavy lid, you pull at it as hard as you can.

“You’re lying! Either tell me what happened or I’ll make you, you fucking bi—”

Ding! You swing around and crack him in the head with the porcelain lid. He stares up, not particularly at you, his gaze empty. Everything goes dark for him, blood gushing down his head, and he’s down. High off of adrenaline, you toss on your robe and run for the phone at the end of the hall. Hands shaking, tears running down your cheeks, you pick it up to call the cops. But something stops you.

Instinct takes over and your fingers are already dialing the new number. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and find yourself fixated on the bloody skin under your nails. The line rings so many times that you almost think no one will answer.

“My baby!” Han cheers on the other end of the call, taking a deep breath to calm himself down. “I missed you.”

There’s some shuffling followed by Minho’s voice, “We missed you!”

You flick the skin from under your nails, smiling to yourself. “Hi boys,” you sniffle, knowing there’s no turning back, “I missed you too. You wouldn’t happen to be, uh, busy tonight would you?”

Minho feels like an old man who can’t get his dick up. It might actually be easier if he were. At least then there’d be a pill to fix what he’s going through. Ever since you walked out that door both he and Han have had the worst dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The only dry spell they’ve ever experienced. The last body they touched was your ex’s. They threw it, every last piece of it, somewhere no one would ever find him and left it at that. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

Detectives call what they’re going through a “cooling off” period. It’s the time between murders when a serial killer returns to their normal lives, biding their time until they can kill again. Poking his spoon around in a bowl of soggy cereal, a pouty Minho doubts that’ll happen any time soon. “I hate this!” he whines, kicking his feet up on the coffee table.

Han pushes his legs away, flopping down beside him on the couch, “Get your feet off my coffee table.”

“Meh meh meh meh meh meh meh” Minho mocks, deflating when it hits him that he can hardly enjoy picking on Han anymore.

Han scooches closer to Minho, offering him a shoulder to lay his head on. Minho takes it, feeling Han’s sadness without having to see the heartbroken look on his face. No matter how much he teases him, Han’s his best friend. They’re brothers. They understand each other like no one else can and he knows how badly Han hoped you would too.

“You wanna go to the medical history museum tomorrow?” Minho asks, calling upon all of his cuteness to make Han happy.

Han doesn’t answer but exhales a “Hmm…” that signals he might be interested.

Minho bats his eyelashes, laying it on heavy, “Come on, they have the world’s largest collection of human skulls. You know you love good head. I mean, no, wait, that didn’t…shit.” Han hangs his head, laughing so hard it makes him wheeze. “Why would you say that? Just why?”

Minho sits up, elbowing him in the side, “Fuck you. I was trying to cheer you up.”

Han throws his arms around Minho, hugging him tightly, “Stop sulking! I’ll go! Who needs a girl when you have the world’s largest collection of human skulls, ya know?”

Minho narrows his eyes, resisting the urge to fight against the hug just this once. Deep down inside, really deep, he loves it. “Exactly” he huffs, “Women are a distraction anyway. We’re better off without her.”

Ring! Ring! Ring! The sound of the phone sucks all of the air from the room and their stomachs collectively sink. In record time they’re halfway across the room, pushing each other out of the way to check the caller ID. Your name flashes on it and Han snatches it up just as Minho’s fingers graze the buttons.

Han answers the phone, almost too excited to contain himself, “My baby!” Minho folds his arms, quietly judging Han for being such a dork about this.

“I missed you” Han says, lower this time, his back turned to Minho.

What happened to not needing you? What happened to being better off without you? Oh, fuck it.

Minho steals the phone, blushing so hard his ears turn red, “We missed you.”

A minimum of six traffic laws were broken when the boys realized something had happened to you. Of course you couldn’t tell them the incriminating details over the phone. Luckily, hearing you cry was more than enough for them to stop everything and speed across the city to check on you. They really only cared about seeing you again but the presence of a possibly dead body doesn’t hurt.

In your second stroke of luck tonight, if you can call it that, you’re positive no one knows he’s here. There’s nothing on him to track him by. He came only with the tools he used to break in and a taser he no doubt intended to use on you. And there won’t be any fuss from your downstairs neighbor. She hasn’t been able to hear since 1982. All that’s left is the matter of what to do with him.

Gathered in your bathroom, the three of you stand over the body carefully watching for signs of life. Han and Minho glance at each other behind your back. They’re both wondering the same thing but don’t know how to ask. They play a quick game of rock, paper, scissors. Han’s rock and he hates that for himself. Minho’s paper and he’s never been happier. Minho mouths, “Loser” and Han flips him off.

“Baby” Han says sweetly, holding your hand, “Were you and this guy, like…”

You stare at him, happy to be holding his hand but genuinely confused, “Were we?” Reading the room, you pick up on what they mean. “No, no, no! Never! This…” you say, kicking the motionless body, “Is my ex’s shithead brother. He broke in cause he wants to know where his brother is.”

Minho shrugs, pulling the belt to your bathrobe out, “Let’s make sure they’re reunited then shall we?” He wraps the belt around each hand a few times until there’s tension in the fabric and just enough room to fit a human neck. Minho sits down on the floor, positioning the man’s head in his lap. He’s ready to tighten the belt around his neck but there’s something bugging him. “Do you guys hear that?”

You all listen closely, picking up on a nearly inaudible buzzing. Han follows the sound over to the bathtub where the bubbles have long dissolved and spots the source immediately. He rolls his sleeves up and reaches into the water, pulling out your vibrator.

“Oh my god. Give it here!” you shriek, taking it and switching it off. You toss it in the cabinet under the sink, unable to handle how much they’re obviously loving this. “So, did you come at least?” Minho asks, relaxing his hold on the belt.

“I’m not answering that.”

Han’s studied you enough to tell when you’re lying. “She did! Did you think about us when you did it?”

Minho giggles, far too pleased with himself, “She did.”

“Go to hell!” you snap, getting on your knees beside Minho. You take the belt from him, winding it around your hands the same way that he did. “Show me.”

Your boldness throws them off—this is far from what they were expecting—but they don’t hesitate to guide you. Han joins you on the other side, showing you how to hold the belt properly. Minho checks the pulse before propping the body up for you. It’s weak but it’s there. It feels natural to be doing this together, like the space between them was always meant to be one you’d inhabit.

“Thanks for coming, you guys” you say, seconds from strangling a man, “Most guys won’t even buy me flowers and you risked the electric chair for me. That’s way sweet”

“You’re worth risking the electric chair for” Han coos, kissing you on the cheek.

Minho nods in agreement, kissing you on the other cheek, “Cutie.”

Your cheeks are so warm and you can’t stop yourself from smiling. You’re basically glowing at the love being poured into you. It’s perfect enough that you regret running away from it to begin with but that won’t happen this time.

“Aah!” the man croaks, shooting back into consciousness. He tries to sit up but you use the belt to hold him down, squeezing it as hard as you can around his neck. You lock your legs around him, something they didn’t need to instruct you to do, and hang on until he goes limp. They look at you like they’re terrified of you, afraid to make any sudden movements in case you’re in the mood to come for them too.

Han takes him by the wrist, checking his pulse, “He’s…dead. Holy shit. You killed a guy.”

“I killed a guy?”

“You did! Good girl” Minho applauds, breaking out into a happy dance.

You and Han join him, dancing to totally different songs in your head but celebrating together nonetheless. Han gets up from the floor, dusting himself off, “Now you’ve just gotta chop him up. Got any food in your fridge? I’m hungry.” He wanders off to the kitchen, leaving you and Minho alone in the bathroom.

Minho gets up too, kissing you on the top of the head. “I could use a midnight snack too” he yawns following Han’s lead, “Be careful with the radial artery, love. It bleeds like a bitch.”

Pushing the body off of you, you hop up to chase after them. “Wait! You’re ditching me for snacks? I don’t have the tools for this. And what the fuck is a radial artery?”

#stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids angst #stray kids au #minsung x reader #han jisung x reader #lee know x reader #han jisung angst #lee know angst #lee know x you #han jisung x you #chubby reader #plus size reader

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lieutenantfloyd · 2 years

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Heyyyy!!! Since you're writing Maze Runner stories now I wanted to make a request. So it's a Minho TMR x female reader were Minho gets hurt somehow and the reader fixes him up and it's all cute and kinda hot. THANK YOUUUU

Promise Me This - Minho x Reader

Words: 1.2k

Summary: Reader, the keeper of the medjacks, is having a completely uneventful day. That is until Minho returns from the maze battered, bloody, and refusing to be treated by anyone but reader.

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood/bandages, hurt/comfort trope, mentions of y/n, and some angst followed by fluff and a little bit of spice.

Note: This ended up kinda angsty, but I hope the comfort makes up for the hurt :)

Read on AO3

Sitting at a small table in the med-jack hut, you lazily organized and reorganized the various baskets of medical supplies. Being the primary medic for a group of well over 50 teenage boys kept you on your toes, but today had been slow and quiet. Sliding the basket of gauze back into place for what felt like the millionth time, you let your shoulders slump. Running your hands over your face you couldn't ignore the sleepiness pulling at your eyelids. The sun had already started its descent towards the west walls, but you hadn't treated a single person. By some miracle, even your most frequent patients; the builders, slicers, and track hoes; had maintained being completely injury-free. You pushed your chair back and walked out of the hut and into the bright mid-day sun. Stretching, you hoped the sunshine and fresh air would wake you. A short walk later you decided to abandon your original plans and instead stride over to the hammocks for a rare but much-needed mid-day nap. - Your slumber had been entirely peaceful until you awoke suddenly. It took your sleep-riddled brain a minute to catch up to what was happening that caused you to wake so jarringly. Hearing the sound of boots against the earth and distant shouts, you mumbled a curse beneath your breath. So much for a slow and quiet day. Making your way out of the hammock and into the open area of the glade, you tried to piece together what was happening. Your fellow gladers were scattered around the north doors, the air vibrating with panic. Despite the chaos, three voices, one sounding pained, were cutting clear above everyone else's. You couldn't make out the words from your distance but something told you to hurry up and get over there. Your walk turned into a sprint as drops of adrenaline started pumping through you. Pushing your way to the front of the group, your heart dropped into your stomach. Like always, the runners, your runner, had returned just before sunset. Except this time Minho looked like hell. His clothes were filthy and ripped while his exposed skin was covered in an assortment of cuts and already-formed bruises. Worst of all he was incoherent and frantic, evading Newt and Thomas's desperate attempts to calm their best friend down. Your body froze while your brain screamed for you to run to him. Luckily, a rather out-of-breath Newt caught sight of you and breathed a relieved "Finally!" before leaving Thomas to bargain with Minho. Newt hurriedly made his way over to you and wasted no time catching you up on things. "There you are! Two runners dragged Minho back half conscious. We tried to get Clint and Jeff to look him over, but then he woke up and had us chasing him around the entire shucking glade. He's been yelling for you ever since." Without another word, Newt dragged you into the open area Thomas and Minho were occupying. Upon Newt's return, Thomas said something to Minho that vaguely sounded like "See? I told you she was coming." before he stood and moved next to you. "Something happened out there but he won't... or can't... tell us what," Thomas warned quietly before walking off over to where Newt stood off to the side. But you couldn't quite hear him over the sound of your heart breaking as Minho's eyes met yours. In less than a second, Minho was on his feet and rushing towards you. His crazed look changed to one of total peace as his gaze locked on you. You paced forward and met him halfway, pulling him into your arms. You stayed strong while he all but melted into your touch. Minutes later, you begrudgingly forced yourself to pull away, scanning his face for injuries while your thumbs brushed over his cheekbones. Thankfully, Thomas, Newt, and a few other of your friends took the time you spent calming Minho down to disperse the crowd, allowing you to shuffle Minho into the nearby med-hut without a problem. - Fifteen minutes later, he sat on the table with you standing between his legs while you bandaged him up. His shoulders slumped and his arms hung loosely around your waist. Exhaustion had fully taken him over. As long as you knew Minho, getting him to put on as much of a bandaid was harder than anything else you'd ever done. Yet here he sat perfectly still while you fussed over his wounds. Dabbing an alcohol-dipped cotton ball over his last untreated cut, you tried to swallow down the worry building inside you. "What happened out there?" You asked before your mind could stop you. The look in his eyes grew distant as a stiff silence filled the air. Making quick work of applying the last bandage, you reach your hand up and gently stroked the short dark hair at the back of his neck. Seconds stretched into minutes as his mind recounted whatever he'd encountered in the maze. "It was just supposed to be a normal run. Just like always-" he started, his voice barely above a whisper. "-and the grievers they... t-they..." His voice trailed off as a protective rage exploded in your chest. "Shh, it's okay. I'm here." you cooed, allowing him to take a deep breath before you continued. "How can I help you? What can I do for you?" "I just... I just..." Before your mind even registered what was happening, his lips were against yours. Your heart simultaneously raced and stopped completely. Kissing Minho was always electrifying, but this was different. This kiss was heavy, feverish, and protective. Sinking into the kiss fully, your hands traveled up his sides and around his shoulders. Careful to avoid the areas you'd just bandaged. His previously relaxed hold on your waist turned into his hands working their way under your shirt to grasp and kneed at your hips firmly. His tongue forced its way into your mouth. The action gaining a soft moan from both of you. This only adds fuel to his fire. Pulling you impossibly closer to him, your hands move down and across his ribs. That's when feel him wince. "Shit, I'm sorry," you whisper to him.

You pull away, causing Minho to emit a low whine. He rests his forehead against yours breathlessly. Thoughts hazy with a cornucopia of feelings but his grip on you never falters. “I'm just a little sore. That's all.” He replies unconvincingly. Your expression sours and he sighs. “y/n, you and I both know It’ll take a whole lot more this to get rid of me. I'm fine. Really." When you hesitate to respond, He wastes no time pulling you back towards him, this time into a near bone-crushing hug. Securing one of his arms around your waist, the other moves to allow his hand to rub your back slowly in reassurance. As much as you fight it, you can't help melting under his strong yet gentle touch. Your head drops onto his shoulder and he smiles. The position now allowing him to place a kiss on your cheek before he leans further into your embrace. “I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers against your soft skin.

