#when the world leaders turn their blind eyes its time to follow and support the resistance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

n30n-allavita · 3 months ago

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To read ahead: https://www.wattpad.com/story/374748075?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=Neontolife]

//It’s also on Ao3

"Would you shut the hell up?!" A voice yelled at no one in particular. The group slowly quieting to look at the source of the voice. "We only have a few shots at this to not f*** it up. So either you pay attention or leave now because I will not be hauling any of your a**es more than I already have 'ta. Got it?"

------- Ebbot City, North Side at an old rusty plant shop. 38023, US -------

Time: 00:31 XX/XX/203X

Presumably the Present....code source.....Unknown

Weather: Stormy

The speaker snapped their eyes around the group. Making intense contact with each member to ensure none of them held any wariness for the task at hand. After seemingly finding nothing they sighed and began again, softer now that they didn't need to yell over anyone else. "Now, this is how I want this to go. I- 01-16000-- Will sneak in through the laundry exhaust to try and locate 00-1201 as fast as I can while 02-11--'s group will fall to the front to draw attention there as I'll have 03-215000 and 04-112000 will be on support to take out their systems. All others know their team leaders and will follow their instructions. As you all know if things go south- which it shouldn't I trust your leaders will fall into Plan Omega. Everything clear?"

Simple grunts and nods followed after their remarks.

"Good" The voice confirmed. "Now get into position. We don't have much time."

[[01 02 03 04 05 06 00(surface) oo(void) numbers based on when the character appears

each underground section is split into 3's

Hp number

lastly Lv ]]

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Present day...\

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7:32 am...\

Home. Or well it was about to be, whether I liked it or not. The muffled sounds of running feet along hardwood floors and loud conversations greeted my mind as its groggy engine began to hum. The gears turning as my thoughts got to work processing my surroundings without needing to needlessly blind myself. One.......two.....make that 4 pairs of feet running in the hall. If I knew anything they'd be told off for their commotion soon enough. Wait- my gears worked a bit harder as I recognized the voice that slowly got clear enough to understand.

"what have I said about running in the halls?! Especially on visitation days! Now hurry to your rooms and get dressed. I will not have you in your pajamas when our guests arrive- Henry!!! You put that down right now!" The voice I recognized to be our care takers. Better known as Ms. Moody to the kids due to her emotions constantly fluctuating. Her heels clicked down the hall presumably after Henry who no doubt had found something he shouldn't have. Perhaps security's boyplay magazine. The door to my room creaked open with the soft sounds of humming as someone began their day in the shared space.

I'll probably have to get up now...otherwise I risk a far more jarring wake up call within the next 10 minutes. So with much protest in my mind I begrudgingly opened my eyes. Although it was short lived as I clamped them shut as the blinding lights hit my dilated eyes a bit too fast for my liking. Pulling my blanket up over my face and easing my eyes open to slowly adapt to the world around me at my own pace. My side ached from being still too long, so my best remedy was to merely roll over and ease the blanket down as I let my eyes scan the room. The humming stopped before I truly could get into my thoughts though.

"You should get up. I know you're awake fruity." The sickeningly sweet voice called out. I couldn't stop the grimace from forming on my face from the nickname my sweet angel of a roommate chose to call me. "If you don't hurry you won't get any warm water for your shower. With today being Visitation, Moody is having everyone 'TiP tOp ShaPE'."

The small airy chuckle escaped my lips at his poor attempt at a Ms Moody impression. His voice was pretty close but his pre-puberty pitch was likely his only downfall. I slowly sat up and stretched out, groaning as my limbs felt like they stretched for miles. Hitting and soothing my every ache with slow satisfaction that came each morning. My absolute only reason for waking up at all. Besides food of course.

"Not sure why that should matter to me. I haven't been picked in all my time here and I doubt that'll suddenly change now." my voice surprised me slightly, deeper and scratchier than I remembered it being. But I'm sure that's nothing water couldn't fix in an instant. Finally I managed to get my legs to work and slide off my bed. A shiver crawling up my back as my barefeet came in contact with the ice below me labeled "the floor".

"Well never say never I suppose. Maybe we will finally be free of you by the end of the day." His response was far as he dug in their closet.

"hardy har har. With your luck I doubt it." I quipped. A hum was all I got in response so I took that as my que to get into the shower. Whoop de doo.

I usually loved showers but with the orphanages heater there was never a guarantee that your shower would love you back. Many of the kids held candy bets to see how long the last kids shower would stay warm. I typically enjoyed staying out of those, my candy being far too precious to simply bargain away. But watching the bets happen was pretty fun. The reigning winner nicknamed "Cavity" due to how much candy she had won against the other kids. She once even got one of the kitchen ladies to join in. That was by far the most entertaining match. But now it was my turn to face the timer that was the heater. What would my luck me today. The nozzle creaked as I turned it on. Swiftly I dropped my attire and jumped in, not willing to waste any of the hot water. Almost losing myself to the comforting warmth before the reminder of last time crossed my mind. The scream I let out from the cold water had me under scrutiny for almost a month! So with a brief slap to my cheeks- my face ones- my mind was snapped into the zone.

Let the race begin.

- D -

||1073 Words.||

#undertale au book #echotale book #EchoStretch #understretch #au undertale #au sans #au undyne #au frisk #au chara

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leonbloder · 11 months ago

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The Golden Threads of God's Glory

Condemned as a traitor for his opposition to Hitler, Father Alfred Delp, a Jesuit priest, wrote an Advent sermon in a Nazi prison shortly before he was hanged in 1945.

In this sermon, he addressed the need to faithfully bear witness to the transforming and radical power of the love of God, who became one of us in Jesus to show us for all time what God is really like.

Delp was writing in perhaps the most miserable circumstances about the glory and hope found in Advent if we actively join God in God's restorative work in the world.

Here is a line from his Advent sermon that absolutely lit me on fire:

Delp had a front-row seat to the rise of the Nazis in Germany both before and during WW2. He watched seemingly upright Christians, including scores of church leaders, not only stand idly by while the extremes of fascism ruled the day, but in most cases, they also supported it.

His Advent sermon was a primer on being Christian when the world is turned upside down. One of the passages of Scripture that he quoted is from Paul's letter to the Ephesians:

“Awake, sleeper, And arise from the dead, And Christ will shine on you.”

Delp also acknowledged that when we wake up from the slumber of a lack of conscience and the blind infatuation of Christian nationalism, we can finally look around us to see the actual state of our world or our lives.

We might wonder what we could do to improve any of it, which is why Delp's words are so poignant and pointed. Like "golden threads," the glory of God makes its way to us when we need it most if only we have eyes to see.

It's our task as Christians who live in the space of Advent to point out these threads, make them known, and help others see them, too.

Christian nationalism and fascism seem to go hand in hand. For those who want to see a "return" to Christian values mandated by law, fascism is often the most tempting vehicle for it.

And so they turn a blind eye to all that comes with a fascist regime, just as countless Germans did during the Nazi era.

Fascism finds a willing partner in Christians who fall for this temptation. Fascism tends to flourish when there is some sort of partnership with Religion, and there are always willing leaders who will all too easily carry the banner.

I find so much relevance in Delp's persuasive argument about the role of Christians during seasons of unrest. He declares that our job as followers of Jesus is to point to him and to fearlessly demonstrate that love wins.

Delp knew that he might die at any moment. He had been imprisoned for years, and even the war's end would not save him. In the 11th hour of the Nazi regime's ultimate demise, orders of execution were carried out against him and scores of other dissenters.

It's inspiring to think that even as he neared the end of his journey, Delp clung to the hope of Advent---that the dawn of a new world would shine, and all would see the threads of God's glory.

Let's each, in our way, strive to be the kind of followers of Jesus who spend the Advent season doing our best to point to light, hope, joy, and love.

Even though it might mean we're in the minority at times, we also ought to be speaking up and out about the ways Jesus is often eclipsed when Christians don't practice their faith the way they preach about it.

One of the main points of nearly every Epistle in the New Testament is to not let ourselves become assimilated by the Empire. There is always an Empire to resist, by the way.

Trust me on this: the Empire never likes it when people begin examining their faith, following Jesus more closely, and publicly sharing what they're discovering.

During this Advent season, let's raise our expectations about what God can do. Let's dedicate ourselves to sharing our God-sightings in the world around us.

Let's find the golden threads of God's glory here on earth and then tell the world about them. The presence of Christ in the world is not a story that was. Rather, it is a story that is and will be.

May you find your way through Advent with these words of hope and encouragement. May the grace and peace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all, now and forever. Amen.

#presbymusings #dailydevotion #leonbloder #dailydevo #dailydevotional #christian living #leon bloder #faith #spiritualgrowth #spirituality

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

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Humans are weird: Space Australia 2.0

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) Zepher VI is classified as a industrial world far past the gamma nebula along the border of the rimward expanse. Nearly every inch of its surface had been converted into industrial complexes, warehouses, refineries, and living quarters for the nearly 3.5 billion inhabitants until the entire planet was nothing but a giant city. The Thule people called Zepher VI their home, though many who currently lived there would never say such a thing with pride.

A hardy people, the Thule were a humanoid species in many ways similar humans and one could even mistake them for being one were it not for their hands. Instead of a single hand with five fingers, the Thule had five separate tentacles at the wrist that would wrap around themselves and could imitate hands if needed or a variety of other forms.

The first Thule settlers to Zepher VI were in fact penial colonists sent from their home worlds prisons when over population became increasingly problematic. As more and more prisoners were sent to the penial colony the wardens and administrators began finding insidious ways to profit off their correctional workforce; sometimes even going so far as to sell some prisoners off to private entities or corporations as a slave labor force.

Eventually the roles of wardens and administrators shifted and became governors and secretaries, but the shady practices continued. All space travel was controlled through the central authority and no one could leave the world without their permission. Entire new generations of Thule citizens were born and classified as criminals from the moment of their birth as being born on Zepher VI was made illegal, thus ensuring the planet's population would be forever bound to the world.

In such decerped settings it was more than common for sub cultures to form beneath the surface of the horrendous society of Zepher VI. Initially it was small groups, often several prisoners from the same assembly lines banding together for protection. Not long after it was the entire shift group banding together, the entire factory blocks, and then even entire sectors joining together.

A myriad of factions, territory, and history seethed beneath the surface and wared with each other for whatever control they could claim. The overseers were well aware of these events and were not blind to them; but as they saw it the scattered factions were always at each others throats leaving them unable to unify and become a credible threat to the central authority. That was until one year a new prisoner was brought to Zepher VI.

A prisoner whose crime paled in comparison to those around them.

A prisoner whose frail body made them the butt of jokes at every gathering.

A prisoner whose soft tone made them sound like a bird in a coal mine.

A prisoner who would one day inspire a planet wide revolution that would shock the Thule society for generations to come. A prisoner......who was human. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the rusting remains of district 3-13 the only sounds that could be heard were that of the wind sweeping through abandoned machine shops and the groans of rusting machinery.

Even on a mega city world such as Zepher VI it was not uncommon for large areas to become abandoned. When some districts were improved with technical improvements workers from surrounding districts would often pulled over and made to work in the advanced district. The surrounding districts would become increasingly run down and decerped and would remain as such until an overseer saw the need to improve a district and thus repeat the process all over again.

Through the rusting causeways and overpasses several hooded figures hurried. From building to building they darted, halting only when the leading figure stopped and cocked their head to the side every now and then. Even though the district had largely depopulated that did not mean it was entirely empty. As the group rounded a corner the lead held up a hand and motioned for the group to hide. The hooded figures dove into the shadows of nearby buildings just as a bright light came down the street.

A sensor drone passed over the area in a rotating motion as its search light ran up and down the streets. The figures dove even deeper into the shadows of their temporary refuge as the light reached ever closer to them. Just as it was about to reach one of them the sensor drone stopped and continued down the street resuming its search.

The figures rose from their hiding places and continued down the passageways with renewed fervor until finally they reached their destination inside the crumbling remains of a foundry.

Traveling deeper inside the foundry the group finally found a large metallic door near the basement level and pounded five times, then three times, and then six times. Creaking loudly the door then opened and the huddle group were ushered inside.