"...promise?" you challenge timidly. "Promise."

#minho #tmr minho #minho tmr x reader #minho x reader #tmr fic #tmr x reader #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #minho the maze runner #top gun #top gun maverick

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nagito-kissmaeda · 8 months

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If it isn't real why does the sun still burn?

Chapter masterlist

Summary : Like most people visiting this tag. You have always dreamed of meeting Nagito Komaeda for real, what you would do, what you would say? Things don’t go as planned.

AKA: Reader from our universe ends up in danganronpa and is just trying her best to keep everyone alive. and maybe to make komaeda kiss her.

Contains: she/her pronouns, some mild sexual themes

Read on Ao3

The beach is bustling when the two of you arrive. Pekoyama quickly gives you a farewell nod as she heads off to accompany Kuzuryu where he is sitting in the shallows and trying to make it look like he isn't having a good time.

You can see Mioda already in the water, chasing Souda around and attempting to throw a handful of seaweed at him. He is screaming. Owari is sitting at the shoreline with her legs in the water, she’s halfway through an ice cream, but still manages to grin widely when she waves in your direction. You return the wave and make plans to head over to her before you notice Tsumiki and Sonia sitting together in the sand.

Tsumiki’s hands shake as she attempts to round the edges of the sandcastle that the two of them are currently working on. Sonia’s tongue sticks out of her mouth as she, opposite Tsumiki, continues adding a set of perfect flying buttresses to the castle; you are unsure how she has managed this, but have learned not to question these sorts of things.

“You’ve made it!” Sonia says with a wide smile, now beginning to sculpt a collection of tiny gargoyles around the top level of the castle, “I hope you were not too disappointed by my early departure, I just think Mioda-san is often in need of supervision.” You peer up at where she is now trying to toss a starfish onto the top of Souda’s head, “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s okay, I had a nice conversation with Pekoyama-san.” Tsumiki looks up at you, she’s wearing a wide brimmed hat and a loose fitting white shirt over her bathing suit. It makes sense that a nurse would care about sun safely, the hat suits her, she looks very cute, “I-I’m glad you came. I hope you have a good time” She smiles softly, hands now shakily building a drawbridge, “Just be sure not to get burnt this time, I have more sunscreen if you need it, please take care of yourself.” She huffs, “I’ve already had this discussion with Komaeda-san, but I-I think he’s just going to ig-ignore my advice.”

You hadn't noticed Komaeda, which is very out of character for you. He’s in the water, but far enough away from everyone else that he seems excluded. His own doing, you assume.

“Would you like to help us?” Sonia asks, abruptly tearing your attention away from Komaeda.

You blink, “Sorry?” She laughs, though not unkindly, “Help to build our sandcastle, of course!”

You look briefly at the perfect replication of gothic architecture somehow sculpted out of sand alone, “Thanks but uh, I might work on expanding the royal empire and build my own castle, if it’s all the same.” Sonia claps her hands together in glee, “Expansionism! How delightful!”

“I-I might swim now, actually.” Tsumiki starts, “I-If that’s okay, Sonia-san?” “You don’t need my permission.” Sonia replies, waving a dismissive hand, “You’ve done a brilliant job, Tsumiki-san, and all castle architects are owed at least one day of allocated time off per castle built, so by all means! You are free to go.” Tsumiki nods gratefully, and rises a little shakily from the sand before heading to the water.

You turn to Sonia, “Only one day of leave per castle?” She nods seriously, “Oh yes, my father always said ‘any less than that and they start getting rambunctious’. We tried only half a day some years ago, the riots were very bloody.” “Uh-huh…”

“Anyway! I might go ask Tanaka-san if I can hold one of his Dark Devas.” She stands with utter grace and poise, giving you a brief curtsey before walking away. You are briefly stunned by the utterly dismal working conditions in Novoselic, but shake your head and sit in the sand before you start thinking about it too much.

You start building the only kind of sandcastle you have experience with, a big pile of sand that is vaguely pyramid shaped. It’s nice to have something to do with your hands, a monotonous task to keep you occupied while the ever turning cogs in your head crunch and grind. You have to assume that Monokuma will bring out a new motive soon, and at this point you can only assume that it will be the despair disease. It’s hard to tell if access to the third island will make everything better or worse, Tsumiki having access to the hospital is a net good, only so long as she doesn’t catch the disease itself, and boy is that disease catching.

Peering out at the ocean you see that Tsumiki is swimming with Mioda now, more accurately, Tsumiki is treading water while Mioda quite literally swims circles around her. Tsumiki deserves better than she got in the game, so does Mioda.

You turn back to your castle, attempting to make it any sort of shape other than a vague lump. It feels weird to just be hanging around like this when so much is at stake, but there isnt much that you can do other than socialise and socialising is more useful than doing nothing. Trust is valuable, especially here, even if it’s something you aren’t all that used to garnering.

“Nice pile of sand.”

You look up to see Komaeda standing above you, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He’s still wet from the ocean, his hair clings flat to his head and it makes him look much less intimidating.

“Thanks.” You say, gesturing to your attempt at a sandcastle, “It’s my magnum opus.”

He peers down at it appraisingly and then says, “Could use a moat.”

You laugh, “You’re right.” feeling mischievous, you add, “Your hair looks nice, very drowned rat-esque.”

Komaeda bursts out laughing, hiding his face in his hands. When he looks back up at you again, his smile is so warm, and genuine that it feels like a shard of the sun has lodged in your chest.

“You’re funny.” He says

His expression is too intensely bright, you have to avert your eyes, “Thanks. I try.” you return to working on your sandcastle, anything to keep yourself from staring at him.

“Why aren't you swimming?” Komaeda asks. You peer back up at him, you were honestly expecting him to walk away when he was done mocking you, “Oh um, I just don't really want to?” He gives you a sly grin, “You can swim, can’t you?” That bristles you a little, “I’m a great swimmer actually! I love swimming!” you gesture halfheartedly to where the waves turn to foam against the sand, “I just don’t like the ocean. It’s spooky. There’s stuff in there, and the salt really hurts my eyes.”

His expression turns uncharacteristically soft and he drops to a crouch beside you. You shuffle back from him instinctively, not expecting him to get so close so quickly. For a moment, Komaeda just blinks at you slowly but then his brow creases with contemplation before he finally says, “Swim with me.”

Your heart feels like it come to a stop in your chest, “Uh- I, um-“

He laughs a little, cocking his head to the side, “That would help, wouldn’t it?”

“Um.” You wring your hands together, “I would feel better with company, but that doesn’t mean that you-”

He stands back up and holds his hand out to you, it stuns you into silence mid-sentence, you just stare up at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Come on.” Komaeda says, reaching further forward with his hand, asking you to take it.

You barely manage to swallow around the lump in your throat as you tentatively take his hand in your own. If the contact is anywhere near as momentous, electric and world shattering for him as it is for you, it doesn't show on his face, but you do catch a near imperceptible bob in his throat that you try not to read too hard into.

His hand is cold, even in the heat of the sun and you can feel just how fragile his fingers are, like if you clenched your hand too hard they would all break. He doesn’t really pull you up from the ground, but holding onto him like this does make it easier to regain your balance on the uneven sand.

The water is warm when you take your first step in, more pleasant than you ever remember the ocean actually being. Neo World Program benefits, you suppose. Komaeda walks in front of you, still tugging on your hand. The back of his head eclipses the sun, its light catching in the white strands of his hair and causing them to shimmer like folded glass.

“H-How deep are you planning to go?” You ask once the water reaches your shoulders, voice tinged with growing anxiety.

Komaeda looks back at you over his shoulder, “Not much further.”

You notice that the two of you are much deeper out than the rest of the class, barring only Nidai who is off in the distance swimming laps. There is an intimacy to it, the separation from everyone else on the beach. The second you can’t touch the ground with your toes anymore you can feel a nervous churning in your stomach. Komaeda is still walking, head and shoulders well above the water. When an admittedly small wave knocks you off balance, you panic and lurch forward to grab onto his arm.

Komaeda laughs, but it’s good natured and warm “Aha, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

You want to kiss him.

That thought is not so alarming. You have grown quite familiar with it these past few days, but the panicked and aching desperation of it is completely new. You begin to fear that you no longer have feelings for Nagito Komaeda the videogame character, but instead for Nagito Komaeda the real person. Which is somehow much more complicated and insurmountably harder to reconcile. Now that the water is deep enough, only Komaeda’s head bobs up above the water, and since you are floating in the water yourself, you actually meet his eye line for once instead of staring up at him. He watches you intently, staring so hard that it feels like he can see right through you. “Is there…something on my face?” You say quickly, trying desperately to diffuse some of the tension. He smirks, “Nope.”

Your eyes follow a droplet of water sliding down the length of his nose. Komaeda chuckles, “have I got something on my face?”

You quickly avert your gaze, “No! It’s just, uh-“ you suck in a breath, “Why are you even spending time with me? I’m not exactly working towards ending the killing game right at this moment, so there’s really no reason for you to be talking to me.” Komaeda’s brow furrows, “There’s something about you,” he says, “Ah, I'm not sure what it is, but it interests me.”

You close your eyes, feeling the cold dread filling your chest cavity, “What if I’m not interesting?” You say desperately, “What if it only seems like I am?”

“Hm, I don’t understand what you mean.” He smiles, “Whether or not I find you interesting is entirely up to me.”

“But I’m not . I'm not worth your time, or your effort, I need your help so I’m trying desperately to keep you around but the second you realise who I really am, what I really am, you’re going to hate me. I just know it.”

Komaeda hums aloud, “I suppose, the others are right.”

“What?”

He laughs, “it is uncomfortable being on the receiving end of this kind of talk. I suppose I owe everyone an apology.”

You are suddenly forced to wrestle with the fact that Nagito Komaeda thinks you are laying on the self depreciation a little too thick, “Sorry.” You say quickly, shaking your head “I didn’t mean to just say all of that at you.”

Komaeda goes quiet for a moment, staring at you intimidatingly, “You would do anything to help the Ultimates defeat this despair, wouldn't you?”

“I uh-” You swallow thickly, “I think the both of us have a very different definition of help , but I will do all that I can to make sure everyone gets out alive, yes.”

“You promised to die for my cause, if your own method fails.” He cocks his head to the side, “Why?”

Your breath grows uneven, and you can hear your own heartbeat in your ears, “Because I won’t fail.” Komaeda chuckles, “Ha. You're confident.” You shake your head, “I’m really not, but I’m the only one who can do it, so I have to.” you sigh to yourself, remembering that even if you manage to keep everyone alive, they will still need to grapple with their identities as the Remnants and the destruction of the world they once knew, “What I do isn’t what’s important though, the hard part comes after and how that resolves is entirely up to you and the other Ultimates. I’m just doing what I can to make sure everyone survives until then.” “How can you say things like that and expect me not to find you interesting.” His eyes are half lidded, and his grin is loose, “We aren’t so different, you and I. We are both working towards bringing the Ultimates to their next exuberant victory, over a despair even greater than the last.” He sighs, “But I have to admit, I’m still just a little curious about how you know all of this, and what comes after.”

You frown, “I can’t tell you. I can hardly expect you to behave yourself if I did.” Komaeda barks a laugh, “Behave myself?”

“Yes. You’ve promised to help me, and if you’re going to, then I need you to behave . So no spoilers.”

“You have a lot of nerve speaking to your superiors that way.” He says, but his expression holds none of the malice that his words convey.

Feeling brave, you reply, “Good thing it’s just you here, then, isn't it?” If anything, his eyes grow brighter at your answer. He floats a little closer to you, and you suck a breath in through your teeth, "If the talentless nobody promises to give me her due reverence, maybe I can promise to behave myself.”

“What, do you want me to get on my knees and beg?”

A visible shiver runs through him, and his smile turns wide and syrupy, “Maybe.” "O-oh.” You reply, swallowing thickly as you rub your thighs together. You had been joking, but the deep heat in your belly makes it clear that neither of you is joking anymore, "As long as you can make time for me in your busy schedule, I’m sure that I can manage something.” The next exhale of his breath is dangerously close to being a moan, “Aha…I’ll make sure to pencil you in.”

#nagito komaeda #komaeda x reader #nagito x reader #komaeda nagito #nagito komaeda x reader #danganronpa x reader

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beerecordings · 11 months

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i have seen people put together some background canon info about the egos and their appearances over the years, which is awesome and a huge feat, but I just wanted to compile some popular headcanons and fanon interpretations that might be relevant if someone new was trying to get into the fandom, or even that we may see references for in new canon. it's our CULTURE okay??

Chase having two kids: when Sean released CHASE he announced that Chase canonically has/had one child, but in Chase's original video he referred to Stacy taking the "kids," which lead to the popular interpretation that Chase had two young children. you might still see this around

Henrik's backstory: likewise, Sean used to make occasional references to Henrik having an ex-wife and possibly kids. some people consider this canon and others don't, because it was just in random gameplay vids, but you might see it referenced

Anti is a turtle: an OG ego meme. when Anti says "I am eternal" in Say Goodbye, it sounds like "I am a turtle." Sean saw this and reacted to it in a vid, and now there are occasional turtle references

Queer egos: obviously this is tumblr and queer headcanons abound. in my experience, the most popular interpretations include Jackie being trans and Marvin being mlm. you will see this frequently in the fandom

JJ's mutism: JJ first appears in a silent video with captions like an old-time movie, but Sean didn't confirm that he has mutism until later, and also incorporated British Sign Language in his most recent video. older portrayals of JJ - or less inclusive ones - might not feature his mutism. additionally you may encounter a variety of magical or practical aids to help him communicate. oh, and you might also hear JJ called Dapper Jack - we were the ones who named him Jameson Jackson!