As Raphi removed his hood he took stock of those already present.

In the corner of the room he saw Multak and his metal breakers. They still wore their heat repelling suits and stood together facing outward. Metal breakers in general were some of the most paranoid of the Thule, but when you work with materials that could melt your flesh in a flash it came with the job. Multak wasn't the oldest of the metal workers, but he was built up as the largest and most muscular of them and under his watch accidental deaths had significantly dropped.

Opposite the metal workers were two different groups deep in a heated discussion. On one hand Raphi saw the threaders and their leader Jip, and the organic farmers and their leader Kelp. He couldn't hear them perfectly but from what Raphi could hear was that the Jip was expressing some displeasure over the lack of materials while Kelp was stating the threaders demands could not be met by their current livestock.

There were several other scatter groups in the basement but none of them had as much strength as the others, nor the member count to have enough influence to have an impact outside of their district.

Raphi and his group were known as the Saviors and handled all the medical needs for at least five different districts.

"We shouldn't be here."

Raphi turned as Lilt spoke, his eyes darting back and forth between the groups.

"You scare to easily brother, be calm." Hal's reply was calm but soft spoken.

Raphi had brought the brothers with him for their individual skill sets. Hal was strong and capable of holding his own in the event of violence, while Lilt was sharp minded and could make out the finer points.

When he first received the summons for the get together he wasn't sure what he was walking in to, but he knew that he'd need the brothers if he was going to come out of it in one piece.

"Which one of you called this?"

Raphi was drawn away from his thoughts by the cold voice of Multak.

When no one answered Multak slapped his knee and stood up. "If there is no answer, then there is no need to be here." He made to leave the room and his fellow metal breakers followed him but were stopped by a voice just before they reached the door.

"I am the one who gathered you." Multak turned as did everyone else at the voice and from the opposite side of the room a lone figure stepped out of the shadows. They were cloaked in a brown rag that looked like a patchwork of clothing held together by the thinnest string but any other features were well hidden beneath it.

"Who are you?" Raphi's said as he faced the newcomer, "And why does your voice sound strange?"

The stranger pulled over a crate and calmly sat down on it; the wood creaking underneath him.

"Who I am is of little importance compared to what I can offer." They said. "As for the voice, well;" they pulled back their hood and to everyone's surprise the speaker was not a Thule at all, "I am not from around here."

"I will not listen to alien filth!" Jip's tone was thick with disgust.

The human chuckled and raised his hands to Jip. "You don't even know what I have to offer. "

"A human has nothing to offer us." Despite their previous arguments Kelp seemed to at least agree with Jip on this and both made to leave.

"Even if what I have to offer is your freedom?"

Jip and Kelp stopped.

"You have a way off planet?" Raphi was surprised when he spoke before his mind could even catch up with him.

The human shook his head. "No, but I can help you take this world for your own."

It was a long silence before anyone spoke. The human's statement so confusing that it somehow shut down the mind of everyone present as easily as one would turn off a light. Hal broke that silence with his booming laughter.

"Why is this such a strange concept for you?"

The laughter died out once Hal saw how serious the human was.

"Because we are a penal colony." Lilt said as if pointing out the obvious.

"At one time you were," the human conceded, "but now your people cover this entire world with your industry; you are now no mere colony."

"The overseers have too much power." Multak spoke.

"Power is in the eye of the beholder my friend." The human countered.

He waved his arms around the gathered members. "If we are to talk of power, then I would say the people here in this room hold more power than any overseer or governor on this world."

He pointed at Multak. "Your metal breakers form the backbone of this world. You repair and forge everything needed to keep the machines running."

He turned to Jip and Kelp. "You both control the economic exports of this world that bring in its profit."

He then faced Raphi next. "And you, without you the health and well being of every soul in your district would be put into daily peril."

The assembled Thule seemed more emboldened now that the human had pointed out the differences. While they thought it over the human continued.

"Let me tell you a story; a story of my world from long long ago."

"There was once a great empire that dominated the seas of my world; whose grasp reached from one end of the globe to the other."

"Yet as you can imagine, it too eventually swelled with criminals and felons with no where to put them. So what did they do? They sent them to a far away land."

"Humans had penal colonies of their own?" Raphi asked, surprised to learn such a barbaric practice was not exclusive to his own people.

The human nodded. "They functioned in much a similar way to here."

He continued. "As time went on more and more convicts were sent to this colony until eventually there were more of them then the guards."

"What happened to this colony?" Lilt asked.

"Why, it gained its independence and became one of the leading nations of my world."

"A nation of criminals...respected?" Raphi couldn't believe his ears.

Again the human nodded. "What makes you think that your overseers or your governs are more deserving than you? He motioned to all those gathered. "Is there one among you that honestly believes that they are somehow superior to you?"

Multak smashed his fist into nearby barrels and sent them clanging across the floor.

"Those fat sacks of flesh would not last a minute in my forges."

The human approached him and looked up into his scorched face. "Then why do you think they are better than you?"

Multak leaned down and spoke each word slowly. "They.Are.Not.Better."

smiling, the human turned to Kelp and Jip. "And do you think that you are not capable of making this planet wealthy beyond the governors wildest visions?"

Jip seemed to take offense to that. "I could make in a month what that fat oaf makes in a year." Kelp didn't say anything but nodded in agreement.

Finally he turned to Raphi.

"And most importantly of all....do you think that your people do not deserve a better life than living off the scraps they give you to survive?"

Raphi had seen the worst of the overseers treatment come into his medical rooms. He had seen the neglect, the carelessness, the wonton disregard for basic life...

"They deserve...better."

The human placed his hand on Raphi's shoulder.

"Of course they do, and together all of us can make that vision a reality."

Multak scoffed. "I assume you have a plan then?

The human grinned. "I've one or two ideas that might work."

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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wannabemobwife · 3 years ago

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Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Dad!Mob!Tom x Mom!Mob!Reader

-Pairings: Tom Holland x Reader, Rosie Holland x Henry Osterfield, Rosie Holland x Linus Perry

-Warnings: References to sex, language, typos, sad thoughts, attempted suicide, vomiting

-Words: 4.4K

A/n: Thank you so mucg guys with all the live support. Finally done, yay, with part 1

Chapter 17: Blood is Thicker than Water

Words: 4.4K

Four years had passed and Rosie was the only one to stick around. Everything had changed. You and Tom were currently on your trip around the world. Traveling everywhere from Cuba to Greece. Taking in sights of the world.

Embarking on journey covering 3 continents and 10 countries so far. You had already visited the Taj Mahal in India, the Amalfi Coast for some sun, and Iceland just for the blue lagoon hot springs. You and Tom were having the time of your lives, it being the perfect distraction from everything back home.

Rosie was running the mob along with her new right hand and consigliere, Linus. Rosie had been taking on the mantle as the new leader of the Holland mob. Picking up where Parker left off. Trying to do him justice. Tom had helped her learn the ropes but she always had that fiery personality desired for a mob persona.

After four years, Rosie learned to embrace her grief instead of shoving it away, she began to visit Parker’s grave more and more. Tried to every week, but life got in the way. She would bring a new set of flowers to freshen up the old ones.

She knew today would be especially hard, every year it was impossible. Rosie could barely get through the day. Today was her 20th birthday, marking 4 years of celebrating without Parker.

Rosie and Henry’s relationship had grown into one full of misery. Trapped in a loveless relationship, but he was still her best friend. With just one look he would know what she was thinking.

Over the past couple years, Henry has been so obsessed with keeping her safe that it was driving her mad. Rosie understood that Henry didn’t want to lose her like he lost Parker, but Rosie ran a mob and danger followed her everywhere. They started drifting apart when everything happened with the Holland family, creating unfixable cracks in their foundation.

Lately, Rosie had been feeling someone watching her every move. Following her whenever she would be downtown. Feeling a presence she hasn’t felt in a while. Constantly shivering in fear, feeling as though she was observed. From then on, every move she made was calculated and thought out.

When Rosie first took on the mantle, she cleaned house. Eliminating those whose loyalty would always lie with Tom. Trying to affirm the fact that she was so much more than just Tom’s daughter. She had let William go and few others because she brought in Linus.

Even after starting her new regime, things have been a bit off, lately. She hasn’t been sleeping through the night. She’d jolt out of sleep, drenched in a cold sweat. Henry would be startled awake as well by her movement as move to comfort her.

“Roo, you okay?” Henry asked groggily, yawning a bit. Rosie gasping to catch her breath. Her dreams were supposed to be an escape but now they were doing more harm than good. “I don’t know. I keep having these dreams about Parker. Like he was trying to tell me something,” Rosie said, gathering her bearings. It wasn’t everyday she was visited by her deceased twin brother. “From beyond the grave?…Rosie, he’s gone,” Henry pondered. “I know, I just can’t shake this feeling. That he is… he’s.”

“What? Still alive? Honey, we buried him. You cried over him. If he was still alive don’t you think we would’ve shown his face by now. Wilson and Carter are gone, they have been for awhile now,” Henry explained, hoping it would bring her some solace. Henry wasn’t blind to the change in her demeanor, she did open up to him about being followed everywhere she went. “I guess you’re right. But my dreams feel so real,” Rosie whispered, lying back down. Ready to drift off into a deep sleep. One not tainted by the memory of Parker. “Go, back to sleep baby.” Henry said, he knew they would be getting up in a few hours anyway. Tomorrow was a very big day. Henry knew he and Rosie had been drifting but he was all set to give her the best birthday ever.

Henry had bought tickets for you and Tom to fly in for her birthday and stay for awhile. This time of year was hard for all of you but it wasn’t fair to Rosie. The day that is supposed to be about her has always been shared but now no one dared acknowledge it. It was just a reminder of what had been lost.

“Good morning, beautiful. Happy birthday,” Henry whispered, peppering her face in kisses as the morning sun shone through the curtains.

“Thank you,” Rosie sighed. Every year was a challenge. It got a little better every year but she knew she would never fully accept his absence.

“What do you have planned today?” Henry inquired, he was always one for big gestures. He absolutely hated that she no longer enjoyed her birthday.

As a kid she loved the idea of turning a year older, getting to grow up and getting loads of presents of course. You always made the priority of throwing the most perfect themed parties for Rosie and Parker. One year they had a pirate themed pool party with a treasure hunt and another a circus/carnival theme with fair games and a petting zoo. You loved going all out for their birthday. Just spoiling them in general.

Rosie and Parker, also Tom, can’t forget about him, made life worth living. You and Tom did everything for your kids, never wanting them to feel an ounce of sadness.

But the times had changed, you were no longer the mother to a son. It was just Rosie and you thanked God everyday that she was still there but your heart will forever be scarred.

Scars take forever to heal, sometimes never. There will never be a day when you don’t miss Parker or he doesn’t cross your mind. Everything you did from the moment he died was for him, in one way or another. You knew the grief would never stop but you hoped Rosie would one day be able to move on with life.

“You know…” Rosie murmured. “Oh yeah, say hi for me,” Henry nodded along remembering Rosie was going to spend the day next to her better half, Parker.

Rosie proceeded to get dressed and ready for the day. She wore a tight grey dress showing off the perfect curves of her body. And a pair of black high heels to complete her power woman ensemble. “Henry, you aren’t throwing me a party right? I really don’t want one,” Rosie inquired. Rosie would prefer to have all birthdays pass and wash away but she knew Henry wouldn’t allow that. At the most she would have a nice dinner with him and watch a movie.

“You’ll just wait to find out,” Henry grinned cheekily. In reality he was throwing her surprise party to help her find the joy in her birthday again.

“Henry seriously, not this year,” Rosie announced. “It’s never any year. You haven’t celebrated in 3 years. You need to get over this.”

“Get over what? The death of my twin brother?” Rosie asked, astounded at Henry’s previous statement. The nerve he had, wow.

“Roo, I’m sorry,” Henry tried to apologize but Rosie left in a huff.

“Talk later, Linus is waiting for me,” Rosie yelled, already walking out of the room. “Linus, you ready to go?” Rosie said, as she found him drinking coffee in her kitchen. He sat at the bar, legs dangling off the chair as she came down. “Yes, Roo,” he said, a little out of breath from taking the awe of her beauty.