Eye color: throughout the years the glitches that suggested Jack might be making ego content frequently featured changes in his eye color. Sean has had brown, green, pure black, and mismatched eyes on different occasions. it's unknown if these correspond to particular egos, but Anti has appeared with green, blue, and black most frequently

Henrik being tortured for nine months: after Henrik was attacked by Anti during a video, Jack posted a bloodied postcard depicting a beach in Germany. this lead to the popular conception that Henrik was taken by Anti and may have been tortured by him. the length of time between seeing him again was nine months

Jack in a coma: this is more canon than fanon, but we've been saying that Jack's been in a coma for years and years now, pretty much since Anti first got his hands on him. Jack later had a voiceover in a video where Chase told Jack he needs him to wake up.

shipping: some of the most popular ships include Marvin/Jackie and Chase/Henrik. you'll also see some Darkiplier/Anti. although the egos all look the same, there's no canon suggestion that any of them are related at this time.

friendships: Chase canonically refers to Jack as his friend, and the fact that Henrik tried to help save Jack has led to the popular conception that he and Chase at least know each other, and are possibly friends too. the others? no clue. oh except maybe probably Anti is holding JJ captive who knows

Phoenix Marvin: Jack once referred to Marvin as a phoenix from the ashes in a tumblr post and we all lost our minds about it. great motif. and of course he wears the cat mask, so you'll see a lot of Marvin with cats or being able to turn into a cat. his magical powers are not canon yet, so you'll see a huge variety, as well as magic or superpowers for other egos too

please feel free to add on to this!! I'm curious what would stand out to everyone else if they were trying to share the fanon with someone new

#jacksepticeye

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melissa-titanium · 3 months

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something is Wrong with mel since he's born. and it becomes unavoidably apparent by the time he's old enough to properly use soul magic... because he can't. all he can do is breathe fire, and his ability is so heightened because of a physical oddity among the titanium lineage that he manages to inherit, not because his magic is powerful. he's the only member of the titanium family to lack soul magic in the entirety of its recorded history.

his mother's reputation is blemished, with him being the stain, and she assures he acknowledges his fault. she still coddles him in moments of sobriety that catch mel offguard, and he never trusts anyone to be kind to him again after those moments. his father doesn't bother looking at him when he's seperated from mel's mother to rule the underground colonies. his older sister tries to help, but mel is too embittered by the fact that she has everything he doesn't to accept it. he chases away any dragons who wish to be his friends with his aggressive behaviorisms, believing he's proving to himself and the world that he was right all along because no one sticks with him in the end, believing that it was meant to be regardless of how good or bad he chose to behave.

he lives his entire childhood in a shroud of emotional solitude, channeling his accumulated rage into something he believes is worth trying to work at. if he can't do the things others around him can, then he'll be so good at the things he can do that it blows everyone else out of the water. he's doing this for attention, and he knows it, but he chooses instead to believe he's doing it for the sake of revealing the truth about the world to everyone around him. his mom won't look him in the eye, and he's fine with that -- it's always been the case anyways.

he's desensitized to death already, being raised in dragon society that still performs brutal executions on the regular does that. training comes easy to him, being gifted with incredible physical prowess and the determination to further those abilities bumped him up to the top of his class, as well as inflating his ego a great deal. he can do something, he can finally do something that others can't and he's overjoyed to let the world know.

so he does. he kills his classmate in cold blood, using techniques he had made himself to beat the dragon in aerial combat and leave their corpse mangled among the pointed stones below his resting-tower. he's not discreet, they find it, but he's such a good liar that everyone believes it was in self defense. they see, even after such a supposedly traumatic experience, he's raring to go.

he gets his wish -- his mother notices. he is allowed to participate in the awakening trials. he swallows his bitterness over the fact he's not even allowed to prove himself because they skip all of the soul-magic trials in favor of booting him to the last round, and for that he's grateful.

he completes his trial, a fight to the death against a crystal copy of himself. he is abhorblooded. no one knows what that means, not even mel. but he's finally got something of his own, something he alone can cherish. he's clawed his way to the top and can see the tips of the mountains grazing the clouds from above.

the ensuing eruption of chaos from the koboreals sends his mother into a frenzy, and he's forced into lockdown. a too-young koboreal with too-hot fire and too-bloodied claws for someone his age has gotten a power that no one in the kingdom has ever seen before, no one in recorded history has ever seen before. they fear him, his mother fears him, and even deep down some part of mel fears himself. the outrage is too great for him and he decides upon taking time to himself, away from the dragons who know too much.

he does unspeakable things, now free from the restraints of the dragons who feared him. smoke fills his head, whispering to him things that he swears are words, but he doesn't think too much about it, even when it clouds his vision too, turning it red with blood.

okay. i Dont know how to Finish thi.s im just having Mel Thoughts.

basically i think the reason seaskimrs in trout's era have weak magic is because of how magic has been dwindling. because the awakening trials are what channels the power of one's soul into their abilities, mel HAD no well to drink from... so he had to make a well of his own, which is where his vampirism comes from. he forces draco to get it too by manipulating her into performing the awakening trial, and by extension oryx. and over the course of this time, all of them have taken so much magic from so many souls that what TROUT does is LITERALLY SUCK MAGIC FROM PEOPLES SOULS UNINTENTIONALLY... but she already has so fucking much stored in her soul. and the gimmick with trout's era is that . BECAUSE their magic is so weak...they channel all of their soul power into a physical entity, usually a weapon, and bond themselves to that item.

and because trout's soul is so fucking full to the brim with magic, her weapon is near world-ending levels of destructive. instead of trout herself being able to shapeshift (also an abhorblooded gift,) her weapon is... and BECAUSE ITS APART OF HER SOUL... oryx can speak to her through it.

speaking of oryx, i think oryx being a doctor is funny because he's. got no magical abilities. so he does everything the old fashioned way (or rather new fashioned way because they always used healing magic until oryx came along) and has written dozens upon dozens of books that have helped countless of seaskimrs during trout's era.

ok. im done

#mel roars #headworld

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purplemninja · 5 months

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Little Nightmares hot takes

[Feel free to comment or reblog with hot takes of your own]

Someone on the LN subreddit asked for people's hot takes and I commented a bunch of spicy ones that I have, which I will copy and paste here (though the last one will have something added to it):

1- People who say that Mono is an uwu-softboi or portray him as such are awful and are doing him a disservice. Like, you can not look at his battle against the Thin Man and pretend that he's a pacifist, not to mention the other kills he made in-game. His fight against the Thin Man and moving the tower towards himself is his most badass moment and these rougher edges to him make him a much more interesting character. So by taking that away and acting like he wouldn't hurt a fly really doesn't do Mono's character and arc any favours, it just ruins it, so people have seriously got to stop thinking that he's a 'pwecious widdle angel' when he clearly isn't, especially when it hurts his character and story.

2- I'm pretty sure that people are expecting this one but the fandom needs to lay off Six, and way the fandom makes it so that Six must either be totally good or totally bad and is not allowed to be morally grey (in between) is so irritating. Just like with Mono, taking away Six's rough edges or smooth ones hurt her character and make her way less interesting. Also no surprise that I say this but the way that the anti-Six people treat her is so awful.

3- In addition to what I said about the golden child Mono stans in number 1, the way that the FNAF books treat Henry is very much like how the fandom treats Mono - only his suffering matters, screw everyone else. Or some go even stupider and treat all of the characters in LN except Six sort of in the same way that the FNAF books treat Henry, basically like "Six and her suffering? She should shut up and suck it up" or even going as far to say that she deserves her suffering. While just about all the other characters (Mono most especially) have their suffering dealt with a gentle hand.

4- I'm pretty sure this is ghost-pepper level spicy but it's so dumb that the fandom claims that Roger is nice. Like bruh, he literally has blood stains on his vest, chases kids, you can hear one that he catches whimpering as he takes them away, wraps them up to be taken to the kitchen, and there's a bloody guillotine in vicinity. Just because he doesn't kill Six or RK on-screen means he's nice? What?

5- They should've made a LN2 DLC where you play the game as Six and get to see her perspective of everything that happened, especially that scene. Make them step out of their Mono/Thin Man tunnel vision and focus on Six and her suffering too for a change instead of making Mono's overshadow everything.

6- Six being the Lady would be disappointing AF and lazy that they're recycling Mono's fate. I'd be better off if Six was the next Lady and not the same one encountered in LN1, but I still prefer a different way for her story to go (or maybe make my new depressing interpretation of her ending (where she's not the lady but is still stranded at sea with no innocence or humanity left, making everything she went through all be for nothing in the end) the actual ending for her).

Plus, you're telling me that the remaining staff on the Maw (The Twin Chefs) were like "Oh, this kid that we tried to murder earlier is our boss now" and Six is like "Oh, I'm not going to kill these guys who tried to add me to the menu earlier. Plus I'll hire an exact copy of the Janitor and get a replacement for the one and only mirror I was able to fight the Lady with since it broke and try to board it up in the same room that I found it in. Yeah, it tooootaaaally would prevent another me from being able to get it in the exact same way that I did".

Not only that but they also put a child in charge of dealing with other business-related stuff on the Maw like shipments of coal and vegetables (or maybe someone else did that)? So stupid.

7- Runaway Kid's name is not seven!

8- The ridiculous double standards of self defence. Why are Mono and Runaway Kid allowed to defend themselves from monsters trying to kill them but Six isn't?

Mono - Smashes a bunch of bullies, pulls the trigger on the gun to shoot the Hunter, beats some living hands to death, probably burns the Doctor alive, kills some viewers by electrocuting them to death or luring them off of a ledge, and probably broke every bone in Thin Man's body before Thanos Snapping him.

Fandom - Eh.

RK - Electrocutes the Granny to death and disintegrates the Shadow Kids with his torch.

Fandom - Whatever

Six- Helps Mono shoot the same Hunter that kidnapped her and locked her in his basement (and she didn't take the gun off the hooks, Mono did), kills one bully after being kidnapped, tortured and hung upside down by them for who knows how long (which will eventually kill you), cuts off Roger's arms with a door when she was cornered, eats a rat when there's no other food nearby, eats a Nome instead of a sausage that she knows is made of human flesh, eats the Lady when there's no other food anywhere, and kills some guests who are reaching over to try and eat her on her way out of the Maw.

Fandom - Monster.

Now, I'm not saying that what Six did was good or what the boys did was evil, but people have to stop acting like it's okay for one character to kill to save their own lives but not the other.

9- This stems more from a certain artist that I won't name to avoid people going to harass them, but on top of the self defence standards, people also have to stop with the double standards of bad things happening to a character due to another character's actions. What I mean with this is that while yes, Mono had no way of knowing that Thin Man was behind the door and getting Six kidnapped by him was a mistake, that does not, however, undo the fact that Six still got kidnapped or that her kidnapping is not that big a deal all because it was an accident on Mono's part. Especially when people won't give Six the same leniency when it comes to Mono becoming the Thin Man. Six had no way of knowing that Mono would survive the fall, let alone him being stuck in a room on a chair for decades and turning into the Thin Man, yet that is a big deal despite her not knowing but her kidnapping isn't because it's also an accident?

And lastly,

10- Another ghost-pepper level spicy but AUs where Six pulls Mono up yet all the suffering she has to go through before that is 100% the same as in-game makes her a way, waaaayyyy better person than Mono. This goes double for AUs where Six realises that he's the Thin Man (you know, her kidnapper and tormentor) but decides to pull him up anyway. Like, Mono as Thin Man decides to kidnap and torture an innocent version of Six, cursing her with the hunger and making the child Mono have to torture her to save her, but Six decides to pull him up despite all of the pain he put her through. Even more so when she realises that he is her kidnapper. That makes her a much better person that him. Though it also makes her kind of spineless. I'm not saying that she should drop him, but in-game the player can abuse Six in some ways (running when holding her hand, which makes her stumble, throwing stuff at her, bash her with weapons (even if they don't do anything to her) getting her to fall off of stuff (yes, she respawns or teleports, but still), blinding her with the torch) but not once does Six retaliate until Mono attacks the music box, making her a bit of a doormat TBH. Yet some people in the fandom portray Mono as the doormat instead, it's like the fandom goes out of its way to get Mono and Six as backwards as possible.

Additionally, fan content where Mono doesn't apologise for getting Six kidnapped in the first place, or torturing her during his fight against her monster self makes him a huge jerk. Like, this girl has to suffer because of his actions (unintentional, perhaps. But as I said, that doesn't make the pain Six suffered go away or not matter) and he doesn't even have the decency to at least say sorry for the hurt he caused her? It pleases me whenever there's fan content where he does apologise, because not being sorry for hurting Six makes him a huge jerk.

It's long, but those are my hot takes.

#little nightmares #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares six #little nightmares mono #rambles #rant #hot takes #discussion #text post #little nightmares hot takes

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eddiemunson-reader-shame · 12 days

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Eddie Munson x MKUltra!Reader: Something About Us

I wanted to write something for MKUltra!Experiment! Reader in an attempt to make a more non binary option for readers.

The storyline was inspired by Interstella 5555, which is a visual companion to Daft Punk’s Discovery album. The scene is from “Something About Us”, which I highly recommend watching for the visual effects and story. I believe Interstella itself is available to watch free on YouTube these days.

I’d like to explore more of this character in the future, so let me know if you’d like to see more of the storyline I have in mind.

Trigger Warnings: Main character death, blood, spoilers for Season 4

***

This time… he didn’t run away…

And you tried to help…

What a fool…

You approached slowly, exhausted. Limping from the pain of battle and just as chewed up as the love of your life was. It didn’t look good for him: flattened on the ground, bleeding from the mouth and monster-made orifices.

Dustin looked at you, tears in his eyes as Eddie, his friend, the one he saw as a brother, told him weakly that he loved him.

“Thirteen…” Dustin whispered, “He… He isn’t going to make it… Do something.”

I know… you thought bitterly. Neither am I.

At the end of the day, you knew you weren’t your “sister”. You wanted to help, but what good was your power when all it could do was show rather than do.

You gently but firmly pushed Dustin Henderson aside, reaching out to stroke his chubby cheek. A wet streak of sanguine ran down the pale baby fat, marked by your shaking fingers.

You had a mission. One last declaration to make that you were saving for Eddie.

Eddie Munson coughed. Dribbles of wine colored life running down the corners of his mouth as your beloved looked at you through wet, dark eyes.

“Baby…” he whispered, calling the name he’d given you.

To everyone else, you were Thirteen. A connection to their Eleven. In their eyes, a replacement.

But to Eddie… you were more than that.

I know, Eddie… don’t talk…

You took his hands in yours, resting your forehead against his. This was what you’d come here for. Dragged yourself with the last of your strength, sheer force of mind propelling you forward and to his side. Even though the demobats had taken chunks, you kept going. Pressing on with one mission:

You wanted to make the Pictures for him. Just one last time.

And he knew.

“Pi… pic…”

A bloody finger pressed to his lips.

Shhh… don’t talk. Just let me show you…

You leaned in closer, sharing the last of his breath, closing your eyes. Focusing the last spark of energy. Manipulating the pictures that vividly danced across your imagination. It had taken time. Had taken expertise and five long years to hone.

But Eddie had fine tuned it. His words and beautiful way with linguistics had inspired your imagination, and with his weaving of words you learned to make your own Pictures. No longer were you a surveillance camera forced to document everything and see horrors beyond recognition. You were no longer Papa’s camcorder. You could make your own worlds, your own Pictures of beauty and magic to chase away the dark.

And you wanted to show this beauty to Eddie. Your beloved. Your savior. Just as he’d shown it to you, one on one, playing dice games on the worn out coffee table of the Munson trailer.

Your castle…

You pressed his cold hands to your forehead, eyes opening, irises milky white.

Instead of the Upside Down, your Pictures washed over the landscape, with his touch you showed him how your surroundings in your mind were an elven paradise. No longer twisted, dark blue, or deadly poison. Instead you showed him Pictures of Greyhawk, the worlds he’d described to you from the depths of his vivid dream-like imagination. You used your Pictures to show him grassland dales, the City of Splendors, rivulets of starlight that marked the Astral Plane, dragons soaring through the clouds with red leathery wings cutting through the soft fluff of white against a blue sky…

One last visual burst of color, one last moment of respite to show him that you loved him. You would always love him.

Just one last moment of happiness before the end came to take the both of you.

You hoped he saw it… before he hissed out one final breath, and before your eyes closed forever…

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x oc #stranger things reader insert #dustin henderson #eleven hopper #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson fandom #guys I fucking love interstella okay #Spotify

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sandeoki · 2 years

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His to protect pt. 3

summary: Y/N a hero, loved and respected by all. Seonghwa a villain, feared and frowned upon by all. both have been enemies ever since they can remember but what happens if Y/N appears at Seonghwa's doorstep at the middle of the night, all bloody and bruised?

t.w: graphic violence, yandere!seonghwa, mention of murder, torture, manipulation, etc.

taglist: @atinyreads

<pt.4>

after giving her the medicines and making sure she finished her dinner seonghwa tucked y/n to bed (and gave her a goodnight kiss as it heals the wounds faster. his words not mine.)

it had been a week since y/n crashed at his place half dead and he had already tracked those officers down with the help of his gang. all that was left to do now was putting bullets into their head or even better, torturing them.

he would start by taking them to a secluded forest. then, he'll slowly carve their skin with a blunt knife and then he'll let them free.

he'll watch them run around the forest, trying to save their lives, just like his y/n had to. he'll let them think they escaped and then he will catch them again.

oh how lovely it would be to watch the relief fade from their eyes as they realize there is no escape. he will tie their legs to his bike with a rope and drag them back to the middle of the forest.

dragging their bodies with his zooming bike. once they reach there, the real fun will begin. he'll give them an offer, they have to kill each other, the last one to survive will be free.

he will watch them fight, act like the monsters they are, tear each other to shreds and then when only one is left, he'll free the one.

free them from this torture by putting a bullet in their skull. only then his revenge will be complete. only then his y/n will be avenged.

after carrying out his plan, seonghwa returned home to deliver the good news to his hero. she wouldnt have to worry about those officers ever again!

just as his hand reached the doorknob, a thought flashed in his head. if he tells y/n that her tormentors are no more, then what other reason will he have to keep her with him?

her wounds are nearly healed and the ones chasing her are dead. she would be free to leave once she is well.

"no no no, this cant happen. this wont happen. i wont allow it to happen"

seonghwa didnt realize he was rambling now. he had been pacing in front of her room, mumbling about how he couldnt let go for the past hour.

it was starting to drive him crazy. he was losing his cool. no, he cant let her go. he cant. he wont. those people dont deserve her. only he deserves her.

they harmed her once and they'll do it again. only he can keep her safe. only him. no one else. he had to prevent her from going outside, but how?

just then an idea struck him. he knows that those men died, but y/n doesnt. she doesnt need to know. she doesnt know whats good for her anyways.

if he tells her, she'll ask to leave. he'll just have to lie to her then. a little lie never hurts anyone, right? he's just protecting her, right?

of course he is, he knows best. he knows what good for her. he has to lie in order to keep her safe. in order to keep her with him .

y/n broke down after hearing what he had to say. she couldnt believe it. how could they do this to her?

she still couldnt wrap her head around the fact that the officers managed to convince everyone, including her family, that she was the bad guy.

she was hysterical. how could the people she spent all her youth protecting go against her, it broke her.

the people she considered her loved ones, her parents, her friends, her guardians, all believed some government officers over her.

she wouldnt have believed it if someone else had told her this. but this was seonghwa, why would he lie to her.

he may be her enemy but he took care of her, nursed her back to health, what reason does he have to lie to her. she believed him.

knowing that the people she adored hated her, crushed her soul. all she could do was cry in seonghwa's arms as he pet her head, consoling her.

"its okay, little hero, im here now. i wont let them hurt you again. no one will even dare touch a single hair on your head. i will never leave you. never "

if only she could see that sinister grin on his face as he pulled her closer...

#ateez yandere #che.rry ateez #ateez x reader #ateez #park seonghwa #yandere! seonghwa #hero x villain #villain! seonghwa #ateez imagines #ateez fic

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chronotsr · 5 months

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No. 2 - G2, The Glacial Rift of the Frost Giant Jarl (July 1978)

Author(s): Gary Gygax Artist(s): Erol Otus, Dave C. Sutherland III, David A. Trampier (cover) Level range: Average of 9, preferably 5+ players Theme: Standard Swords and Sorcery Major re-releases: G1-3 Against the Giants, GDQ1-7 Queen of the Spiders, Against the Giants: The Liberation of Geoff, Dungeon #199, Tales from the Yawning Portal

On the heels of being more impressed with G1 than I expected, will G2 be similarly impressing? Time to find out!

The intro blurb is mostly a repeat of the text of G1, including admonitions that running stock is for villains. Our motivation remains: figure out why the hill giants did that, no matter how fucking dangerous it is. Interestingly, the other main objective of G1 (give 'em a bloody nose) is not relevant here, because that teleport means that the frost giants aren't a threat to the villagers themselves. In fact, the room teleportation schtick kind of means G2 is filler? Like, the big reveal that the G series leads to the D series is not really impacted by the events of G2. So, oops!

Conveniently, the magical chain teleports out outside the rift so you can once again have a secret cave HQ. I feel like you have a responsibility as a GM to have a giant counterattack to at least one of these caves.

I really like the imagery of the descent into the rift here. I mean, I don't think this illustration really does it justice, imagining the deep blue color of light barely passing through the ice and how that gives the area beneath the surface an eerie oceanic glow at all times other than noon -- that's some good vibes. Gary opts for green, which is a fair enough choice. Unfortunately, Gary is more interested in simulating the mounting climbing than vibes, which means that at least one of your party members is going to fall face first into the snow drift below. Gary "generously" caps the damage at 10d6 (avg 35 dmg) -- a level 9 fighter, to be clear, has 9d10 hp (avg 45 hp) and a level 9 magic user has 9d4 hp (avg 23), so that's not ideal. Also recall that you recover 1hp per full day of rest normally, so if you fall and survive you're probably still fucked unless your cleric has a lot of spells left. I'm also pretty sure your cave HQ is above the cliff face, so, risking the descent seems like suicide to me. You're going to lose people and even leaving to heal them back up is simply taking another chance at oblivion. Take the stairs.

If you have the audacity to slow fall down, you will be blown 75ft off course in a random direction. Very cool Gary!

Another interesting detail: monsters in classic DND have a pretty short attention span and will lose you fairly quickly if you flee around a corner. This is particularly amped up here to a breezy 4 in 6 odds of success, due to blizzards blocking chase.

Anyway, we're into the room by room, so let's do some room by room shit.

There is a kind "spiked heads of our enemies at the gates" situation, with corpses mutilated and frozen in transparent ice as a warning to not intrude. Honestly that's badass. What's not badass is if the players have the wherewithal to try and free the corpses (for loot or kindness), most routes lead to the treasure being destroyed and the roof collapsing -- probably instantly killing your squishies.

The hill giants from G1 are lolling about waiting for an audience, so points for continuity. I have to imagine they're freezing their asses off, though.

There are yetis here? Which, going on the graphic and the listed intelligence score in the MonMan, I have to conclude are sentient bipedial apes but like, NOT like the Frost Giants. Actually apparently the average yeti is smarter than the average frost giant, so I guess it's a Diogenes situation where they choose to live in a shitty cave when everyone else has a nice cave?

The 5 hill giants visiting the Jarl have 1k to 6k gold fur cloaks, which like. Imagine a 6,000 gold cloak. Not only is it got to be huge (Hill Giants are 10.5ft tall), for it to be worth 6k to a vendor that's got to be a one-piece fabric cloak off a particularly rare and good condition animal. I guess the players could use it as the world's fanciest comforter?

The official appearance of a Remoraz! These are awful creatures. They swallow you whole and then superheat their insides to cook you. Nasty side effect: its outsides become furnace-hot and destroy nonmagical items and burn people to death. Look at this horrible thing! And of course it's guarding the swankiest loot to date -- a +2 Giantslaying Sword and a 3 Wishes Ring. It's been a weird trend lately that the best loot is, not owned by the leader of the Giants? The best hoard seems to always belong to Some Guy. Naturally this awesome loot "sinks into the ice" if you use a fireball, because this adventure has an addiction to telling the wizard to fuck off. Note that the sword being lost punishes the fighter for the magic users' decision. Note also that the Remoraz going into superheat mode doesn't do the same thing? It sucks. This clause sucks. Cut it. The actual room itself is kind of neat, the implication is that the Remorhaz melted a spherical hole into the ice to make a den, which is awesome.

Another iconic Garyism: ". They have had audience with the Jarl, and after a special wassail to be held on the morrow they will depart for home with a treaty scroll." Translation: They're goin to have a drinking party tomorrow to celebrate a treaty signing.

And like, one room later, we get "leman", which means lover, and "durance vile", which means long imprisonment. The text implies that basically, she's a hot butch storm giantess being held in chains until she agrees to fuck the Jarl. Gary, simply ask a tall woman out. You don't have to be weird about it.

Rather than torches, the feast hall is lit with jarred fire beetles, which is kinda cute

There is a thick iron bar that "transports whosoever is standing on the floor to the entrance of Snurre's Hall [G3]". The iron bar is a lever, obviously, but is this a lever-operated teleporter? An elevator that goes straight down? G3 eliminates the elevator theory, since apparently you can arrive here via pegasus and there are caves one can access overhead. So it's a literal teleporter, and at least how I'm reading it makes it sound more science fiction than magic. Weird.

On the whole, G2 is a massive step down from G1. G2 lacks the factionalism of G1, punishes players for damn near anything attempted, and is broadly less imaginative than G1. It's a pity, really, because it's a far more interesting locale on paper, but the reality is that you could generate a cave like this by scribbling randomly. Meh. Next time we poke G3, and hope hope hope that it's more like G1 than G2.

#1e #chronotsr #dnd #dungeons and dragons #tsr #ttrpg #adnd

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cat-mentality · 9 months

Text

There is always a warning before they come.

A shiver rinning down everyone's spine as if the air suddently grows colder, the sky darkens a little bit, the stars dim themselves, the sun get hidden behind heavy clouds, the The Watcher's voice ressonates inside their heads, laughing.

There is a warning and then they are set free.

Not every day of course, they have other things to do, it wouldn't do for them to have all the fun, The Watcher explains with mirth. But that is somehow worse.

They can never predict when they will come, when surviving will depend on how well they can hide, in how well they can bargain.

They always seek Panda first.

Their leader always stands waiting at the entrance of their base, welcomes them with smiles and jokes and good natured banter. He will ask, some days, if they want to fight with him, most of the time they will agree, shedding powerful armor and enchanted weapons like it's nothing, like nothing matters.

The three will laugh as they slash at each other with vicious energy, the rest of the team waits inside holding their breaths, clutching their weapons, but outside there is only the sound of laughter and banter. The winner doesn't really matter, most of the time the three of them will end up dead.

The visits are not long, they have places to be after all, missions to complete, people to hunt, but in those moments Team Panda can catch glimpses of humanity in the skin of killers, they can see who they could have been once, can see humor and love when they cling to their leader, when they offer him gas masks and food, when they embrace him as a friend. When they mostly leave them alone for respect for their friend, how there is still loyalty and kindness somewhere behind the bloodlust.

They have never killed him outside of their silly little fights. They never will.

After they start hunting.

Team Squirrel hides, every time. Deep underground, exploring the caves and the mines, searching for a place to be safe, even if for a few moments.

It's a game, a sick twisted game of hide and seek as the man with the bloodied lips has said many times, laughing like they are sharing a joke. It's a rigged game, they all know, but one they cannot help but play every time.

Hiding is futile. Fighting even more so.

They always come with smiles, like they are greeting old friends, like the killing is a mercy, like the little games they play are fair. They ask them to kill each other, the life of a teammate for yours. Team Squirrel refuses to participate over and over again, loyal to each other even when facing the devil himself.

The other teams are not as interesting to them, not on such a personal level.

They will stop to talk to them, weapons hidden, faces free of the gas masks, offering chances of survival, willing to listen to the pleas before deciding whose blood they will spill. They will bargain survival for ridiculous items they do not need, use random questions to determine who lives and who dies, play games that make no sense, asks for them to do things that have no meaning.

They are madness made flesh.

Their eyes empty, blank, even as their lips are twisted into smiles, even as they laugh and laugh while spilling their blood, while chasing them just for the fun of the hunt.