“Please don’t call me that around Henry… What’s on the agenda?” Rosie asked Linus as she poured herself her own cup of coffee.

“Well, Shaw owes you 3 million and the deadline you gave him expired,” Linus explained, he knew Rosie hated having things held over her head. She would prefer to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

“Well then, let’s go pay him a visit. I could use a drink. Afterwards, can you drop me off at the cemetery?” “Of course, Roo,” Linus said. Rosie huffed in response, rolling her eyes at the name. Linus loved to get a rise out of Rosie. Her remarks to his comments were just a sign of their playful banter.Rosie’s relationship with Linus was complicated. They were partners, most of the time.

Rosie had gone really dark over the past years. There were days where she refused to get out of bed. Sitting in bed wasting the entire day away. Henry would come home from work and try his best to comfort her but after Parker he was just as lost as her. They lived in the same house but not truly together. Not as lovers, maybe as roommates.

All Rosie could feel were thoughts of hopelessness, desolation, and misery. Never being able to find that light at the end of the tunnel. She didn’t deserve to find it, thinking she was the one who pushed you and Tom away. Blaming herself for Parker. All these feelings and Henry wasn’t there, too busy with his own life.

One day, Rosie had gotten real low. Couldn’t find a way out so she went to the gun room grabbed the closest pistol, a bottle of scotch, a glass and sat in Tom’s office. She rested on Tom’s chair trying to find the will to end it all. To point the pistol and pull the trigger.

It would be so easy, the flick of a finger. No more pain. She tried not to think about everything she was giving up. Never seeing you or Tom again, or Henry. Never loving him again, if they ever did manage to find their way back to each others arms. Never experiencing the things that made life worth living.

All her thoughts were halted as Linus barged in. He stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the broken girl hold a gun unto her temple, its safety clicked off. The room was cold as an icy chill ran down his spine.

“Rosie, what are you doing!?!” Linus thundered, trying to stop her before she pulled the trigger. “I don’t know. I think I’m trying to end it all,” Rosie whispered as tears streamed down her face. Deep down she didn’t want to pull the trigger, she wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

“End what all? Your life?” Linus asked, trying to talk her off the metaphorical ledge. Something had to happen that pushed her to this point. Rosie had to be drowning and calling out for help but no one came. “No, it was never about killing myself. It was just about ending the pain and suffering,” she cried.

“Rosie, listen to me. There is so much more you have to live for. This will pass. Think about everything you are giving up.” Linus tried to appeal to the people she loved, you, Tom, and Henry. Losing Rosie would no longer make you a mother. How could Rosie take that away from you?

“I already have and it hasn’t, for 2 years. How do you know it will get any better?” Rosie begged for a true answer. She had been slumping around, letting the days pass her by as she stood silent, screaming non-vocally for help. Trapped in an asylum of misery. “I don’t. But I’ll be there to help you,” Linus exclaimed, giving her the truthful response she wanted. Rosie just needed to hear that she wasn’t alone in this world anymore. “No, you won’t. You’ll just leave like everyone else. Henry doesn’t love me anymore. My parents left. I’m all alone.” “Roo, you aren’t alone. Just hand me the gun and we can work this out. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here,” Linus pleaded. That was the first time he had used that nickname. The name had been reserved for only Henry, Parker and you. In that moment Rosie saw someone she missed so dearly in Linus, Parker. Parker was the only person who was 100% there for her. He was there to talk her off the ledge. He was there at her weakest and in a split second he was standing in front of her.

Rosie gave in, removing the gun from her temple, clicking the safety one and handing it over. She slowly stood up, coming over to Linus and collapsed in his arms. Rosie whispered a small “I missed you” as he held the broken girl. He was the only one who could pull her out. Not Henry, god she wished it was Henry. Linus understood her pain and didn’t try to fix everything.

Henry was the opposite. Constantly worrying about Rosie and trying to find a solution for everything. Things from the slightest backache to feelings of hopelessness. Rosie didn’t need fixing she just needed to be heard and Linus made sure she was. At Harmon’s, the bar was quite empty. Just Shaw and a few of his men. Shaw has borrowed money from Rosie to clear of a few charges. The Holland name had some pull in the legal community. Dating back to Dom’s days but Tom mostly laid down roots.

Linus entered first, firing two shots to take out Shaw’s capos. “Jesus Christ,” yelled Shaw as his protection thudded against the floor.

Rosie followed Linus in, making her presence known, “Shaw, you know I’m not a fan of people not staying true to their word. Do you have my money?”

“Rosie, doll. I paid you in full already. If this just your sad attempt to stir something up we can work this out another time. Shoo, let me finish my drink,” Shaw snickered. “Shaw, I know your games. You have 3 minutes to transfer my money right now. One for each million. I have Linus checking for a deposit of 3 million, make this simple and do it,” Rosie stated with an unchanging expression. “I need more time, that’s not enough. It’s all in separate accounts,” Shaw asserted, his voice starting to waver as he stared down the barrel of her pistol. “Well then, I’d hurry if I were you. Here’s your phone. Just wire the money… Starting now,” Rosie exclaimed as Linus devoted his stare to watch. Glancing at the seconds tick away.

“Fine, I’m going,” Shaw screamed, about to crack under the pressure.

“2 minutes left,” Linus chimed in. “Okay, I’m just inputing the dollar amount, it’s a lot of zeros.” Shaw tried to explain. He was about to lose his life because he was slow.

“50 secs.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6—“

“I’m done,” Shaw said, letting out the breath he was holding.

“That was fast but not fast enough,” Rosie whispered raising her gun square to the back of his head. Her finger slipped to the trigger and fired a shot.

BANG

“Wow, I didn’t think you actually kill him,” Linus said, impressed by her ruthlessness.

“He was getting on my nerves, besides he will never borrow money from me again if he is dead,” Rosie chuckled. “You know I found that really hot,” Linus whispered in her ear. “You always do.” Rosie grinned at his advances, trying to pull her close to his chest. “Hey, this can’t keep happening.”

“Oh, come on. You say that every time. I can’t hide my feelings for you anymore.”

“Well, you are going to have to. I was clear about what this was. So I’m going to ask you this once more time, what do you want?” “I want you.” “Well you can have me in the bathroom in 2 minutes.” “Roo, you’re too good to me,” Linus smirked, following her as she glided to the restroom.

Everything lasted about 30 mins. They were in and out in a flash. The bar now smelled of sex and a dead bodies. Linus was the first to finish, coming out of the bathroom looking disheveled as hell. Sporting the same juts had a quickie look. Linus went to pull the car around after fixing his hair in the mirror.

Linus would never be Henry and that was a good thing, Linus was different. By no circumstances was Rosie in love with Linus or will ever be in love with him, he was merely a distraction. Rosie knew her relationship with him was wrong but he made her feel alive once more.

Rosie emerged from bathroom breathing heavy, almost gasping for air, with sweat glistening on her chest. She straightened out her dress as combed down her hair. Stepping out of the doorway, the smell of a fresh rotting body hit her.

Rosie immediately turned around and lunged for the toilet. She had been in the business for 3 years and never before had her body reacted this way. She hurled into the toilet for a good ten minutes. Eventually bringing her head out of the toilet bowl to wipe off her mouth. The air was now coupled with sex, dead bodies and vomit. She was clueless to what forced her to keep her head in a toilet bowl.

After her nausea spell passed her, she had Linus drop her off near the cemetery. “Oh, you can drop me off here. I need something from the pharmacy anyways,”Rosie informed Linus. She was planning on picking up something for her stomach, it was very unlikely for her to throw up suddenly.

“Ok, Roo. Do you need a ride home?” Linus questioned.

“No, Jared is supposed to pick me up. Thank you,” Rosie exclaimed, getting out of the car. “Alright. Happy birthday by the way. Can I have a kiss goodbye?” “Thank you and no. I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah for the party,” Linus called out slowly driving away. “Wait! What did you say?” Rosie remarked but he was already long gone.

Rosie was mentally kicking herself, she didn’t have the willpower to deal with a party tonight. She specifically told Henry, not to throw one but since when did he listen to her.

Their road to ultimately heartbreak was a two way street. Both of them had done something to warrant the loveless relationship. Rosie admitted to herself, that she eventually did stop trying. She stopped constantly asking if Henry wanted to go out for dinner and what time he would be home. Rosie prefers to blame Henry but in reality, she was then one who let go first.

Rosie stopped showing him love, too distraught by his every move because it was a constant reminder her brother wasn’t there anymore. Henry would try to work him into every little conversation, remembering Parker in everything. It grew too much for Rosie. Rosie had never been one for confronting her feelings, preferring to shove them down but how could she, when Henry would never shut up about Parker.

Parker was the main reason a wedge had been driven between them, but she wouldn’t dream of blaming her dead brother. Who couldn’t even defend himself. Rosie needed a reset after Parker but Henry was stuck living in the past.

Rosie was ready to start her life with Henry after graduation but he couldn’t let go. After a while, Rosie became just like him. Stuck drifting into a void of pure sadness. Rosie couldn’t let go, along with Henry. Their lives went in different directions, Rosie was blossoming into a ruthless leader who would only act soft around Parker, vowing to visit his grave everyday. And Henry got left behind at some point, not seeing how he fit in her life anymore.

In the pharmacy she scanned the aisles for some sort of quick remedy. If Henry was throwing her a surprise party, one she specifically asked not for. Rosie didn’t have days to recuperate, maybe a few hours.

She found the largest bottle of Pepto-Bismol and stopped by the card aisle. Carefully grasping a birthday card for her favorite person. One that was funny yet endearing. Parker was addicted to all the corned jokes she would crack. She made her way to the register. In front of her stood a little old woman, she wore a purple floral dress and her white stained hair was pulled into a clip.

“Just this for you sweetie? Oh, who’s birthday is it?” Asked the little lady, referring to the birthday card Rosie grabbed for Parker.

“My brother’s and um, could I also get this,” Rosie responded as her eyes glanced below her. Skimming over the candy bars, gum packets and eventually landing on a pregnancy test. Come to think of it, Rosie was late about a week and a half.

“Of course, honey. Would you like to use the restroom?” Queried the lady. Rosie nodded in response. She finished paying and quickly made her way to the restroom. Following the directions on the box carefully, she needed to be a hundred percent sure, before she told anyone.

Right around the corner was the cemetery. She glided through iron gates, walking across the cobble stone path before she came upon the place she loved most in the world. The place where she would hold nothing back, spilling everything to him.

Life of a mob boss was dangerous but things started to seem eerie for Rosie. She would feel weird presences or someone watching her at eerie times. The same feeling plagued her at the cemetery, today. She knelt down to the headstone, engraved in it read “Here Lies Parker Jackson Holland, Taken from us too soon, a son, a brother, and a friend.”

“Hey, P. You probably get tired of me visiting you. Everyday I’m here and sometimes I think I do it for my benefit more than yours. I hope that wherever you are, you are happy and most likely you are with Charlotte. I’m happy for you, Parker. No matter how much I wish you were here with me, I know that you are happy that you escaped this life. Happy 20th birthday.” Rosie whispered, fixing the flowers that began to wilt from yesterday.

“I have some really amazing news to share with you, but it will have to wait till next time. You can’t be the first person I tell, I’m sorry. He deserves to know before you…. Oh my god, you’ll never believe what happened at work…”

This is the one thing that brought Rosie solace. She persistently blames herself for that fateful night 3 years ago. Rosie would spend hours kneeling next to his headstone. She would tell him about her life and read off the postcards you and Tom sent from your travels. Talking to him as if he was still there.

Rosie glanced at her watch, it was half past five and she hadn’t even called Jared yet to pick her up. “I’m sorry P, I gotta go. Henry, god love him but, that bastard is throwing me a birthday party. I guess I should at least make an appearance. I’ll see you tomorrow, I love you.” Rosie said, walking towards the parking lot.

She stood under the gate for ten minutes waiting for Jared to arrive and escort her home. The weather completely shifted as the sun set around her. The once blue sky changed to one painted with vibrant yellows and pinks. The sky was a sight not to be missed but she could do without the freezing winds that accompanied.