The prey, made predator.

Fighting them is the worst thing to be done, they learned quickly.

Hurting one of them is a fire proof way of sending the other into a frenzy, empty eyes consumed by a rage so profound it is enough to freeze anyone, hands clenched around a weapon, eyes wide as a whirlwind of rage and madness throws itself into you with the sole mission of inflicting pain. A wrong word, a look too sharp, and the sound of the chainsaw will ring louder than ever, a wrong gesture, a sharp tone, and a knife will glisten into the light.

They only leave when the floor is drenched in blood.

They usually leave Team Raccoon for last.

They have nothing against them truth be told, no more than they have against anyone else, but their leader is a sore spot, a special target, to be savored, to be made an example and a warning.

No betrayal hurts more than the one who comes from a friend.

They leave the others alone, mostly. They want their leader and as long as they give them his location there is no point into playing with them. They will find them, no matter where they have hidden themselves this time and there is quiet resignation on their faces when they inevitably show up, usually by destroying a piece of their walls or roofs, the sound of a chainsaw defeaning, the gas masks familiar in their strangeness.

There is almost fondness there, in a twisted bloody unhealthy way, in the way Team Racoon is familiar with the madness that surrounds their killers, how they have gotten used to the feeling of a chainsaw cutting away at their flesh, of the coldness of a blade slashing at them, how their laughter eachoes even after they have left, how they will take some minutes to talk sometimes, how they stand in their base, covered in the blood of others and compliment their tea farm or ask about how they are doing, sometimes even sparing them food or gear.

There is no formal warning for when they leave. But they can feel it, how the air gets lighter, the light returning to the sky, the sounds of the chainsaw and the screams fading to nothing.

But they cannot relax.

They know that something worse is lurking, laughing at their misery.

#qpurgatory 2 #qsmp cellbit #qsmp baghera #qsmp writing #team racoon #team panda #if you see grammatical mistakes: no you don't #i wrote this on mobile and it's a bitch to properly correct

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crowhyun · 1 year

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Level Infinity; Chapter 11

Losses are a tragic part of everyone's lives, but only in the real world could they be mended. One too many tragic losses send each poor soul into extremely new situations.

Chapter Genres: Horror, ANGST

Series Genres: Horror, Angst, Drama, Romance, Smut, Gore

Warnings: Gore, Angst Heavy, kind of a lot goes on, so buckle up :DD

Words: 4k

Main Characters: (Y/N) (reader), Soobin (TXT), Mark (NCT), Beomgyu (TXT), Taehyun (TXT), Arin (NOT from OH MY GIRL, character was made by a lovely follower), Huening Kai (TXT)

A large hand wrapped around your wrist, tight and strong as steel, slim fingers holding onto you with the determination to never let go. In a desperate scream for help, you held on tightly, eyes shut, trying to block out the impending danger behind you and the cries in front of you. What was once a blessing was now a curse, and it was as if you were trapped in between heaven and hell, wondering if you could leave a part of yourself in both if it meant you got to live.

You didn't dare to turn around, even if you could. The wings behind you almost served as a barrier to the horrors that ran your way. What felt like hours was only a few seconds, as if this treacherous world only wanted you to feel the pain for even longer than you've endured.

Opening your eyes, you made eye contact with Soobin, tears flowing down his face, an image that you hoped to never see again. It was as if this exact event had happened before, but this time, Soobin was determined to save you, to stay by your side until neither of you could take it anymore. No one else knew what to do, no one else had any more hope, but could you blame them? The blessing of your wings was now a curse, and it was something that you were going to pay for.

Mustering up all of the strength he had, Soobin pulled you in towards him, nearly yanking your arm out of its socket.

"Soobin, stop!" You heard, but you couldn't tell who it was, and neither could Soobin. It was as if the two of you were in your own little dark world. Not letting go of you, Soobin leaped towards you, wrapping his arms around you in a...hug? A last attempt to bring you to him?

Mark panicked, not wanting to possibly lose two of his friends in a tragic event, so he lunged forward, grabbing onto Soobin, and pulling him back in a surprise show of strength. But, Mark didn't realize just how tightly Soobin was holding on to you, as it was a grip as strong as the resentment that Soobin felt for not being able to save you the first time the both of you were in this predicament, but he knew...he was going to be your hero this time, and the both of you were going to make it out alive, even if you lost something big along the way.

It only happened in a few seconds, but with the strength of the two men pulling you inside of the building, your wings could no longer endure the pressure building against the metal frame of the doorway, and a searing pain pierced through your whole body as each metallic feather fell onto the ground, one by one, leading to your wings ripping free from your back and falling limp and lifeless onto the ground. You fell into the building, falling onto the floor and you blacked out from the immense pain and trauma, worried cries falling upon deaf ears. There was no type of magical healing that could keep you from feeling every bit of pain that coursed through you, and you couldn't even fathom the thought of being alive for much longer.

Soobin watched in fear as your bloodied metal wings rested on the floor outside of the door behind you, and the noise of the monsters chasing you died down. No one ever saw what the monsters looked like, or exactly how close or far away they were from you, but they were gone now. Mirroring your dejected wings, you lay on the floor, barely breathing and eyes closed. Your heart rattled your bones, trying hard to keep you alive, but you had no more hope left.

"(Y/N)?" Soobin called out to you, voice hoarse and cracking. He was so scared. Scared that you'd die, and what made him feel worse was that he was scared if you lived. It was his fault, everything was. You were strong, he knew that, you would've found a way to save both yourself and your wings, but he let his selfish desires get in the way, and in an effort to keep you by his side, he tore something away from you. You'd hate him forever now. It should've been him. He was better off dead anyway, all he did was hold everyone back.

"She's losing blood-" Mark said, rushing to get inside of his tattered bag for anything to help.

"I have bandages," Arin said, taking them out of her bag and throwing them over to Mark. He bent down, grimacing at your wounds, hands shaking.

"It's okay, (Y/N), I got you." Mark whispered to you, but you could barely make out what anyone was saying, eyelids heavy and ready to just let go. "You'll make it. I know you will. You're stronger than anyone else here..."

"Is...is there even any use?" Beomgyu spoke, and everyone looked at him. "I mean...look at us. There's so much more to go, so many levels to go through, barely any of us will make it in the end, if we're being honest."

"Gyu?" Taehyun furrowed his brows.

"No, seriously. Where even are we right now? How do any of you know we're safe enough to be here?" Beomgyu huffed out. He was worried, you all were. Goosebumps plagued everyone's skin, your hearts were beating a mile a minute, and...you guys were just standing there? He checked the back of his hand for any idea of where you guys were. "Level 609. Does anyone have an idea of where we are?"

"Beomgyu, to be so honest with you, right now, I do not give a fuck." Mark grunted, working to wrap your torso with the bandages, albeit messily, as he had no experience. "My priorities are set on making sure (Y/N) is going to make it. I could care less if we all die right here, right now, but if we die together, that's all that matters."

"Don't...don't make it seem like I don't care about her." Beomgyu said. "She's my best friend, we've been best friends since we were in diapers. But don't think any of us are going to make it out if we just keep getting hurt along the way."

Mark sighed, finished with the bandages, and he looked up at Beomgyu. "My main goal was never to make it out of here. I don't know if that's even possible. But, I am here to help, because someone helped me, and I'd be damned to leave that someone behind."

Your world started to return to you, eyesight clearing up just a smidgen. You coughed, groaning at the pain received just from that.

"(Y/N)!" Soobin exclaimed, bending down to face you. He was too scared to touch you, afraid that he'd hurt you even more. "Are you alright?" Of course you weren't alright. Why would he even ask you that?

The tight compression from the bandages made your wound hurt only a bit less, but it was enough to have you return to your senses. Hopefully, your wounds would heal as much as your leg healed, but you didn't know if that could even be possible.

"Where...where are we?" You asked, coughing out your words.

"Level 609...but I have no idea what's on this level." Mark said. "Would you be able to stand?"

You lifted your head slowly, looking up at your surroundings with blurry vision. It was dark, but you could still see, and it looked like you were in a neighborhood community center of some sort. The entranceway had barely any furniture, but there was a large and colorful mural on the wall of a...clown?

You then realized that you didn't answer Mark's question. "Oh, uh...I c-could try." You said. You weren't ready to go just yet, and you weren't going to make this stop you. Despite only having the wings since you got here, you still felt empty. It was like there was always something inside of you that was ready to unleash itself whenever it deemed necessary. It had a life of its own, and now it was gone. You looked back at the open doors behind you, staring at your lifeless wings. It was like an old friend had died, and that hurt more than the pain in your back.

You closed your eyes and looked forward, not bearing to continue seeing your lost wings. With all of the strength you could muster up, you started to lift yourself off of the floor. The strain on your muscles made you cry out in pain, and Mark rushed to help you up.

"I got it." You said, shrugging him off of you, and standing up on your own.

"A-are you sure?" He asked, holding his hands out, just in case you were to fall. You didn't feel too worried, your legs were completely fine, why would you be? You didn't dare to stand straight or to move around too much, and even if you didn't want it to show, you knew it was going to be a problem. Everyone knew that.

You noticed how Soobin remained behind Mark, avoiding eye contact, but you didn't know why. Looking at Beomgyu, he acted the same way. Yeonjun looked the most worried you've ever seen him, and it was a surprise, given his...history.

"You'll be fine, (Y/N)." He suddenly said as he noticed you were looking at him, frowning. "Suck it up."

"Don't be so soft, Yeonjun." Arin said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, then turning her attention to the wings behind you. "Things happen for a reason. They might not be much help along the way, but what matters is that you're still here."

"Hm." You hummed, a permanent frown on your face. "Let's just not worry about me. We can't sit here any longer." Looking at the back of your bloodied hand, you see the number 609. You had no idea what to expect. You assumed that you were in some type of arcade of sorts, but the menacing look in that clown's eyes told you that you weren't going to have any fun.

"Does anyone know anything about level 609?" Taehyun asked, looking between Beomgyu and Mark.

"Uh..." Beomgyu cleared his throat. "The games I've played haven't delved this far into the backrooms."

"This is where my knowledge ends, unfortunately." Mark frowned. "Let's just stick together, and if any of us sees anything off, make sure we all know. (Y/N)...you okay to go?"

"Yes, Mark." You said with a bit of venom. "Stop asking me if I'm okay. I'm still standing, I'm alive, aren't I? So, let's not loiter around where we could possibly be killed in a split second."

Your slight outburst made Soobin want to crawl in a hole and rot there until his inevitable end. This was his fault, and you were angry at him, but instead of taking it out on him, you took it out on everyone else, right? You thought he was too weak and sensitive to handle it if you snapped at him, that must be what you assumed. But he couldn't find it in himself to prove that assumption wrong, and that's why he was just a burden to you.

"Okay, sorry." Mark said, brows furrowed. He understood where your annoyance came from, and he felt guilty at that moment for his slight frustration with you. He was only making sure you were okay, because he wouldn't know what to do if your pain got the best of you.

Yeonjun brought out his flashlight, flickering it on and pointing it towards the dark hallway ahead of you guys. "Let's not waste anymore time."

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

Why were your feet wet? Looking down at the uncomfortable sensation of your wet socks, you noticed a thin sheet of water flooding the area around you as if there were leaky pipes running through the walls. Was it there before? You didn't remember the wet floors when you started this trek through level 609.

Yeonjun was ahead of everyone else, but still close enough to not cause any alarm. With a confused appearance, he shone the flashlight on the wall of the hallway, revealing the words, "DON'T LAUGH" painted in a cheery yellow. A shutter went down your spine, also reminding you of the pain from your ejected wings.

By now, the wet footsteps would've alerted any entities if you were there, but, weirdly enough, it seemed pretty empty.

"What the hell does any of this mean?" Yeonjun grumbled.

"Walking straight isn't helping." Arin said. "First rule that I've learned since being here: take any and all turns that you can."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Mark asked. "Some turns and entranceways lead to immediate death."

"That always depends. There's no absolute way that you could really know, but I've apparently been doing a good job, since I'm still here." Arin shrugged with a smile. "Let's turn there, Yeonjun." She pointed ahead at a turn into another hallway, and once walking a few steps ahead, Yeonjun shone his flashlight in that direction, then stopped, eyes going wide. Upon seeing his face, Arin's smile slowly dropped. "...Yeonjun?" Being met with a few more seconds of silence, she gently pushed past Mark in front of her to see what Yeonjun saw.

You saw her face drop even more, and her eyes widen. Whatever it was that they saw, they've never seen it before, and it wasn't dangerous enough to attack immediately. You had hoped to any higher entity that what was in that hallway wasn't a smiler.

"What is it?" You whispered. Arin gulped.

"We should probably not go that way." She said. Annoyed with the mysteriousness, you went yourself to go take a look. Right at the end of the hall was a clown. Not a fake clown or a scary clown, but a clown with a bright yellow smile painted on its face, and a rather joyful jester outfit on. It was staring right back at you, eyes blinking, but face nearly frozen.

"Is that...a person, or...?" You spoke. You didn't feel afraid, you were just confused. The clown moved, and you gulped. With a little audience watching, the clown did a silly dance, which, out of everything, seemed to scare you the most.

"I think it's trying to make us laugh." Beomgyu said.

"Would it kill us if we don't laugh?" Arin asked.

"The wall...it said not to laugh." Yeonjun replied, eyes still stuck on the clown who hasn't ceased in its dancing. After a few more seconds, he tore his eyes away from it, looking at everyone else. "It doesn't seem to be dangerous. If we get closer, we could test the waters and maybe even walk past it."

"Are you sure about that?" A low, quiet voice spoke, and you realized that you haven't heard Soobin speak in a long time. "Are we making risks to know more about the level, or are we making risks to get to the next one?"

"Both can't exist at the same time?" Yeonjun asked, eyes lidded in annoyance.

"He makes a good point." Mark said, receiving a death glare from Yeonjun. "A-and so do you, but...let's just make risks to get to the next level for now."