A chill ran down her spine as she waited in the darkness. Feeling a sensation that only warranted panic. Rosie felt someone watching her once again. Maybe from a far or up close, but she definitely wasn’t alone. It was silly that she let feelings like those get to her. She was a mob boss for god sakes, scaring even the most menacing of men into submission.

Rosie eyes started darting everywhere a noise left. In the corner of her eye she caught a figure drenched in shadows approaching. She tried to scramble for her gun, but soon realized she left it in Linus’s car.

The stranger kept making advances and managed to get to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed a cloth to her mouth. Causing her to be consumed in darkness as her body grew limp.

Back at the manor, Henry was setting everything up perfectly. His mission was to make Rosie love her birthday once more. While Henry was working hard at hanging the birthday banner and decorating every corner with balloons, Linus was no help at all. Lounging on the couch and finishing a beer.

“So are you going to pick up Rosie and get off your ass?” Henry barked, pulling the coffee out from under Linus, causing him to spill his beer.

“Seriously, dude. What’s your problem?” Linus snapped.

“My problem is my girlfriend isn’t here. Aren’t you supposed to pick her up?” “No, Jared is.” “Linus, Jared is here. He has been for a few hours. Where is she?” Henry questioned, starting to worry. “I don’t know. Last, I left her at the cemetery.” “Henry! It’s so good to see you,” you cheered as Tom and you walked in. Hugging Henry after not seeing him for awhile. It still pained you to visit, traveling was the perfect distraction.

“Hope you have been taking care of yourself, son. Where’s Rosie?” Tom questioned. “Yeah, I’ve been good. At the moment, I don’t know where she is. She’s missing,” Henry concluded. You and Tom stood completely still as you processed the news. It wasn’t everyday that your daughter would disappear into thin air, but her job did keep her life in danger.Rosie missing was uncommon. It had happened once or twice in the past but that was 3 years ago. So much had changed, for the better. Yet, you were once again in the same place, in the house you left because everything was too familiar. Rosie missing was all too familiar.

Rosie came to. Opening her eyes to a place she chose to forget. For all she knew it was an exact replica. Warehouses riddled all of London’s ports, she could be anywhere.

“Text your driver and tell him Henry picked you up for a special birthday dinner,” Rosie’s kidnapper barked, thrusting a phone in front of her.

“Really? You kidnapped me? After 3 years of being leader of London’s most feared mob, it’s like been there done that. Do you want money or something? I have a party to get to.” Rosie quipped, annoyed with they man’s pursuits.

“Oh, I know. I believe happy birthday is granted. 20 years is a milestone.”

“Whatever, I don’t really like my birthday anyway.”

“Wanna talk about it?” The stranger pestered on. Rosie had learned lesson from the last time she was restrained to chair, rope around her wrists and ankles, ceasing blood flow. This time it was zip ties, a little basic for any mobster she has had a run with.

“No. I want you to let me go. Seriously, what do you want? I don’t think you know who I am. Or who my father is,” Rosie asserted.

“A moment alone together is all I ask and I know exactly who you are and who your dad is. Correction, who our dad is.”

“Parker.”

A/n: Finally the end. Alright, I'm going to bed. There is no set schedule for the sequel series, I'm just going to post a chapter when I finish writing it. Let me know if you like to be tagged in the sequel chapters.

Guns, Glamour and Goodfellas Masterlist

Taglist: @thenoddingbunny-blog @adriannauni @dummiesshort @bi-lmg @allthisfortommy @quaksonhehe @housepartyprotocol

#tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland series #tom holland fanfic #tom holland mob au #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #tom #mob!tom #mob tom #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom x mob!reader #tom holland fan fiction smut #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland masterlist #mob!tom x reader #dad!mob!tom holland

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whattodowithkpop · 3 years ago

Text

Blind Senses (Ravn)

Title: Blind Senses

Pairing: Reader x Ravn (Oneus)

Genre: Fluff, Spice, Superhero AU, Enemies to lovers, Soulmate AU

Word count: 2,543

Writer: Kpopmadness (Ju)

*****

There is a lie that every parent tells their child, we hear it when we get scared at night. We are reminded of it over and over again. 'Monsters don't exist' Monsters aren't under your bed, they aren't in the closet, they aren't trying to get in your window. The doors are locked, the window is sealed shut, everything is fine.

The only thing I was worried about when I was little was who my match was; Every child is born with a soul mark, it's the tell of where your soulmate will touch you for the very first time. But when you are touched by your soulmate, the birthmark will turn a bright shade of pink and purple before withering away. Your soulmate having been found.

My birthmark encases my right wrist, a common place for people to have their soul mark. I often forgot about my mark until I looked down and saw my one marked wrist. But every now and again a flutter would slice through my stomach at the thought that one day, that mark would be gone. And I would have found my other half.

When I was 15, my childish dreams changed forever. A science plant exploded suddenly. An experiment gone wrong. There was an orange smoke that rose from the ashes of the building, its angry smoke rushing toward our city. I still remember seeing it outside my bedroom window a second before my mother rushed in with my father and hurried us down to our basement. My father boarding up the windows and doors to block the smoke out. Screaming could be heard outside, ones of fear and agony for those who didn't get inside in time.

In the wake of that science experiment, we were left with mutants. People caught in the smoke developed supernatural powers. Some of these people developed a spiked aggression, using their powers for the worst. That is how my father died. He and a group of scientists were working on a cure for the genetic mutations. But some didn't like that. A group of mutants set up a bomb in the basement of the plant, angry that someone wanted to take their power away. Take away their sense of control.

I still remember being home with my mother when we saw the black cloud with angry flames fill the sky. The earth shaking slightly in its wake. Dread and grief filling us, knowing exactly where the explosion came from. On that day, my life, my goals, and how I viewed people with these special powers, changed.

`````

Alarms ring through the large building, the sound jarring and disorienting. I stand my ground at my station and continue working quickly. I enter a series of commands into my laptop. My fingers shaking violently.

Red lights flash and the sound of people running down the halls fills the small room. I take my lab coat off, the room sweltering. The screen on my laptop shows a loading bar, making me tap my foot impatiently. I was so close to finishing this, it would change how we see mutants. It reversed their DNA to go back to normal, their powers vanishing. The work my father started would finally be complete and I would have a sense of closure.

The lights and alarm cut out, leaving me in blackness except for the screen of my laptop. I suck in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. I was putting my life at risk for the sake of this experiment, but I had come too far to stop now. Eventually, blue lights come on, slightly illuminating the room. When they do, the loading bar on the screen is almost done, my muscles tense. Then the laptop suddenly gets slammed shut, making me jump back.

"Did I interrupt something?" A deep voice asks coldly, his palm firmly on the laptop to keep it shut.

"That's government property." I say firmly, but my voice cracks.

The man smirks at me, seeming amused by my weak attempt at a threat. Like me saying it was something the government owned would make him remove his hand from it and leave in fear.

"Yes, well, you and your government should really stop trying to cure something that doesn't need a cure." He glowers.

"And maybe we wouldn't have to look for a cure if you people weren't destroying families and killing the innocent." I shoot back, anger rising in my chest and filling my veins. My thoughts going to my father.

The man hesitates, his eyes showing a sort of concern and sympathy for my words. I take my chance and make a dive for the laptop, trying to jerk it out from under his strong hand. The man grabs my right wrist, stopping me.

"Do not try it." He snarls, his grip on my wrist horribly tight.

He slowly removes his hand from my wrist, my eyes widening and a gasp escaping my lips when I see my wrist. My soulmate mark shined a bright purple, matching the mark on his hand, then both marks slowly began to fade. Our soulmate marks disappearing. We had found our soulmates.

I stare at the man in front of me, both our eyes wide in disbelief. We were on opposite sides of a war, yet we were meant to be together. Suddenly, everything goes black. At first, I think the lights in the room have gone out. But it's my vision that disappears. I fall to the floor, my legs unable to support me. Panic grips me. I've gone blind.

"Don't worry." The man says soothingly. "I only took your sight away temporarily. Your vision will return in 10 minutes, that's just long enough time for me and my team to escape."

I take several deep breaths, trying to soothe my heart that pounded in my ribs. I spread my fingers out along the cold tile floor, trying to feel for something, anything. That's why I jump when I feel warm hands incase both my hands, making me cower away from the touch. But the grip holds firm.

"I hope we meet again." The man says. His tone sounding like he really meant that. "Maybe then it will be under better circumstances, soulmate."

He squeezes my hands before letting me go, his footsteps fading into the distance. Leaving me to recover my sight slowly, with a swirling heart and mind. I thought he had left, then I hear his voice again.

"By the way, just because I think we should know this for the future, my name is Ravn."

````

3 Years Later;

"No, we have to finish this." I demand as I follow my co-worker around the lab. The earth shaking beneath us, making everyone scurry around the room. Anxiety levels high.

"Well then you finish it then." My co-worker snaps irritably. "We don't want to die here. Unlike you and your obsession with finding this dream cure."

"It's more than that." I plead. Pushing my way through people pushing passed me in panic. The earth giving off another tremble while bright flashes of red light flash outside. Heavy rain pounding against the building like fists.

"You say that and he always comes for you." My co-worker says, whirling around to face me. His eyes raging.

I pause, my brain looking for an excuse. Any excuse. Ravn had come for me and the sought after cure for three years. No matter what I did, no matter how much I tried to hide, he always found me. His devilish smirk always reappearing.

"We're so close though." I say quietly. More of a reminder to myself than to anyone else in the room. Not that they ever listened to me. The population had given up on trying to find a cure a long time ago.

My co-worker sighs, rubbing his temples. "I know this experiment is the only thing of your father you have of him." He says, his tone softened. "But they won't stop chasing you and trying to tear you down. And they are outside as we speak."

I look over my shoulder to the large glass window behind me. Flashes of light and tremors in the earth reminding us that these weren't from natural sources. But from people. People who could control the weather and even create earthquakes to topple a building in seconds. And their leader, my soulmate, just waiting for them to break through our defenses.

"We're evacuating." My co-worker says, pulling my attention back towards him. "Come with us if you want. Otherwise, you can stay and talk to your boyfriend."

I feel a surge of heat course through me, flushing my cheeks a scarlet color. I couldn't find my voice in time to deny that he wasn't my boyfriend before my co-worker hurries off with the rest of my, supposed to be, teammates. At this point in my journey, I was used to working alone and everyone thinking I was crazy for trying to fix something that everyone else had just adjusted to and given up trying to control.

I set my jaw in determination and whirl back to my station, opening my laptop and entering the code. I watched the clock carefully as I worked. The world around me seemed to fall away as I worked, being used to Ravn coming for me to stop me from developing a cure. Our relationship having grown in a strange way. We were soulmates, but we were also enemies.

The lights in the building flicker off, just like they had three years prior when I first met Ravn. My heartbeat picks up but I keep working, knowing I still had a few valuable minutes before he showed up. My laptop gives out a series of beeps, making me step back in surprise. I stare at the screen in shock.

"I did it." I whisper under my breath, a smile spreading across my face. I found the cure to return the mutants back to their normal DNA.

"We really have to stop meeting like this." A familiar deep voice says behind me.

I whirl around and press my back against the counter's edge, trying to hide my laptop screen from his sharp eyes. Ravn stood a few feet away from me, his dark hair dripping wet from the rain. His black trench coat leaving pools of water around his boots.

"You say that, but you seem to enjoy chasing me." I reply, trying to keep my tone even. I slowly reach my hands behind my back to find the USB with the cure downloaded on it, pressing it firmly against my palm for safety.

Ravn's eyes flicker to my hands that were behind my back, his eyes taking on a cautious look. "You just can't give up on that cure, can you?"

"Someone has to keep trying."

Ravn chuckles, stepping closer to me. Making my muscles tense. "Give me the USB, sweetheart." He says dryly, extending his palm towards me.

I stare at him, how could he know?

"I'm not stupid." Ravn says, as if reading my thoughts. "I know you found the cure. Please, give it to me."

"Why is it so bad that you could all go back to your normal lives?" I ask, my voice pleading as I slide my way down the counter as Ravn comes closer.