"So, we're still going this way." Yeonjun said. "If anyone doesn't want to follow, you don't have to." And with that, Yeonjun started his way down the hall, getting closer and closer to the clown. Each one of you followed without a trace. With every step closer, Yeonjun slowly pulled out the gun from his bag, and you slowly noticed how the water was now at your ankles. Did the water rise with time or does the water get higher at certain places in the level? That, you didn't know.

Yeonjun was now about two feet away from the clown, yet the clown was still dancing. With just enough space to get past the clown, each one of you slowly passed it, the clown turning to keep facing you guys as you passed it. When you were able to pass it next, you noticed its eyes. They were blue, with little specks of brown littering the perimeter. You noticed how its iris's very slightly jiggled, and how pupils dilated upon making eye contact with you. Your heart nearly stopped, as you felt a sudden wave of devastation. It was like...a real, conscious person was trapped in the body of a joyful clown, and inside of that body, the person was screaming for help, and you saw it all in its eyes.

Not wanting to see anymore, you shut your eyes tight, quickly passing him, and daring not to look at the clown for much longer. You wondered if anyone else saw what you saw, but no one seemed as devastated as you were. Shaking your head to try and get the image of sorrowful eyes out of the forefront of your mind, you continued along with everyone else.

"Guess it won't hurt us after all." Arin said. "Good call, Yeonjun. Everybody in for making any and all turns, now?"

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

This level was simply heart-wrenching. How could anyone feel like laughing when passing by the numerous clowns who were screaming for help upon deaf ears?

The "joyful" clown wasn't the only clown the seven of you came across. Along your way, more showed up, harmless to the body but harmful to the soul. You still wondered if anyone looked into their eyes and noticed the pain, or if it was only you.

"What does this level even mean?" Beomgyu said. "The clowns are slightly creepy, but they won't hurt us, and there's absolutely no clue on how to get out of here."

"Well, that seems to be a running theme across all of the levels." Mark said. "The second part, I mean. There's never a clue on how to get out, most of the time, we've just gone to the next level by accident."

"That is true..." Beomgyu said.

Yeonjun huffed aggressively, shining his light on two more clowns blocking the hallway. He wasn't the only one annoyed, as you felt the water start to creep up to your knees, now.

"This might be a little late, but does no one else notice how high the water is getting?" You asked.

"You know, that is such a valid question, why is the water getting-" Arin started, but was interrupted by Yeonjun's frustrated grumbling.

"Now, they're just getting annoying," he said, flickering the flashlight on and off as if to get the clowns' attention. "Do something else other than dance, at this point." Successfully getting the clowns' attention, they turned their heads towards us, one's face painted with a sad expression, and the other with a shocked expression.

In the midst of his annoyed blinking of the flashlight, the flashlight suddenly turned off, and it went nearly pitch black dark, and only silence was heard.

"Did the battery run out?" You asked quickly, now scared. "Hyun, don't you have another one in your bag?"

"Uh, yeah, one second." He said, and you heard shuffling around as he tried to find his way into his bag in the dark, but then the flashlight suddenly turned back on with a click, and you whipped your head over to Yeonjun.

"Um, what was that...?" You trailed off upon seeing Yeonjun's wounded face. "...Yeonjun?"

He was staring at the clowns, hands slightly shaking. Looking back at everyone else, you wondered what had happened. Yeonjun slowly walked closer, feet staggering through the water, knees struggling to keep him up through what seemed to be his extreme shock.

"Ch...Changbin?" Yeonjun whispered, voice weak. "Wooyoung?"

You blinked. Did he know them? Who was Changbin? Who was Wooyoung? And why did Yeonjun look as if he had just lost something important to him. His breathing was harsh, and his eyes were wide, yet you noticed his waterline swell with...tears?

Slowly looking over to the clowns, you looked into their eyes, seeing an array of emotions, strong enough to make even you feel their pain. Panic, sadness, the agonizing longing to be heard, to be saved. You didn't dare move as Yeonjun got even closer, looking them in their eyes. He seemed to have finally noticed what was going on beyond the surface of their painted faces. His knuckles turned white, hands now shaking more noticeably.

What you didn't expect was the raspy sob that ripped from his throat, followed by a distressed cry, echoing throughout the hall. He doubled down, knees locking as he fell into the water, the only visible part of him being from his chest and up. He couldn't hold himself up for any longer, but his eyes didn't leave the clowns. Sobs echoed against the walls, enough to shred a weak soul apart.

Although the clowns were screaming in distress on the inside, their bodies started to move, as if they were controlled by a master puppeteer, and they started to...dance. Their smiles were wide as they jived around as if they were celebrating and having fun.

The more they danced, the more Yeonjun's face fell, slowly becoming emotionless despite the red in his eyes and the tears down his cheeks. The flashlight shone from under the water, the rays moving along with the ripples and waves the clowns made with their dancing.

No one spoke. No one moved. You could barely breathe in the air around you as you watched them dance. It was almost...mesmerizing. The look in their eyes didn't change, a drastic contrast to their joyful faces.

Nearing the end of their little performance, they started to form a heart together, both of them looking straight at Yeonjun. Their shaking arms came to a stop, of their heart pointed to Yeonjun, and as a finishing touch, a tear slowly streamed down the shocked clown's face, rolling over its wide smile.

Softly, this time, Yeonjun sobbed, eyes not leaving the clowns, although his vision was terribly blurred. Mixing in with his sobs, though, was what you thought was a slightly quiet chuckle.

Or...not what you thought...what it really was. Yeonjun was laughing. A broken smile appeared across his face as he laughed, his back slightly shaking with every breathy giggle that escaped his swollen lips.

The clowns' faces slowly fell, eyes wide and iris's shaking. Looking deep into their eyes, you could almost see the reflection of two people, trapped in a ball and unable to get out. They hanged their fists against the see through walls, and their screams fell upon deaf ears, as if they were warnings.

"Y-Yeonjun-" You shook, but he kept laughing. You panicked as you looked behind you at everyone else, wondering what the hell you were going to do, and wondering if they saw what happened at the extent that you did.

"The water's rising!" Soobin cried.

"Yeonjun!" Taehyun called out for him. You turned back around to see Yeonjun almost fully submerged into the water, and it was now rising quickly.

In a state of panic, and a last-minute feeling, you jumped out towards Yeonjun, grunting as you just now remembered your torn wings. Your back seared in pain, but you ignored it, reaching Yeonjun right before you the water completely submerged him. You had planned to pull him up and try to smack him out of it so that you all could quickly find a way out, but it was no use, and it was as if Yeonjun was tugging you down, under the water. It was way deeper than you thought, deeper than it possibly could be. The floor was right there, right?

With the both of you submerged under the water, you held your breath and looked up at what was the supposed to be the surface, but you were met with darkness. You looked around, eyes wide, trying to find everyone else, but they were...gone.

Your arms were still tightly wrapped around Yeonjun, and his eyes were closed. You didn't notice before, but he had passed out and now you just felt completely alone. Submerged in what seemed to be a deep and dark ocean, there was no one else around, and nothing left but emptiness. It was like you had fell into the pit that the victims of this level were pulled into, yet you had deeply hoped that you wouldn't turn into them.

Sad, sad clowns subjected to a tragic end with no way out. Meeting visitor after visitor and forced to collect their last bit of happiness before joining the heart wrenching waters of level 609.

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

SO, since it's been a while since I've posted a chapter, I want to remake my masterlist. If you'd like to be apart of the masterlist for any future chapters, please reblog and tell me in the tags! (also tell me your thoughts on this chapter, I LOVE to hear what readers have to say!!)

#txt #tomorrow x together #txt soobin #txt yeonjun #txt beomgyu #txt taehyun #txt huening kai #txt angst #txt smut #nct mark #level infinity #txt x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader

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perpetualcontrolleddrowning · 4 months

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Blackbonnet Soulmate AU - Part 19

The Nettles in the Garden Don't Go Away

JRaylin441

Summary: We're back, baby

Content Warnings: alcohol use as a destructive coping mechanism, violence, threat of gun violence, self-deprication. All pretty par for the course with this fic. Feel free to message me if you want any further details!

Read on AO3 (x)

Read Part 18 Here (x)

Read Part 10 Here (x)

Stede Bonnet, the Gentleman Pirate, sets off on his newest adventure on a summer day at sunset. He runs into the surf, the dinghy scraping along behind him, throws himself into the waves, and starts to build a life he’s actually properly excited to lead.

How strange, to be pursuing the things he wants while fully aware that the choices he is making are not hurting anyone else. To know that he gets to chase after this, and everyone that he cares about is going to be okay. Might even think fondly of him, knowing all that they know. Might even miss him.

This is not to say that people may not still be hurting, from choices he made back before he actually stepped up, took ownership of his actions, got his shit together.

It’s going to be okay. He’ll make his way back to Ed. They’ll talk it through, as a crew, as co-captains. Stede will apologize until he’s blue in the face and then they can go back to the lovely life they were starting to build for themselves. Sure, he fucked up. Stede has done nothing but fuck up every moment of his life.

But Ed. Ed is different. He’s so kind. Absolutely lovely. The first person to ever seem to actually understand what’s going on inside of Stede’s head. He’ll listen. He’ll empathize. He’ll take Stede back. They can be best friends again. They can be co-captains. They can be soulmates. Maybe, even, something more?

Stede doesn’t know what that would look like. He’s never taken the time to imagine a romantic relationship between two men. Probably because, as soon as he’d seen it as a possibility, it’s pretty much the only thing he’s been able to think about. Must have been self-protective. Can’t get anything else done when all he can think about is kissing Ed again. Waking up in the morning and seeing him there too. His dark hair spread across a pillow. Making breakfast in bed. Sitting in quiet companionship for hours. Gasping breath and warm skin. Playing games. Sailing and watching over the prow as the ocean flies by. Naming constellations and clouds until they have a language only the two of them can speak.

It’s all he can think about.

No wonder he had to keep this hidden from himself. None of this would have fit inside the box his father built for him. He would have suffocated, trying to squeeze all of this inside.

How awful that it took this long.

How wonderful, to have found it at all.

*~*~*

The Kraken is pacingpacingpacing. It wants to set something on fire, and it’s lucky that they’re coming up on another merchant ship, because otherwise it would have happily turned that on the crew, just to feel something.

The raid is bloody and frenzied. The Kraken wets its teeth with viscera, maims and slashes and doesn’t even look to see if it killed anyone. What does any of it fucking matter. The Kraken throws one of those flouncy, weak merchant sons over the side of the ship. Just to feel something. Just to exalt in the strain of muscles pushing against something struggling. Something fighting. Overpowering the resistance of someone else.

The rest of the crew is screaming around him. It’s all just ringing against The Kraken’s eardrums. Pushing it to higher, slavering heights. And still, it’s not enough. None of it is enough. He’s ruining these people’s lives and it’s all ringing hollow through him. A gong echoing in an empty room.

The Kraken raises its head to the sky, howls in impotent frustration. In the noise of battle, it’s hardly distinguishable from the screams of pain and terror.

The Kraken scrapes its knife along the gunwale, digging it in and adding resistance to every step, ripping it free to stab into the soft flesh of anyone who tries to approach. They could be friend or foe. None of it fucking matters. Besides, most of the crew has learned by now to keep their distance during the blood fury of a raid. After the first few times he stabbed Fang or Frenchie and left them crumpled on the deck, carried back over to their ship by the crew with the rest of the treasure.

Who even cares. Genuinely, who gives a single fucking shit about any of this?

Ed was raised by a monster. He’s had a monster inside of him his whole life.

But not even just inside him, is it? The Kraken isn’t some small part of him that comes out now and then. The Kraken fucking is him. Ed was just the bed sheet he pulled over its head. The mask he created to desperately try to deserve a place in this world.

It’s not Ed’s world. It’s The Kraken’s world. It’s about time he stopped trying to pretend like he’s worth anything more than this. This ripslashkillbleed of a raid.

They make it through the raid, and The Kraken doesn't even pay attention to whether or not they found something worth finding. What does any of this loot matter, when they won't be stopping to spend a cent of it? What use does a monster have for material goods, beyond building a hoard of wealth on which to sleep? What does Ed even need, other than more alcohol to keep him numbed out of his mind? And he can get drunk on the expensive shit just as easily as he could on the piss that comes at a dime a dozen.

He lets the crew handle it, decide what to keep and what to throw overboard.

The Kraken staggers its way back to his cabin and flops back down on the floor, onto the rank pile of blankets and pillows he's made into a nest. Why bother putting any more effort into this?

Why bother with any of it?

*~*~*

Stede starts to realize that things might be worse than he thought in the moment that he finds the majority of his crew marooned on an island in the middle of nowhere. It's near where they were captured by the British, but there's no trace of The Revenge.

The Swede sees Stede's approach and hurls himself into the surf, away from where it looks like Roach and Buttons have been chasing him. Stede gathers up the Swede and then paddles in closer so that he can check in. Get everyone on the same page.

It's Olu who lays it all out. He and Lucius have always been the ones most willing to sit down with Stede and explain things that everyone else seems to be able to understand on their own.

He tells Stede about Izzy limping in with a bloody bandage around his foot.

He tells Stede about all his fine things thrown overboard.

He tells Stede about the plan for a talent show, ending in half the crew sailing away without a word.

Stede has this dream that he's been starting to cobble together, from all the revelations of the past few weeks, from a lifetime of repressed desires. He's been picturing what it would be like to come back, sweep Edward off his feet, be the epic wandering romantic hero from all the books he used to read.

This is closer to what life has always been, and it's yanking that dream from Stede's fingertips and dashing it upon the rocks. Forcing him back into the stark reality of it all. Just because he's found this out about himself, that he is capable of the kind of love that could inspire sonnets, does not mean that he has stopped being Stede Bonnet.

But here is a difference: he's finally found something he's not willing to let go of quite so easily. Stede has always been fighting to fit into a mold that he didn't actually want. Hard work for a goal that he didn’t even want to achieve. Prior to this, the only thing he ever actually chased after was his dream of being a pirate.

But Ed. Edward. Captain Blackbeard. Stede is in love with him, and he didn't even know he was capable of feeling like this for another person. Honestly, he had accepted decades ago that people wrote about love in an exaggerated, over-the-top way for the sake of drama, not because anyone was actually capable of that level of overwhelming feeling.