"Because some of us have nothing to return to." Ravn answers calmly. "You would be taking away the one thing people feel they can control since they inherited their powers."

"You don't use your powers for anything good though." I argue.

"That's not true and you know it." Ravn replies. "We aren't all like that. Even if you gave the cure to some of us there would be others who would refuse to take it and would continue to wreak havoc. You take away the good people with powers you're left with the bad and you won't be able to defeat them."

I pause, that thought never having occurred to me since I took over my fathers work. The population of people with special powers had grown. 40% of the worlds population had citizens with some kind of power these past three years.

"The cure." Ravn says again, extending his hand out to me once again.

I stare at his hand, the hand that once held his soulmate mark, just like my wrist once did. Despite all he said, I still held onto the USB tighter and turned and ran from him. I knew how stupid of a move it was, it was pointless when Ravn could strip away human senses. But I still ran, and I almost got to the door when my vision disappeared, immersing me in blackness. Making me fall to my knees, the USB still clutched in my hand.

I feel Ravn's hands encase my waist, picking me up off the tile floor and taking me to the closest counter to let me lean against it. My vision a milky white.

"You know running from me does no good." His voice sounding as if he were a bit hurt by my actions.

"This cure is all I have." I choke out, still clutching the USB in my palm. My hands trembling.

Ravn seems to freeze, his breath fanning across my cheeks that were starting to streak with tears. "This cure is all I've known since my fathers death." I gush, unable to stop the words from tumbling out. My mother having completely shut down since my fathers death. Her attitude cold and isolated from me.

"It's all I have."

Ravn touches my eyes, wiping the tears away but also giving me my vision back. I'm alarmed by how close he stands to me, our eyes locked. His brown eyes hold a sadness to them I had never seen before. A sort of sympathy that had faded from people's eyes long ago when it came to me.

"It's not all you have." He whispers. "It never has been."

I stare up at him, words freezing in my throat. Before I can form a response, his lips press against mine. His hands cupping my face. I suck in a breath in shock, but soon my eyes close and my arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer to me. A sense of completeness washing over me.

Ravn slides his hands down to my ribs, picking my up and setting me on the counter. His body between my legs, his hands going to my thighs as he grips them firmly. I feel my fingers uncurl their grip on the USB, it clatters to the floor. My fingers weaving through Ravn's hair instead. His lips tugging at mine in a sort of desperation, both of us craving each other after being deprived for years.

The cure fades into an obsession that melts into my past, something I had chased thinking it was all I had. When my life had the chance to start over with Ravn and actually do something to help others. He had known something all this time that I never had. We were on the same side, I just wasn't willing to accept it. My senses blinded. And it took him to uncover them.

#oneus #oneus ravn #oneus x reader #oneus fanfic #oneus fluff #oneus spice #ravn #kpop x reader #kpop fanfiction #kpop #kpop au #kpopmadness writings #Ju admin

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bored-storyteller · 4 years ago

Text

Second part of the request for @amevinil239

25- Twisted Wonderland- Kalim, Azul, Leona, Riddle x Reader

Anger and home pt. 2

Kalim Al-Asim

-I'm not sure what can get Kalim into arguing, but I'm pretty sure if you're stressed out, his behavior can be irritating sometimes.

-Mostly, Kalim will be blind to your problems. It's not that he doesn't want to see them, but he simply can't.

-And he doesn't listen. Trying to tell him with good manners that you really would need his support and not having to satisfy his whims is difficult.

-Furthermore, Kalim is a good person, perhaps a little childish, but he is not stupid or submissive. If there is a misunderstanding and he feels he is right, he is stubborn on his arguments.

-In any case, he would never intend to hurt you, ever.

-After a fight he will be the most wounded in the soul of the two, and if you run away from him the world will collapse on him.

"That's enough!"

Your voice is so high that it burns your throat as if it were sandpaper.

You never thought you would reach this level of anger and desolation, not with Kalim.

He's angry too, you've never seen him angry. His expression is serious, almost adult.

By now you are tired of making him think. He has never experienced what the suffering of people like you means. It is not his fault.

Yet you can't forgive him, you can't stop being mad at him.

"I just want to go home! Where all this doesn't exist!"

It's not so true, and you know it. You miss home, so badly. But you could never pretend again that this world doesn't exist.

You don't want to look at him again, partly for your badness, partly for shame.

You turn around and run away, hoping he won't hear your sobs. You don't see how much those words hurt him, all the realization you suddenly threw in him.

Curled up in the most hidden corner of the garden, you know he will come to you. Because Kalim is a good person, really good, and he doesn't want to make people suffer.

He knows that because of him many can suffer, you, Jamil... and he hates himself for not knowing how to protect you from this, even if he could.

Sitting next to you he is silent for a while, letting himself be hurt by your sobs.

"I know ..." he murmurs sadly "But ... I'd miss you so much ..."

Those words increase your sobs, but they push you to untie yourself from your knot and push yourself towards him. By placing your head on his lap, you let yourself be caressed by his sweet hands. He is probably crying too, but both of you have finally come close. Because you know that if you are with him, you are a little bit at home anyway.

Azul Ashengrotto

-It is not difficult for Azul to hurt people, nor is he usually too sorry about it. He has suffered so many wounds that he can no longer empathize.

-If something about you doesn't suit him, he will tell you. Usually, however, he will maintain a gentlemanlike air that will soften his criticisms and make them look like advice.

-But there may be that time he says that extra thing without even looking at you, assuming you will listen to it.

-It will probably not even be a discussion, you will lose the desire to stay in his presence before he understands how seriously you are angry.

-If the Leach twins are there, they will be the first to understand how serious the situation is and they will exchange puzzled looks, hoping that Azul will look up from his documents and look at you before it is too late.

-When Azul also realizes it will be like a bucket of ice water on his head. He can't say how bad you looked to him, but it's too late to fix it.

-He won't lose its composure, but it won't let you go anyway.

"I want to go home away from all this!"

Azul can't stop you while you rush out the door.

He just looks at the door from where you're gone out with a surprised face. He hadn't noticed that you were crying.

Jade looks at him with the worried expression of someone who knows how serious the problem is now.

"Do you want me to bring them back?"

Azul shakes his head, and clearing his throat returns to do his job.

You, locked in your room, you don't know how irritable the Octavinelle leader remains for the rest of the day.

You feel alone and abandoned. An apology would have sufficed, but not even the threat of leaving seemed to scratch his heart.

If you can't count on Azul you know that a void will open inside you that will make you feel even more out of place in that world of magic.

You are about to give in to tiredness and sadness. Now all you want to do is disappear between your sheets, but before you can go to bed someone knocks on your door.

Slowly you go to open it. Azul is in front of you, his expression is serious and composed, but in his hand he holds a small paper bag. From the good scent that comes out you know it's your favorite dessert.

"Can I come in?"

His voice is calm and diplomatic, yet it is softer than usual.

You step aside even if you try to stay hard on him. You are still angry, and he realizes it.

He doesn't know how to behave, you know, you see him as he enters your room.

"I know you want to go home."

His voice resounds after a few minutes in silence.

"But until then, please stand by me, even if I'm just a good-for-nothing octopus."

You know how much those words cost him. You don't know if you'll ever hear them again, but you know they are worth more than a million apologies.

You approach him, and slowly taking the bag he brought and you open it.

"Do we eat it together?"

Leona Kingscholar

-Arguing is tiring, it must be serious for Leona to really engage in it.

-Leona listens to the complaints by puffing, he will answer every now and then but she will drop the whole discussion, yawning and maybe giving you reason.

-If it gets serious and he gets really angry, though, you'll see his animal side. If there is an incomprehension between you two that hurts him, he will struggle to restrain himself.

-He could really say things that can hurt you.

-Leona is used to people who are afraid of him. From an early age he was considered "frightening" because of his power. He never really felt appreciated despite his efforts. If you run away from him he will feel really bad.

You exploded at his last growl.

"You know what ?! I hate this place! I want to go back to my house!"

You threw up those words on him and ran away, giving birth to your tears that fell from your cheeks.

Those words hurt you too. You missed home, it is difficult to be divided between two worlds (which you perhaps love both).

You leave a broken Leona behind. His green eyes stare at the spot where you are gone. The prince's mind is good at digging under the surface more than he wants to believe. Did you just tell him you hate him? What do you want to run away from him?

He is not stupid, he knows that you miss your home, but the malice and pain with which you spoke to him displaced him. Maybe he really went overboard with you this time.

Leona doesn't often feel the urge to do something, yet now he wants to talk to you right away. But he doesn't follow you. You would probably chase him away and it would make him and you feel worse.

He only looks for you later hoping that you have calmed down, but he finds you curled up in the greenhouse, with your face hidden in your knees tight against your chest, crying.

Carefully sit next to you, not too close or too far. He knows you know he's there, and you're not sending him away. Good.

"Do you ... really want to get away from me?"

As if he had stung you with a pin you look at him. You are certain you have not said those words but Leona's surprisingly serious (and sad) gaze stops you for a second.

"I won't stop you if that's what you want ... but ... I ..."

Even if he doesn't want to, you feel the knot in his throat from the crack in his voice that prevents him from completing the sentence. You didn't want to hurt him like that, you didn't want to leave him.

Cautiously you approach him, and silently snuggle against his shoulder.

The prince lets you act, while his tail surrounds you widely and his cheek rests on your head.

"I know you miss home ... but I'm here."

Riddle Rosehearts

-Riddle is a demanding person, you know. He is a good boy, but he can easily throw your mood under your shoes.

-For him everything he says is important, so it is often dangerous to challenge him. When it happens it's because he really hits you.

-Yet he won't understand it. He will support his views in anger without realizing how deeply he is digging inside you.

- A stupid argument can get really heavy with him if you don't give in, and sometimes you know it's okay not to give in.

-Riddle knows he has to improve himself, but only realizes it when he's done the damage. And most of the time he doesn't know how to fix it.

Riddle feels a failure when he sees you running away.

He still hears your last words inside himself: "I want to go back to my house!"

He knows everything they mean. All your pain, and all the pain he causes you.

He sighs heavily, bringing a hand to his face and hiding it against his palm.

"I did it again, didn't I?"

Trey only looks at him sympathetically, without replying. All eyes are on the leader, but he doesn't care.

He swallows that wave of impotence that overwhelms him and straightens himself, parading among the students with a determined step, to look for you.

This is no time to be a capricious child, Riddle. It must find you and support you. This is what a leader must do.

You, sitting on a bench, clasp your arms around yourself, seeking comfort in yourself, as you try to silence the tears.

Again Riddle swallows his anguish and approaches you. He's afraid of your reaction, but still he gives you a tissue to wipe away the tears, because that's how a leader behaves, right? He wants you to trust him. He wants to be responsible for you.

"I know you miss home ... and how difficult it is for you to settle here ..."

He begins with a gentler voice. You are not pushing him away, so he dares to sit next to you. hoping to do the right thing.

"But until ... when you can return to your world let me help you."

He doesn't see you reacting, but he feels that your sobs have stopped, maybe he is on track.

"Can you forgive me?"

Finally your hands move, and with a slight thanks you grab what he gives you, cleaning your face.

Riddle feels relieved, it would have been difficult to lose you.

You look at him, and smiling shyly you nod, sure that you forgive him. How can you not forgive such a lovable boy?

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #twst kalim #twisted wonderland kalim #leona kingscholar x reader #twst leona #twisted wonderland leona #riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle #azul ashengrotto x reader #twst azul

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commonwealthoccurences · 4 years ago

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The One You’re Looking For

CW: Blood mention, injury mention, alcohol mention

Word Count: 1,621

Prompt: I’m The One You’re Looking For

Day: 28/28

Note: And here’s the last post for Fallout 4 February! Thank you guys for reading and supporting!

The moment Sole stepped into the Third Rail they noted it was like stepping into another world. Not particularly significantly, but everything seemed to shift to the left, just off enough to be noticeable. The sound was softer, muffled, from the upper floor, smoke hanging in the air, shifting like shimmering waves, palpable enough it looked like you could reach out and grab ahold of it.