He knows now just how wrong he was. Has known since long before that conversation with Mary, but now he finally has a word for it.

So no, he's not letting go this time.

Ed is upset. That's understandable. He's probably off destroying a thing or two and himself in the process. Because Stede was so caught up in his own panic that he didn't pause to think for a second about how to say goodbye in a way that wouldn't hurt everyone further. He goes through life and makes the same mistakes over and over and over.

He's going to fix it. Sure, Ed threw everything overboard. Sure, Stede's navigational skills will be stretched to their absolute limits to manage to track him across the open ocean.

None of it matters.

He's going to find Ed and apologize and confess all this love he didn't even know was bottled up inside of him. Ed doesn't have to accept it. He has every right to turn away, forget about Stede completely, piss on his boots.

But whatever he has to say, Stede is going to hear it face to face.

*~*~*

The days slip by. He's drunk most of the time. He stays up late into the night, when the rest of the crew has gone to sleep and there's only one other person up on watch.

It's easier, being awake then. No one to stare at him as he paces angry lines through all the hallways of the ship. Hard even for the one other awake person to see him, with all the kohl on his skin and black leather worn old enough not to creak.

He stays up late, paces around the deck, waits for the sun to rise. He's a snarling, furious thing. Wakes the crew up, bickers and threatens Izzy until they've decided on a course for the day.

Goes back to his quarters. Drinks until he falls asleep, the sunlight turning the backs of his eyelids red.

He's a nocturnal thing, these days, fully reversed from any lifecycle of the living. Either intoxicated, violent, or isolated.

He's a monster, a monster, a monster. What's the point in trying to deny any of that anymore? He tried to change into something different and Stede left without even putting in the time to say goodbye.

Must have been able to smell all the rot beneath his skin. The mud and shit ground underneath his fingernails.

Ed's always known it was there. Ever since that night in the rain with the rope, he's known what kind of thing he is. The kind of life he deserves.

He just thought, for a moment there, that Stede saw something different. That maybe he could be something different.

The Kraken rears its head again, draws Ed back under, drinks until there's not enough braincells to hold onto a thought.

It's better this way.

*~*~*

Stede didn't mean to blow up his relationship, exactly. He didn't mean to ruin the only good thing he had ever built. The real problem here is that he didn't even realize what he had while he was in the middle of it. How was he supposed to when he's never had anything like it to compare to?

Of course, he knew at the time that he liked being around Ed. That it felt good and made him happy. That wasn't a mystery. But that just felt like, maybe, a coincidence of being around someone that wonderful for so much time. Or the natural outcome of running away and being a pirate.

He had known he was happy and that he was chasing his dreams. It was heady, sure, but parts of it were also a burning, slow building joy. And he didn't even realize just how wonderful it was until he had already walked away and was trying to learn how to live without it.

Things are different, without Edward there to comment on life or tell him he's doing a good job or listen when he speaks. Stede needs to go out and beg for his good thing back. Not just because he desperately needs him back in his life and isn't sure how he could possibly carry on without, but also because he may have fucked up and hurt Ed too. That's the truly unacceptable part.

Stede is still trying to figure out a plan for all of this. He's going to work with his crew to make it happen. In the meantime, though, he has another tool at his disposal, that very few of them know about. He has a soulbond.

Not that he's ever properly figured out how the soulbond works. And Stede put quite a significant amount of effort into that, back when he was still a schoolboy.

Still. More information now, certainly. He thinks about all the things that have happened with the soulbond over the years. It's hard, only having one half of the information. The first time he remembers actually realizing that the gifts were from his soulmate was when he was getting all those scraps of fabric from Ed, just after the incident with James.

It had been such a comfort, then, waking up to something tied around his hand every morning and reminding him that, even if he didn't know who the person was, there was still one person on earth who had the potential to care about him. One person who would likely know and might even be disappointed if something bad were to happen to him. He had never dared to even begin to imagine someone like Ed.

All to say: Fabric tied around his hand. And, back then, there is no way Ed could have known that Stede needed something like that. Or who Stede even was. Or what was going on in his life. He likely wasn't even choosing to send the scraps.

After that, there had been little baubles and treasures. The whale paperweight. Some gems and maps and trinkets that Stede now realizes were likely from a raid. Little keepsakes from a life of piracy. Beautiful, joyful things that would sometimes bring Stede an immeasurable amount of comfort and would, other times, make his chest hurt so deeply that he didn't know how to even begin to look at them. To the point that sometimes he had to carry them to a box and hide them away before even opening his eyes and seeing what he was holding. Always something he desperately desired, not always something he could bear to look at head on, considering the cramped box Stede had lived in for most of his life.

Stede is starting to suspect, as well, that the knife that appeared in his hand when he was being hung by the Spanish was also a result of the soulbond. It seems that treasures only arrive when one of them is unconscious, whether that be through sleep or asphyxiation. The knife was certainly something he desperately needed in that moment. So, perhaps, need plays into it?

But, then, of course, there was the red handkerchief. The one that arrived while he was still home, trying to cram himself back into a box neither he nor anyone else wanted him in. He hadn't needed the red handkerchief then, not really. He was already in the process of figuring things out with Mary. He was already going to decide to go back to Ed.

So not just need.

It’s difficult to know what the bond was like on Ed’s end, considering they have never spoken of it. Stede knows that he used to watch his food or drink disappear right before his eyes, presumably traveling to wherever Ed was in the world. That never really happened the other way. Is that because Ed didn't want Stede to have his food or drink? Is that because Stede never needed someone else to provide food or drink?

The adventuring bag as well, the one that sparked all of this. Stede isn't even sure when that ended up in Ed's hands or what the situation would have been like. There are very few situations that would have made Stede willing to give up the bag. Do his intentions play into it at all? Does it matter that he was absolutely devastated when he found it had vanished?

He doesn't really have answers to any of it. It seems like intention and need maybe play into it at some level but don’t make all the decisions. The person receiving the gift needs to be unconscious. The other person can be awake or asleep. Sometimes the person would willingly give up the thing, other times it would not be something easy to give up. So, potentially, the person sending the gift doesn't get a chance to pick.

Ed likely wouldn't have chosen to send Stede the red handkerchief, considering how genuinely angry he seems to be about anything and everything related to Stede. Stede certainly did not willingly send over his leather bag. He also wasn't particularly eager to send over his food.

That said, Ed probably didn't want to send over his baubles and trinkets from his raids, before he even knew who Stede was. And, when they arrived, each and every gift set something aching inside Stede, but they were never something he would have thought or even known to ask for. They were things that he desperately craved, though, whether he knew it or not.

So. Something in the desires of the person receiving the gifts. Less to do with the desires of the person sending the gift. Maybe the thing the person needs but doesn't know that they need.

And that makes things tricky. Because he wants to send something to Ed, but he doesn't know what Ed needs in this moment, and it doesn't seem like he gets to make much of a choice about what he will be sending. If he's sending things at all.

That was a whole lot of thinking with very little to show for it. Which may as well be the summary of Stede's life.

*~*~*

The Kraken wakes up hungover, dizzy, and dehydrated in the rats’ nest of a pile of blankets and clothes it's made on the ground of its quarters. There's a perfectly good bed over in front of the window, but that was Stede's bed and there's no way he can make himself take it now.

So, instead, it's this. He usually just gets too fucked up to notice where he is going to sleep and then collapses into an exhausted heap wherever he's been. Wakes up with the mother of all headaches, not like it can't be cured with a little more of the hair of the dog that bit him.

The last time The Kraken went into a full drunken bender like this, he would wake up sprawled on the floor or the wood of a bar and find a plate of warm food and a cup of water within his reach. That's the kind of service he's become accustomed to in his life, when he starts down the path of really destroying his own body.

Once or twice, this time, he's woken up to a half-empty waterskin or a small portion of food. Nothing like the feasts of old. He doesn't know where Stede has gone. Did he just leave Ed? Or did he leave piracy entirely? From the things he's providing through the soulbond, it looks like it was just Ed, just the crew, just The Revenge. Ed knows the kind of fine-china teacups that would arrive for him if Stede had returned to living in the lap of luxury.

He's still being a pirate. Just not one that Ed gets to see. Not a pirate anywhere near where Ed could join him.

During previous benders, Ed would have gratefully knocked back the water and slammed down the food before returning to his drunken spiral. This time, he's about fucking done with taking anything Stede Bonnet is trying to dish out. The few times he has awoken to food or drink, he's opened the porthole and thrown it out into the waves, to founder and drown just like every other one of Stede Bonnet's beautiful things.

This afternoon, Ed does not wake up with a snack or a drink in front of him. At first, he thinks that he's made it through a night's rest without any unwelcome input from his wayward soulmate.

And then, as he's stumbling to his feet and scrubbing his hands over his face to get the gunk out of his fucking eyes and try to soothe some of the headache raging in his temples, Ed feels the rough drag of fabric over the bridge of his nose.

Pulling his hands away to look closer, he can see a long strip of dirty and sun-faded blue fabric wrapped and tied in a knot over the heart of his palm.

And that's, God, but he doesn't want to fucking think about any of this. Stede fucking Bonnet is coming back again to destroy every part of Ed's life. This fucking bond between them, stretching who knows how fucking far over the sea, ripping open any scab that tries to grow over the aching hole in Ed's chest.

He ripped his heart out without even noticing it, left it safe in Stede's hand, there on the moonlit deck while he spoke of fine things. If his fucking soulmate is going to send things, he may as well send the fucking heart back.

Not that The Kraken needs anything like a heart, really. When you think about it. Who cares about the manner in which it was lost? It can all add to the mystique. The Kraken, scourge of the high seas, who ripped his own beating heart from his chest and cast it away.

Let Stede do whatever he wants with the heart. It doesn't matter. It's gone now. Pulled bloody and raw from his chest and disconnected in every way. Stede can throw it overboard. Stede can crush it beneath his boot. It doesn't matter. It's been pulled out and written off already.

Ed knows some of the stories people tell about him. His head is made of smoke. He can disappear and reappear like the wind. His ship is followed by a fleet of bloodthirsty ghosts. He's done quite a bit of intentional work in developing those legends. The fuckeries, the leather, the candles in his beard.

What's one more legend on the pile? Captain Blackbeard, demon escaped from hell who ripped his own still-beating heart from his chest to keep anyone from being able to influence or bargain with him.

In fact, someone needs to summon Frenchie, the one who can sew. Because Ed's got a new idea for the fucking flag.

*~*~*

"I understand that this is not what you signed up for when you joined the crew of The Revenge. I promised you regular pay and adventure on the high seas. If you want to move on to a different crew, I would completely understand and would be more than willing to send you on your way with a glowing letter of introduction and recommendation for your next captain. You've been an absolutely essential part of this crew and I want to support you in whatever you determine would be the best move for your well-being in the next few years."

"Um, okay," stutters The Swede. "Thank you for the offer, but I can't go anywhere else right now, since we're on a beach without a ship and also I don't want to move to a different crew."

"Oh," Stede smiles, trying not to allow himself to get carried away with excitement. "Well obviously the offer would still be available once we're able to make our way back to port and there are other opportunities for employment."

"Are you kicking me out of the crew?" And the Swede is starting to panic now, and Stede is starting to panic, and the conversation is already falling apart.

"I mean, I certainly don't want you to leave. You're more than welcome to stay. But if you wanted to leave, I would understand, is what I'm trying to tell you."

"Can I please stay?"

"Of course, of course. You're a part of the crew of The Revenge, even if we don't currently have The Revenge to crew."

"Okay, okay. I'm just going to go now. If that's okay with you. But I'm still part of the crew, right?"

"Right, the Swede."

"Great, okay. Okay, goodbye Captain."

The Swede was sitting with Stede in a little side area of the beach, where Stede had managed to set up two benches made of driftwood, settled a few feet apart from each other and several hundred yards away from where the rest of the crew is currently working to argue about which direction they should be traveling next. As Stede watches now, the Swede runs across the hot sand and integrates himself back in among the rest of the crew, who turn to check on what could have made him so upset. Stede smiles awkwardly, because he can't think of any better way to respond, and raises his hand in a wave before gesturing for Roach to come talk to him for a moment.

Stede wants to spend the next year sitting in a room, writing love letters to Ed and focusing until he can find a way for him to wake up with them in his hand every morning.

But, unfortunately, that's not the only thing he's responsible for. Stede may have been an utter failure of an uninvolved father figure, but he really is working to change that. He has his crew around him, he's pulled them from where they were marooned, but they are still entirely without money and without transportation or options. He's spoken with each of them one-on-one, trying to give them the choice to leave or stay without having to go through the pressure of talking about that in front of the rest of the crew. No one has asked to leave yet.

Stede can still feel that light within him. It's still expanded to full lighthouse status. Hasn't stopped since the minute he started to understand a way that he could leave and have all of this again without anyone getting hurt. It's shining shining shining out of him, and what a responsibility this all is: building a life for himself when he's actually decided to care about what he wants and who is around him, rather than just joylessly working to jump through the hoops in front of him.

His crew is around him and he loves them, loves every single one of them, missed them like a limb while he was gone. But that is a heavy thing. A weight around his neck. Because they are all looking at him, waiting for him to have a plan that will take care of their needs.

You said you wanted to be Blackbeard. This is what it’s like.

Stede is starting to realize that he does not have many skills that help make a lot of money quickly, especially when he's given up the family fortune he always relied on.

What does that make him? A weak-hearted, lily-livered little rich boy, presumably. The same as he has always been. Except, actually, not even rich anymore. Just weak-hearted and lily-livered and spoiled to the point that he has no idea how to even begin to go about providing for himself without all the help he's received from generational wealth.

But, well, they're all looking at him. They're all trying to figure out what the plan is and they're waiting for Stede to say something.

So tighten up, man. Get it together, Baby Bonnet. It's time to step up and figure out how to solve this.

Stede decides to set a course for the Republic of Pirates. And, since they have no ship other than one dinghy, that starts with all of them setting off to walk through the woods.

*~*~*

"You told me you can sew," The Kraken growls, gesturing lazily with the gun in its grip. Frenchie takes one look at it and flinches away. Poor, soft thing from Stede's crew. He'll toughen up while he's here, but for now he's a cringing, anxious mess in front of Blackbeard.

"Yep, yes, that's right. Been sewing for ages."

"I need you to sew something for me," The Kraken snarls and Ed digs through the nasty pile of fabrics in his nest on the floor. There isn't anything left of Stede's finery, all thrown overboard and the memory of him along with it, but the crew has been running raids for days. It's not hard to find something bright red and fine. He'd use the handkerchief if he still had it, but Stede took that just like he took everything else and isn't that just fitting, when you think of the gaping hole in Ed's chest?

Frenchie stays silent, nodding his head like a marionette on a string and refusing to look away from his captain. Maybe he'll learn faster than Ed thought. Even so, better to put the fear of fucking God into him now than risk him running off and getting any ideas in his head later.

The Kraken saunters forward again, the gun still loose and dancing in his grip. The trick to being properly fucking intimidating with a gun is to not particularly care whether or not you accidentally shoot it. So what if Frenchie gets shot? There are more lackeys that would jump at the opportunity to work with Blackbeard. So what if Ed gets shot? Maybe he'll finally fucking feel something.

Frenchie is watching with careful, terrified eyes. The Kraken waits for a good long minute, lets the silence stretch into something awful and tense, far longer than anyone would want it to last, before he finally breaks it by throwing one of the bright red capes he's found toward him. Frenchie flinches back as it covers his line of sight for a moment but is calm and predictable in his motions when he reaches up to move it out of the way. Very interesting. Ed is starting to realize that he might need to be keeping a closer eye on this one. Or, more realistically, he needs to make sure Izzy is keeping a close enough eye on him.

"You're going to expand the flag. I want a heart at the end of the spear." The Kraken leans in even closer, making sure to unnerve Frenchie even more. "See where the skeleton guy is aiming? I want him to be stabbing a bright red heart."

"Yes, sir, Captain Blackbeard, sir," Frenchie says, clearly shifting his sitting position to make sure he's keeping the gun in his line of sight. The Kraken gives it a little bit of a wiggle, just to keep things exciting. A panicked, strained smile is spread across Frenchie's face. "Do you have a certain fabric that you want me to use for the extension."

The Kraken raises the gun, strokes the barrel of it across Frenchie's cheek, because he's about done being asked specific questions about this. He doesn't want to think about the flag or his heart or what it might be doing getting stabbed somewhere outside of his body. He wants Frenchie to understand exactly what he wants from this and to make it happen without bringing a single other question to him. Is that so much to ask?

"Just find something that matches, kay?" He infuses some false, chaotic brightness into his voice, leans in too close and relishes at the way Frenchie flinches back. How comforting, to be so feared now. How familiar, to be treated as the monster he and everyone else knows he is.

Frenchie makes a quiet little humming whimper of agreement and nods his head even faster. Ed steps back, moves out of his bubble, gives him back the personal space he is clearly oh so fucking desperate for. Who gives a shit anyway.

He stomps down the hallway, swings by the galley for another bottle or two of whatever alcohol Izzy's picked up from these raids. It's all strong as paint thinner and the same mysterious, ubiquitous brown. He pops the cork with his teeth and takes a long, burning swig to purify all the rotten putrefaction that's crawling up his chest.

That's fucking better.

*~*~*

They're making it to The Republic of Pirates with good time, all things considered. It's a long, hot trek and Oluwande and Black Pete are back to bickering even worse than they ever did when this all started. Stede knows it’s the heat and the physical exertion and the dehydration and the lack of food. It's a miracle anyone is managing to get along, and those two never managed it with a steady income, room, and board.

"I bet Lucius and Jim are taking the ship over as we speak. They're probably going to come sailing back to where we were. I’m telling you guys we shouldn't have left."

"They're not coming back, Pete. Shut up."

"They could be! I'm just sorry you don't believe in them as much as I do. They could do anything they set their minds to, and if everyone would just listen to me then we would be back on the ship in no time."

"Oh really," and Olu's voice is getting waspish and petty at this point. "They'll probably just go up against all of Blackbeard's crew all on their own, huh? Wasn't it you who was telling us just a few weeks ago about how impossible it is to beat any of them in a fight?"

"Well obviously I said all of that before we were in a situation like this. But they're going to come back-"

"Oh my God," Olu groans the words so that they interrupt and overpower Black Pete's. "We were all going to starve on that island and we need to get somewhere safe before we can try to go back and save Lucius and Jim and Frenchie."

"We wouldn't have starved if everyone would-"

"Oh really? Well then-"

"Hey guys!" Stede shouts over his shoulder, because they've all been walking in a messy line and Olu and Black Pete are on opposite sides of it and shouting their disagreements across the whole crew. It started with everyone listening in and exchanging scandalized faces, but it's never going to stop and Stede is getting so tired. "How about we remember to either say something nice or not say anything at all."

They're both on him, immediately, calling for him to justify his interruption, tell them which person is right in the first place, and Stede is so tired that he wants to lay down right there on the forest floor and stop moving until everyone has walked past him and the waves erode him away.

"How about," and he's straining his self-control to its very limits, trying to remember that all of this is his fault in the first place. He made the choices that got them all here, and it's completely understandable that the crew would be upset and easy to irritate. No one's fault but his own. "We all just keep quiet. Or we can play a game of I Spy. Black Pete, you go first."

They're resistant to it at first, but one of the many things Stede loves about his crew is the fact that they are willing to do something silly just for the fun of it, once you get them started. The game goes on for a few miles before it descends once more into bickering and Stede needs to interrupt all over again. It's fine. It's all fine. He just needs to make it to The Republic of Pirates.

*~*~*

Frenchie lets Izzy know when the flag is done, and Izzy stumps his way over to find Ed. He's rolling his eyes, small and furious and confused and in pain and frustrated with this whole endeavor. It's so easy to read every piece of that on him and Ed could kill him for it, the hypocrisy of it all. If no one else on the face of the earth was going to be happy at the return of The Kraken, at least Izzy was supposed to. Everyone else was supposed to leave and run screaming and terrified before Ed could ever delude himself for long enough to forget all the rotten, monstrous, blackened parts of himself.

Izzy, though, they're supposed to be a team in this. They made Blackbeard together.

But, well, that's the core of it, isn't it? Izzy wants Blackbeard, not The Kraken. They're so similar. Blackbeard is the bloodthirsty persona that he and Ed have made and touted all across the seven seas for the past few decades. That's part of the show, the part that everyone gets to see, when the performance is on and playing out. They built that together. That's what Izzy wanted back.

The Kraken, though, that's all Ed. That's been a part of him since long before he ever met Izzy. It was stupid to forget that. The Kraken is the awful, ruthless part of Ed that pushed his mother away, killed his father, held a knife to young Izzy's throat and kidnapped him from his home.

Sure, Izzy is the one person who ever seemed to move closer in response to The Kraken, when everyone else ran screaming. Well. Izzy and Stede, for just a little bit there, before he got tired of it all and left for something bigger and cleaner and better. But Izzy was the one who stayed. The one who somehow seemed to like it. The one sure thing.

It doesn't fucking matter. The Kraken is unpredictable and vicious to the point that it's impossible for them to consult on what their next fuckery might involve, or what the big strategy is. The strategy is that Ed is pissed the fuck off and he's going to burn the world down making it clear and maybe, if he's very lucky, he'll end up as a footnote at the end of Stede Bonnet's day, when he hears about what a disaster he left behind.

There's no consultation and there's no teamwork because The Kraken isn't a fucking team player. He's going to rip out the throat of every pissant who tries to tell him he's wrong and he's going to burn the corpses behind him and let them try to stop him. Let them try to tell him that he has to slow down, stop drinking, calm himself.

Ed stands on the deck and swigs his mystery liquor, feels it burning the taste buds off the surface of his tongue. Leaving him as ravaged on the inside as he feels. He watches in calm menace as Frenchie raises the flag up the mast. Watches in satisfaction as this new myth of Blackbeard is born: the man who ripped his own heart out of his chest and destroyed it. The man who can't be touched or known. The man who could love no one.

He clenches his hand tight around the bottle, takes another deep drink, refuses to read into any of this. Let someone else on this deck try to say a single fucking word about it. He'll kill them where they stand.

He clenches his hand tight around the bottle. He's wearing his leather gloves and trying to pretend that they aren't swelteringly hot and a frustrating barrier between himself and the rest of the world. He's trying not to let himself think for even a second about what it was like to live for a few weeks however he felt most comfortable. Dressing down a little, taking off the gloves, not having to sweat his ass off every minute in head-to-toe leathers. Of course, whenever he tries to not think about something it just makes it stronger and louder, and it's all he can think of now, sweat dripping from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet, uncomfortable and agonized and drunk in the summer sun.

He clenches his hand tight around the bottle. He watches the new flag wave bright and long in the wind, feels the leather press into his hand. He feels the strange press of a knot of fabric pressing into the dip of his palm. It's crammed under tight-fitting leather. That's what happens when you wear something leather for years. It starts to reform itself to fit exactly into the spaces you fill. Adding a strip of fabric tied into a knot shouldn't be that much of a difference, but it was effort and work to slip it over his hand and get it settled into place. Even now, every time he makes a fist or moves his hand, the leather moves and pulls in a different way than he's used to.

He could take it off. He should take it off. Cut that fucking shit off his hand and throw it out of the porthole along with everything else Stede has sent his way.

He's Blackbeard. He's a fucking killer, man. He ripped his own still-beating heart out of his chest and left it behind so that no one would ever be able to touch him again. He's made of smoke and mirrors and fuckery and rot. He doesn't need a soulmate and he doesn't even have the necessary anatomy to feel something as soft as love.

He's going to cut it off and get rid of it.

In just a minute.

He will.

*~*~*

"You got a lot of nerve, finding your way back into my bar, Genital Pirate."

Stede maybe should have stopped for a wash, meal, and nap between the time he got into The Republic of Pirates and ended up going to Spanish Jackie'z. He can see that now. Although, at the same time, he doesn't have any of the money to make that happen.

"Spanish Jackie, I would never want to disrespect your fine establishment-"

"Good," she cuts him off before he can get a full sentence into his sales pitch. "Then get the fuck out before you end up in my new nose jar. Since you ruined the old one." She's got a knife twirling between her fingers. All the other patrons of the bar are staring. Stede is so tired. He needs to make this work.

"I hear you, and I can leave in just a moment. But, before I go, I would be remiss if I didn't offer you the chance for me to help you remodel your bar."

"Get out." She's advancing on him with the knife in her hand. Some of the other patrons are standing up too, walking behind her, making it very clear that Stede is the outsider here and the island would be on Jackie's side unhesitatingly. As if Stede didn't already know that. He starts backing up anyway, hands raised in front of himself, begging for her to take the time to listen.

"Okay, so maybe you're not looking for that. And it's such a lovely place I can hardly blame you. But surely you need someone to scrub the floors. Or maybe someone to run errands for you. Deliver things. Carry messages. Organize your wardrobe." He trips and falls, because he's an idiot, and the only comfort at this point is the fact that he had several of his crew wait outside and only brought in Olu and Buttons, so only a small number of his crew will see his utter disgrace in this room.

He's on his back on the stairs leading down into Jackie'z. She's over him with a knife and Olu and Buttons are watching with dread from the sidelines. For so much of Stede's life before this moment, he would have laid there and accepted whatever fate wanted to deal out to him.

But now. He can't die yet. He doesn't want to die yet. Not before he's tracked Ed down and talked to him. Not until he's been able to explain himself and the choices he made. Not before he can confess his love and beg on bended knee for Ed to accept his apology.

Then, after that, the fates can do whatever they want. Ed could slit his throat right then and there and Stede would deserve it. He could turn Stede away and leave him to spend the rest of his life in the quiet joy of piracy and rock-solid certainty that he will never find anyone ever again who can understand him so well, who is so worthy of love, who shines so brilliantly in the endless drudgery of life.

He'll do it. He'll follow whatever it is that Ed tells him to do. That's what he deserves. He deserves some power, some control, the ability to sentence Stede however he sees fit.

"Please," it bursts out of his chest, wet with the tears on his cheeks, and it's all so embarrassing and ridiculous but that should really just be the subtitle of Stede's autobiography at this point. "I'll do anything. Anything you want. I need help and I can't think of where else to turn."

He's crying, because of course he is. Stede knows he's an ugly, flushed, sweaty crier, so he tries to pull himself together but it's only making it all worse. He knows this. He can't make it stop. Jackie towers over him. She's immaculately dressed. Her bar is full of patrons who seem quite happy with the set up. It's authentic and pirate-y and fine just as it is. She's got the island on her side and twenty husbands to hold her at night. She doesn't need anything that Stede has to offer. "Get the fuck out of my bar before my husbands kick your ass." And, well, Stede gets the fuck out. Presumably Olu and Buttons follow behind him. He doesn't slow down to check. He's doing what he can to get away from the sound of a group jeering in laughter. It's all a little too close to the way he felt as a young boy, running from people that clearly didn't need him, and why did he think that this would be different, now that he's gone and fallen in love and put even more of his vulnerability and soft innards on display?

He leaves.

*~*~*

The Kraken stands on the bow of the ship and relishes in the spray of summer ocean breeze on his face. It'll salt and crust his hair in great bushy waves and make him look one half as feral as he feels inside.

There's a ship on the horizon. Too far off to determine if it's a merchant ship, naval, another pirate. It doesn't matter. They're out here destroying anything that moves. He's not picky.

The Kraken gestures behind himself, calling for Izzy to notice the speck and direct the ship. The sails creak, the wind shifts, and they're on their way.

The Kraken leans into the wind, lets it howl through the hole ripped through the center of him, lets it set him to singing.

There's a piece of fabric wrapped around Ed's hand.

He's going to burn the fucking world down with him.

#ofmd #our flag means death #blackbonnet #ofmd ed #edward teach #blackbeard #gentlebeard #stede bonnet #blackbeard x stede #stedward #edward x stede #ofmd fic #soulmate au #my writing #nettles

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