Notably, the floor was decently clean other than a few sets of footsteps that had tracked in dust and dirt, standing out even more from the rest of the Wasteland. The building creaked every now and then, light sighs of the energy it was holding in, the heart of Goodneighbor in all of its glory. Walking down the stilled escalators seemed to be like walking further into a lucid dream, surrendering oneself to the bleeding calm, the haze and blurriness of it all.

Sole’s boots met the metal steps with a soft clang every time they moved forward, barely heard over the crooning voice of Magnolia echoing downstairs. They appreciated a subtle entrance. The guns attached to their hips and thighs shifted easily with their weight, more obvious than they preferred, but it was house policy; this wasn’t the Combat Zone, and hidden firearms were seen more as a threat than a precaution.

They let their weight shift easily, the tension ease from their back, as they descended into the warm chaos of the Third Rail, letting the smoke and shifting lights drift around them lazily as they made their way to the bar. With a short wave of their hand they caught Whitechapel’s attention, and with a short firing of his jets, he headed their way. The conversation was short and to the point, the way both of them preferred it. Sole slid their caps over the wooden countertop and gave an appreciative nod before heading away with their drink.

A booth in the back corner was famously theirs, considering they kicked their feet up and rested there most weekends when they weren’t preoccupied with their work in the Commonwealth. Sometimes other regulars dropped by to say hello, but most simply sent a smile their way and continued shifting with the rest of the room. Like a merry-go-round half circle, everything spun slowly while Sole sat back and observed, drink in hand, head tilted back comfortably against the back of the booth.

It wasn’t the most relaxing seating, if they were honest. The fake leather had long been worn through, leaving what vaguely resembled padding and a wooden base. Every time they drew in a breath their spine shifted against the supports and within half an hour they were sore. Smoke and ash invaded their throat and lungs with a familiar sting, drawing forth soft coughing within the hour. It wasn’t traditionally comfortable, but it was comfortable in the way that it was familiar. They inhaled, the crowd swayed left, they exhaled, the crowd swayed right. Magnolia sang on.

So that’s where they ended up, a sight to be seen, the hero of the Commonwealth, with their boots resting on the table, a whiskey gripped lazily between the tips of their fingers, tipped back slowly every few minutes. The glass came away from their lips a little bloody; something had gotten the upper hand earlier in the day and they were nursing more than a split lip, but it just seemed to add to the way they blended in so well, the picture of the Wasteland’s spirit. Sweat from the ice cubes mixed with their blood and ran down the foggy glass, once clear, a muddy pink.

The cold alcohol stung their wound, making them draw in a sharp breath between their teeth. For a moment, their fists clenched, then released as the biting pain passed. They released the breath. The crowd shifted right. Oh, how reliable Goodneighbor could be.

Sole’s eyes flickered upwards to the shining singer onstage, the way she leaned into the microphone with her signature smirk. She knew exactly how she captivated her audience, and the confidence looked good on her. Sole lifted their glass in regards and watched her smile grow before they redirected their attention back to the people in front of them.

A few couples they recognized. Mostly ghouls that had been around since the beginning of Goodneighbor, finding nowhere else to settle that was so welcoming in face of their appearance. It was easy to forget the cruelty of the outside world down in the depths of Goodneighbor, where everyone simply wanted to survive. No one asked why you were there, in the shelter for the community-less, everyone new. Goodneighbor was home to everyone and no one at all.

They let their head tilt back, their gaze shifting to the ceiling that would inevitably crumble under the pressure of acceptance. They swore they saw dust floating down from overhead, but delighted in the way that they were comfortable ignoring it. Now was not the time to worry about tomorrow. They drew in a breath of smoke and perfume and let it sink into their skin, stain them and leave them warm, fuzzy like the alcohol was making their thoughts.

When they shifted their back away from the shitty supports, a stretch overtook them, their feet in their boots pointing on top of the table as they pushed the exhaustion out of their limbs with a shake, arms extending to their sides. The blissful relief was cut short by a voice startling them. “Well someone looks awfully comfortable.”

A voice so familiar yet so distant. At least, it had been. The gravelly tone yanked their attention away from the relaxation flowing through their veins and they shifted their weight upwards to sit somewhat proper, eyebrows raised. The mayor of Goodneighbor stood in front of their table, drink in hand as well, a grin on his face like he had just caught a cat stealing cream. Sole wasn’t ashamed in the way they obviously looked him up and down, getting a good image of the fearless leader.

Sure, they’d seen Hancock before. He was of the people, for the people, which meant he was out giving speeches on his balcony nearly every couple of days. They’d been there for a few, eyes squinted against the sun, not moving from where they had been sitting before he decided to rally up his supporters and have a chat. Technically, they weren’t truly a settler in Goodneighbor, they simply hung around when they had time, therefore the announcements weren’t for them. Or so they claimed to themself to justify making sure they could keep their spot, warm in the sun.

But now the man himself was looking down at them, eye to eye, swirling his drink in his hand lazily as he observed and waited for their answer. After getting a better look at him, well, of what they could see in the dim, murky lighting of the underground bar, they shrugged. “Suppose I am.”

Hancock laughed at this, more amused than Sole assumed he would be. He invited himself to sit, though they figured technically every seat in the bar was his regardless, and slid into the booth beside them, following their lead by kicking his feet up onto the table as well. Magnolia moved onto another song, her shining dress blinding in the swaying lights, crooning out the first words to something Sole knew by heart. Their posture was turning to mush right in that very seat.

He wasn’t stealthy in the way he turned and looked at them, studying their features with a gaze that could melt the sun itself. He had seen them before, both in the Third Rail and out and about in the settlement. They kept to themself for the most part, but they had a good reputation for being there when needed, and definitely had a take-no-shit attitude that Hancock admired from what he had heard about it.

Truth be told, Hancock had been intrigued by their mysterious presence in his little town, surprising even himself. There were a lot of drifters like Sole who popped in and out of the community as they wished, but they never stood out to Hancock. They were different. Something about their calm confidence, lacking in cockiness but firm in the way they knew they could handle themself, drew him in.

With a slow tilt of their head, they looked over at him, meeting his eyes with a quirked eyebrow and a self-satisfied smile, barely visible in the shadows of their corner booth. They nearly rolled their eyes when his gaze darted down to their mouth, undoubtedly influenced by the alcohol in his system and whatever chems had taken over before he had walked into the Third Rail. Regardless, they were a little flattered. Patiently, they waited for him to bring his eyes back to theirs. “I have an offer for you, sweetheart.” His voice was lower than it had been. It was hard to suppress the shiver that ran through them.

“Mm, not that kind of person, Mayor. Sorry.” The smile that followed barely masked the teasing lilt to their tone.

“Not that kind of offer. It’s something I need a skilled merc to take care of, but if you do the job I think you can, we can consider other offers afterwards.” He laughed.

Sole hummed in response, borderline hypnotized by the way the ice swirled in his glass, his wrist still rotating. They took another deep breath of smoke and instead was surrounded by whatever rich, warm scent was coming from Hancock. Firewood and rum and something a little flowery. It was a little addicting, and they swore it wasn’t them that replied, “I’m in.”

#Fallout 4 #Fo4 #Fo4f #Fallout 4 February #Hancock #Mayor Hancock #Imagine #Oneshot #Fanfiction #Fanfic #FF #Meet cute

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pomegranates-and-blood · 4 years ago

Text

νοσταλγία (Chapter 3)

(Gif credit to @whenimaunicorn)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader (eventual)

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: The usual :)

A/N: Words cannot express how much it means to hear back and to know people actually like this mess I’m writing. Thank you so so so much! I hope you all enjoy, and again, thank you.

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius (Thank you so fucking much for your support and your comments btw, it means the world. You’re amazing!)

“So, Priestess.” You hear behind you, jumping back with a yelp and almost dropping the scroll you held in your hands.

You turn around to find the Viking King standing by your doorway, leaning heavily on his crutch and looking at you with a small smug smile on his face.

“A gentleman would knock.” You say around a small smile of your own, and leave the rolled-up map on a nearby end table before motioning for a chair and sitting in one nearby. It shouldn’t be so easy, so familiar, letting him into your space.

“You should know better.”

“I didn’t expect to see you again.” You confess without hesitation, looking into his pale eyes that reflect the stubborn light of the candles in the room around you.

“I have nothing but my brother and Christians to talk to in this city,” He dismisses easily, a gesture of his hand as he takes a seat near you. Your eyes, curious, follow the agile movements of his left hand as he maneuvers the crutch on his side to rest nearby. “You are far better company.”

“Thank you, I think,” You say, biting your lip to keep your stupid mouth from smiling and the foolish bashfulness from showing on your expression. Apparently, it does regardless, judging by the pleased look on the Viking’s face. Clearing your throat, you steal a glance to the closed door and state, “You do know you are scandalizing half a city right now, don’t you?”

“I am?” Based on his smug look, he knows, but you speak anyways.

“I am already called a witch,” You explain, “Do you know what it will do to my reputation if they are to see a Viking enter my home?”

“And you care for your reputation?”

“Any lady would care about her reputation!” You pretend to be scandalized, before rolling your eyes at yourself. You delight yourself in the small huff that leaves the man’s lips, what could be a laugh if given just enough room to breathe.

“The Saxons,” He starts, leaning the side of his body on the table, “You said they call you a witch.”

“A woman that worships the Gods of the Dead is usually labeled such a thing,” You offer with a small shrug. After a breath of hesitation, you dare tease, “Are you one to believe Stithulf’s tales that I can bewitch men to their deaths? Blind them and have them follow my every whim?”

He keeps pale eyes on you, studying you quietly for a few moments before rescinding, closing his eyes in a slow blink and murmuring,

"Not through magic,” Before you have a chance to ask what he means by that, he motions for a place behind you and asks, “What is that?”

You twist on your seat to where he points and see he means the scroll you…borrowed from Leofric. Stretching on your seat, you grab onto the old paper and open it on the table.

The colors are faded, and to what you understand is not very accurate, but you have been growing restless here and you wanted to at least learn something other than defeat here.

“What do you need a map for?” The Viking frowns, rough fingers placed over the edges of the map you cannot hold and helping you smooth it over the table.

You know if he were to think of you as a Greek Anassa before anything else, he would be on his guard about you by now, because after all, it is a foreign leader looking to know the outline of his homeland. But he isn’t.

Because that’s what you agreed upon, right? No names and no identities past this door, no future or present outside of this disgusting little hut. But your people need to leave this village, they need to be away from Stithulf’s ambitious hands, from Leofric’s egotistical God.

Stealing a hand back to put a lock of hair behind your ear, you offer, “Knowing where on this earth the Gods have taken us?” You grimace at your own words. As if the Gods would want this. Regardless, you swallow past the bitterness of the soft lie and continue explaining, “I…don’t know where I am. I mean, I know there’s no point in knowing, but I don’t…”

He silences you with a point of his finger, eyes inquisitive and always demanding when they look over your face but still quiet, offering you the location and name of the city with a point of his finger.

Your eyes look over the seas and rivers drawn there, and even if it all feels so fucking foreign and strange and unforgiving, at least knowing where in this world the last of the Attics have perished, what hills and what rivers bury their unfortunate bodies; brings you a little peace.

For a moment there’s a flare of a thought, an errant idea, of how maybe, just maybe, this strange man turned King, in all his faults and fame; could be easily played with. You lured a Greek Strategus into laying an army at your feet, surely you could get something out of the Viking before your life reached its untimely end.

The few Attics that have survived the hell of these last weeks could benefit from whatever aid you can get the King to-…

No.

You shake those thoughts off quickly enough. You have regretted your lies before, you have promise to be honest and be true because you cannot stomach the mere possibility that one day you will look at your reflection and not recognize who you are past all the lies and the masks.

So, you look into the Varangian’s pale blue eyes, and offer sincerely, “Thank you.”

He ignores your words, you don’t know whether because he has no interest in your gratitude or because he does not know how to answer to it.

Instead, he asks, “How do you know how to read a map?”

“You ask me that and not how I speak your language? Or know of your Gods?” You reply, eyebrows raised. The Viking shrugs, conceding, but his eyes remain with the same inquisitive glint, demanding his answers. With a sigh, you offer, “There’s…Varangians where I am from. When my mother was killed, what you call a shieldmaiden took me in and raised me as her own.”

“What was her name?”

“Is,” You correct with a small frown, “Sieghild is very much alive.”

“Would I know of her?” He asks, and you narrow your eyes at him. The Viking explains, “A shieldmaiden that lived all the way in the Mediterranean, surely she has her own share of fame.”

“That’s her story to tell, not mine.”

And the candles burn on, and you two continue talking about whatever comes to mind. You don’t ask about what happens in this city, he doesn’t ask -much- about what brought you and your people here. He doesn’t ask your name again, and you make a point of avoiding saying his.

Somehow, you made the mistake of telling him about Keres, and their fame as angels of violent deaths that scour the battlefields; and now the Viking won’t stop insisting that they are just Valkyries with different names.

“But you know of the Valkyries.” He insists, a frown in his brow and his nose.

“I do.”

“Then why do you call them with a different name?”

“Keres are not Valkyries.”

“They sound very alike, Priestess,” His mouth curves downwards in an exaggerated gesture and he shrugs his shoulders. “It sounds to me that you Greeks just like changing the names of things.”

Even if you should be offended all you do is smile, “What?”

“Barangoi,” He offers, a tilt of his head. “You could just say Viking.”

“And you could just say Keres instead of Valkyries.”

“Ah!” He points a finger at you, “So you admit they are one and the same.”

“I don’t follow your Gods, Barangoi,” You remind him, but he just tilts his head to the side and looks away. Before you can help yourself, you point out, “Your Greek is horrible, by the way.”

“Well, I haven’t had time to find a teacher.”

____

“I will leave this sad excuse for a city, just for a few days,” Sieghild promises that night, her eyes on the fire but you can see her soul reaching for her shield.

“Do you think it is safe?”

“Who should I fear? The few Saxons smart enough to train like Arabs? The last remnants of the once mighty Great Heathen Army?” She scoffs, her words intending to dismiss your fear even if she has just listed the reasons you worry for her life when she leaves.

“Neither would have any qualms about killing you.” You point out dryly.

The shieldmaiden rolls her shoulders, something akin to bloodthirst in her smile, “Let them try.”

“And I’m the foolish one.” You mutter around a roll of your eyes.

The woman chuckles quietly, “I told you I have some questions I need answered. You are not the only one with ties to the Gods, little one.”

“Never said that I was. Based on your tales, the sons of one of the most famous Völvas are at the gates, mother.” You quip dryly, reaching for the goblet of water and wishing you could call upon the Christian God and turn it into wine.

“The gates, little one?” Sieghild muses, and you frown at her in confusion over the rim of your cup. With a shrug, she explains, “I have seen a son of Aslaug going in and out of your little hut multiple times now.”

Shit. You cough abruptly when the water goes the wrong way, but play it off and look again at the flames.

“I have no idea who you are talking about.”

“Of course you don’t,” She teases, a strange weight in her voice. She stands up, reaching for her trusted shield and putting it at her back as she grabs one of the fur cloaks by you. You keep your eyes ahead, but feel her presence at your back, and hear her lighthearted voice, “Sometimes, I sit by myself and think how your mother must be screaming her head off at me from her Elysium.”

You laugh, and it feels light and free, craning your head back to look at the shieldmaiden. She places a heavy hand on your hair, rough fingers attempting to run through it; the gesture so reminiscent of your childhood.

“Why?”

“She had this beautiful little girl, blessed by the Gods, noble in blood and in heart,” She recalls, “And I turned that child into the mad woman that likes spending her evenings with Ivar the Boneless.”

You shake your head at her words, closing your eyes and resting the back of your head on her stomach.

“Of all the things I have done, you truly believe talking to a Varangian King would be what my mother would take issue with?” You ask her, and the shieldmaiden grumbles an agreement, remaining silent for a short while.

“I will be back soon. Be careful, yes?” You nod. Sieghild traces around the wound in your forehead and sighs, “Your Gods and mine keep you, little one.”

“Your Gods and mine, mother.” You answer with a small smile, the exchange as old as goodbye.

She leaves you to your thoughts with a firm kiss pressed to the crown of your head, and you stay there, by the fire, wondering what will happen when the Varangians leave.

But turns out you don’t have to think much about what will happen when the Vikings collect their prizes, when the Saxons retreat back to England, when you will be left with three hundred Greeks and nowhere to go and nothing to do but wait for death; for the talks are exceedingly long, and almost a week has passed and still the Vikings make camp in this city, still Stithulf meets with Varangians daily, still the Viking King makes his way with his crutch and his uneven steps to your door.

The King himself is a vexing contradiction. Cruel, arrogant, and explosive; like seldom you have seen, even if most of the time his vitriol is not directed at you. Yet dedicated, intelligent, and, at least sometimes, hinting at someone that wants to give but does not know how to.

He manages to make you despise him as easily as he makes you admire him, hate presence in your mind and find yourself missing his voice or his expressive eyes when he’s not there.

You were never one to bite your tongue, and even if pain clogs your throat your memories leave your lips with ease, but Ivar…Ivar gives pieces of himself away like crumbs that fall from his so tightly-clasped hands. It is as if he couldn’t stop himself from giving away those little pieces, but at the same time dismisses the truths and cracks in the armor as soon as you make a slight mention of them.

He tells you about his mother, of her love and because happiness cannot be remembered without the biting sting of pain, of her absence. He tells you of his vow to kill his mother’s killer, and the look in his Greek Fire-like eyes when he does gives you a more certain prophecy than the Gods’ at to what destiny holds for the shieldmaiden. He tells you of the boatbuilder, of the man that did so much to make him who he is today, and if nostalgia paints the tales he weaves you say nothing.

Ivar now knows a lot about you as well, because when you meet daily with a stubborn man with no restrictions in his questions, you are bound to give away a lot of yourself. You tell him about the Christians of Attica, of their flames lapping at your legs and back, and if he understands a little more of your darkness then so be it. You tell him of Sieghild and her ways, of years at her side, of being taught how to wage and stop war, of her tales of this land so far away from where you were it seemed like a different realm. You tell him of life under the sigil of Persephone, you tell him secrets you have not dared tell a soul before, of the woman in the red veil and her warm darkness.

When you see him wince for the third time since he has sat down today, and hear the barely-there grunt of pain, you hope he doesn’t take this as offense -your times near Kiev when you were growing up reminds you strikingly of how particular Varangians are when it comes to pain- and reach for a marked leather pouch in one of your bags.

Grabbing onto a reasonable piece of willow bark, you turn back to the Viking and extend your hand. His eyes go from your hand to your face, but surprisingly enough you are not that bothered by the cold distrust as you thought you should be.

“Chewing on it helps with pain.” Is all you tell him in answer to his silent question.

He takes it with the mistrust, the annoyed hesitation, that are in such a way his that you fear you would never be able to see the somewhat-narrowed eyes, the movement of the head, the piercing glare, without thinking of him any longer.

It takes a moment, and an exasperated lift of your eyebrows for the warrior to finally bite into the softened bark. After a moment, because of course he would, the Viking asks, “How did you know?”

“I have to be attuned to others’ pain to be a healer, Viking,” You answer simply, settling back in your seat and draping the cloak over your legs. “You have healers where you are from.”

“Usually they are Völur.”

You shake your head with a small chuckle, “I am not a seeress.”

“But your Gods speak to you.”

You frown, “Scarcely of the future. The sight I have is regarding…the past, or sometimes present. Related to death, as per my Gods’ realm.”

In all his stubbornness, there’s a hint of fearlessness, more than a hint of courage; that almost whisper to you what he will ask for way before the words are to leave his lips.

The Viking stands up with a small grimace, and leaning on his crutch stands before you, “Prove it.”

“Are you certain?” You ask, again already aware of the answer he will give. When he nods, you take a deep breath and toe off your simple sandals. If the Viking takes note of the strange choice to have your bare feet on the cold ground, he does not mention it.

You stand as well, for a moment feeling Eleusis’ warm grasslands underneath your feet instead of the cold wood of a Scandinavian home, and face the Viking.

He holds himself still, so much so that you may for a moment confuse him with a marble statue. One that you can choose to admire or to break with a single push.

With the closeness, looking up at the cruel and handsome visage of Kattegat’s King, you realize what the pull of darkness you noticed surrounding him when you first saw him was.

Past the bloodthirst, past the cruelty and the vitriol; you catch a glimpse of something else.

A whisper not unlike the one that so long ago, when Sieghild offered to take you to the Danes, told you to await a few days in Sicily. That same night the news on the Saracen warriors threatening Athens with an onslaught of raids reached your ears, and instead of sailing North you returned to Greece.

Your eyes meet his, and a strange familiarity reaches you like a memory, like the phantom caress of a worn piece of silk over cold skin.

“You died, not long ago. You crossed into the realm of death and came back, and not only then, even in the womb the Gods debated your survival. Chosen by Hades.” The last words leave your lips in Greek, realization settling within you as you speak. You force your tongue back to his language when you continue, “You survived all those times because the Gods were not done with you and you know this, but you are not certain what the purpose they spared your life for is.

Without thinking, you move even closer, your head tilted back to stare at his pale eyes.

Your voice is a whisper in itself when you promise, “Your Gods have heard you beg to know the reason behind your pain, Ivar.”

There’s a flare of anger in his eyes, a snarl forming in his lips and they are the only warnings you have before the Viking’s hand closes around your throat.

You are dragged closer, rough fingers clawing at your neck and you cannot keep your mouth from opening in a gasp, your hand uselessly tugging at the King’s arm.

But you can still breathe, you notice past your panicked breaths. You feel your mouth dry, your heart quicken, but you do not fight back, even if your scared mind begs you to.

“Sieghild.” You whisper. You are not certain why you speak so lowly, but something tells you that you should.

The woman turns to you, and when her footsteps stop as she realizes what you wanted her to see, it seems the whole forest freezes. The wind doesn’t rustle the leaves, the birds do not sing, the distant stream stops its course.

It all seems to hold its breath alongside you, waiting for the injured beast’s move.

“Do not move,” Sieghild advises, “Do not cower or it will attack.”

You tighten your hand around the bow and stare back at the lynx’s wild eyes with a courage you do not have.

When the King leans even closer, you feel like a young girl holding a bow and praying the beast does not attack. Praying it mistakes your relentlessness with ruthlessness, and thinks twice about harming you.

“You will keep your visions to yourself, Priestess.”

And it’s the arrogance, the pride, the command, what gets the blood under your skin to a boil. You may not be able to overpower him, but the very Underworld may welcome you home before you bow down to a brute.

Your hand finds his wrist, nails digging lightly at the skin as you meet his gaze with the defiance not even the constricting rules of Attica could extinguish.

You reply to his threat with narrowed eyes. “You will get your hand off me, Viking.”

Surprisingly enough, he does, but keeps his burning eyes on yours and still towers above you.

“You asked.” You remind him. Because you have to swallow down other words, other reminders. You obeyed.

“How are you so sure it’s not the Norns telling you this? How does this not make you a Völva?” He asks, and past the venom and the volatility there’s a genuine question, you like to think.

“Maybe they are, maybe both our Gods are one and the same, but take different names,” You offer, “But I am not one of your seeresses, Viking. I am Hiereia.”

___

Hi! Thank you so much for reading! I’m sorry I wasn’t very regular, but now I’m gonna be. Probably Saturdays or Sundays are gonna be the days I post, btw.

I know I’m taking my sweet ass time getting to the abduction part of the abduction myth lol, but I hav my reasons. Or maybe I just like to ramble, and my stories do the same, who knows.

Anyways, just wanted to say I appreciate you all so much for reading! It really means a lot to know that people are reading this and liking it.

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar x reader #vikings imagine #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist #νοσταλγία

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gamesception · 4 years ago

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The Promised Neverland is kind of really good, actually? I mean, yeah, I’m late to the party as usual, but I just binged the first season of the anime, and then the manga from that point on (the site I was on didn’t have any of the second season, but apparently it diverges from the comic and gets bad anyway, so maybe just read the comic to begin with). And, I mean, spoilers, obviously, but I’m going to get into some extremely major spoilers here so if you haven’t read it or if you’ve only seen the first season of the anime maybe skip this post and read the manga, but...

...

I’ve tried and failed to write a big long post about all the ways it’s so good, how the main three characters are each so compelling, how its pitch dark but not cynical or misanthropic, with mortal stakes but not gore-porny, positive and optimistic without being trite or naïve, how choosing Emma out of the main three to be the primary protagonist and viewpoint character keeps the story from becoming a masculine militaristic power fantasy, how the antagonists are treated as characters and not just monsters - even the ones that are literal monsters, about how the story never supports or glorifies the idea of sacrificing the weak so that the strong can survive, about how empathy and understanding and a chance for peace are extended to every single villain without putting a burden to forgive on victims and without ignoring the need to fight those who refuse the offer of peace and uphold the status quo, how the story opposes oppressive hierarchies at every turn - not just those the monsters use to control the human children at the farms, but also how the monster elites use access to human meat to controller the lower social classes of monster society, and even to an extent within the human resistance.

But there’s just way too much to talk about to get it all into one big giant post, and I don’t have the stamina for a big extended ongoing project right now - or else I’d return to one of the like 12 I have on hold.

But, like, to pick just one thing....

ok, so eventually we learn what the monsters are and why they eat people. They’re a weird sort of organism that can temporarily take on the characteristics of things they eat. Eat a bird and grow wings, eat a bug and grow an exoskeleton, eat a human and gain a humanoid body and the intelligence to become self aware, learn language, form societies - for a while. But if they go too long without eating people, then they lose their minds and revert to a bestial form. In order to save the humans, the resistance leader Minerva plans to wipe out the monster society altogether. After all, they literally have to eat humans to continue being people, there is no possibility of peace.

Protagonist Emma, though, has seen not just the horrific human farms and their cruel and corrupt rulers, but also their towns and settlements, their families and children. She was even saved at one point shortly after her escape by friendly monsters who opposed the farm system, and even though it seems impossible, she wants to save both the humans and the monsters.

A more typical show, at least among those with premises as dark as The Promised Neverland, wouldn’t take Emma’s side in this. She would be forced to ‘grow up’ and face the fact that she can’t save everyone. Her naivety would get someone killed to break her heart and teach her to be hard and cruel as if those things are virtues. Or, more likely, she wouldn’t be the viewpoint character to begin with, she’d be a side character whose ideals would get herself killed in order to elevate the male characters’ angst and justify their violence. Either way, the message would be “Emma’s ideals were unrealistic and could never survive contact with the harsh reality of the world.”

TPN instead takes Emma’s Side. She finds monsters who maintain a humanoid body and intelligence without eating humans, and they’re able to spread that trait to the rest of monster society while the humans all escape to the human world. Now, as much as I don’t like the grimdark ‘there is no peaceful option’ hypothetical version of the story, this development could have been handled pretty badly. Like, just reading it like that, it sounds like the story raised a big moral dilemma and then chickened out of it. But that’s really not how it comes off while you’re reading it, for a couple reasons.

First of all, Emma meets the non-human-eating monsters early in the story, long before we get the explanation of how monsters in general work. So by the time we learn that the monsters must eat humans to maintain their self identity, the audience already knows that there are exceptions and that an alternative exists. The story never sets this up to be a moral dilemma in the first place, so when the issue is bypassed it doesn’t feel like it’s undercut itself.

More importantly, though, is the thematic & metaphorical content. Because the monster society is a pretty explicit metaphor for unjust human societies, and monsters represent the people who make up such societies. Not just the aristocrats who benefit from the unjust society, or those who directly enforce and uphold it, but also regular people. People insulated just enough from the suffering and death that their lives are built on that they can turn a blind eye to it, but aware enough of their complicity in that suffering that they construct excuses to justify their part in it, and by proxy excuse those at the top who actually benefit from and shaped the society as it is. People living lives simultaneously just comfortable enough to keep them docile, but precarious enough that they’re too caught up with struggling to maintain the tenuous grasp on the lives they have to feel like they can work towards anything better. Monster society in TPN is a cage built out of the corpses of humans cattle, but built to imprison and enslave the monster civilians who eat them.

Hanging the story on the fantastical element of monster biology would divorce it from that essential metaphor while also endorsing an outright genocidal worldview, and TPN explicitly calls out the plan to wipe out the monsters altogether as just that - genocidal. It never even pretends to entertain the notion that the audience should accept that plan as the right choice, even while it doesn’t condemn Minerva for pursuing it. When Emma is proposing her plan to Minerva, the deal she strikes with him is ‘I will try to make my peaceful solution happen, and if I succeed then you cancel your plan to wipe out the monsters’. Minerva is eventually shown to be lying when he makes that agreement, but Emma isn’t, and note the if there. If Emma’s plan fails, then she - and thus the narrative - accepts that Minerva’s plan to save the children is still better than leaving things as they are, even if it means wiping out all the monsters. After all, the society IS monstrously unjust, and even the lower classes within that society ARE complicit in that injustice.

Minerva’s problem isn’t even presented as a matter of him hating the monsters too much to see a route to peace with them. The story doesn’t frame the conflict between Minerva’s and Emma’s plans as hate vs. love or revenge vs. forgiveness. It’s instead more of ‘hierarchy and division bad, mutualism/openness/relying on each other good’. The point is to show how Minerva’s role as a figurehead who believes he has to project strength to uphold the hope that the other humans have placed in him has worn away his ability to rely on others or to be open to alternatives they offer, leaving him with rigid and inflexible thinking.

So when Minerva learns about the monsters who don’t need to eat humans, he doesn’t see an opportunity for a better outcome - potentially even an easier outcome since he doesn’t have to make enemies of the entirety of monster society - rather he sees a threat to his plan to starve the monsters back into an animalistic state.

And if that whole subplot isn’t explicit enough, Minerva’s internalized need to project strength also results in his physical body wasting away in secret from a condition he believes to be untreatable, but the moment he finally breaks down and admits he needs help Emma is able to point to a solution, one that again doesn’t come across as a cop out because again it takes the form of another character the audience was already introduced to a long time ago.

In a story arc that the second season of the anime adaptation apparently cut entirely, wow the more I hear about anime season 2 the worse it sounds. And after the first season was so good....

...

Anyway, I tried to pick just one thing and this post still turned into a colossal gushing word cascade, and there are so many other elements to talk about. Like how The ‘Mothers’ and ‘Sisters’ are menacing villains with seemingly no empathy for the children, but when Sister Krona realizes she’s lost the power struggle with Isabella she leaves the kids tools to help them, and then when Mother Isabella realizes the children have escaped, she covers up the route they used in order to buy them a little extra time to get away. It’s these little touches - just as much as the short backstories that follow them - that show us how, while they might uphold the system out of fear for their own lives, and might have rationalize their part in it in order to live with the horrible things they’re doing, the mothers and sisters don’t actually hate the children. Knowing that makes it believable when in the end Isabella does turn on the system, and every single one of the other mothers and sisters join her.

The bit when the fighting is mostly over and she tells the Mother at the house “it’s over, now we can just love them�� and the other woman breaks down crying is so sad and human, it makes me tear up thinking about it..

Like I said, all the villains are characters, not just monsters. They all have motivations for the horrific things they do - sometimes irrational, often selfish, but not even the most unforgivable of the monsters are just evil for evil’s sake.

Again, I’m rambling. It’s just... I’m used to these sorts of pitch dark dystopias being, for lack of a better term, kinda fashy in their messaging? Or at the very least deeply cynical and misanthropic and just kind of mean spirited. And TPN is so completely the opposite of that, in so many ways.

#tpn spoilers #tpn #the promised neverland #anyway yeah it's pretty good #though again apparently the second season of the anime falls of the rails #like from reading reactions today #it seems season 2 drops or completely flubs literally everything I go into in this post #don't watch it #i haven't #and feel better off for it #edited because I misremembered a couple things #like the 'we can just love them' line comes after the fighting not before #the point remains though

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gmariam19 · 4 years ago

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Hi, friends! I hit a follower milestone not too long ago - thank you thank you thank you! Like I did for some other milestones, I wanted to share some of my writing. So here is the first chapter of my big WIP, the one I laid out almost a year ago, the one where Big Things Happen to Poe and Finn Does Big Things, the one that got stuck several times but is now moving nicely thanks to NaNoWriMo. (I’ve added another 10k already - and it’s only halfway through November! Yay!) It’s not much--a long introduction, really. But there is so much going on in this story, I can’t wait to finish it and share it! So thank you - and enjoy! There is more below the break - and more to come! :) EDIT: This story is now posted! It is called Reclaim the Stars and can be found on AO3 HERE! Thank you for reading!

Chapter One

Poe Dameron is bored.

There are at least a dozen different things he should do, from reviewing the latest intelligence data to the briefing with Connix he keeps putting off; from going over the maintenance specs on the two Y-wings they'd found abandoned on Dantooine (and wouldn't he rather be working on ships instead of always reading about them) to the tactical, medical, and supply reports for their new base of operations. And that doesn't even include the constant stream of communication with the New Republic and various other planetary governments that Poe dislikes because he's terrible at it, lacking the patience and tact necessary for sensitive diplomatic discussions.

There is always something to do now that the war is over, and yet sometimes Poe wants nothing to do with it. It had been good at first, in the heady days after Exegol when they'd been so relieved to finally stop fighting, ready to move on and rebuild the galaxy they'd fought so hard to preserve. The galaxy had believed in them, had listened to them, because they'd destroyed an entire Sith Fleet, hadn't they? Leia Organa had been telling them for years that they were in danger; she'd been more right than anyone could have possibly imagined, and it was her Resistance that had saved them.

And yet, six months later, it's as if the galaxy has already forgotten the lessons of the past. After skirmishes with both the Resistance fleet and the New Republic, the First Order finally surrendered, and every day it seems a new treaty is being signed somewhere to ensure peace. In most parts of the galaxy, planets are rebuilding, and that peace seems to be slowly settling. Yet the one thing they need most now is the one thing no one will even consider. They don't need more diplomats, or treaties, or promises to sign more treaties with more diplomats; they need security, and no one will listen to him.

Poe isn't bored; he is frustrated.

The New Republic is still slow in pulling itself together, has been since the destruction of the Hosnian system. The fall of the First Order has splintered it even more as some systems call for a more central government to bring stability to the galaxy, while others maintain they will remain independent. It's the same argument, the same players; an endless cycle, it seems, of war and peace.

The galaxy doesn't need a central set of governing principles—recent history has proven the near impossibility of such a thing. Better to step back and let memories of oppression fade. Yet the discord between so many opposing philosophies after the fall of the Empire had allowed the First Order to settle in the Unknown Regions and slowly build its fleet, as well as its power. That can't be allowed to happen again.

Poe believes more than anything that now is the time to put in place new organizations to maintain security in the galaxy. He isn't calling for a governing military power; both the Empire and the First Order showed that military strength could be defeated. No, they need people in the Outer Rim, and the Unknown Territories, even Wild Space, guarding them against another Exegol, another Sith Fleet. It had been too easy for Palpatine to disappear into deep space and spend decades rebuilding. The New Republic needs to make sure it never happens again. Poe has been suggesting it for months, has volunteered to lead a division of the New Republic Navy devoted to patrolling the borders of deep space and gathering intelligence. Yet no one bothers to listen anymore, and they’ve found little support outside of a handful of allies who scraped together a few starfighters and a small cruiser for them.

It will happen again if there is no one to stop it. They know that something is happening out there already. They are rumors of entire villages being wiped out on distant worlds, and Poe had hoped that after Exegol, their word would be taken seriously. Apparently, that isn't the case; the New Republic is turning a blind eye yet again. Small villages on backwater planets apparently aren't worthy of concern.

It has been weeks since Poe has been up in his X-wing, and he misses it, wishes he was back in the cockpit making a difference, even if it's only recon and intelligence gathering. But more than that, he wishes the Senate would listen to him before another First Order springs up from the birthplace of the old.

Poe spends the morning helping set up more rooms in their new base, an impersonal prefab monstrosity some Senator had sent over as a thank-you gift to the freedom fighters who had saved the galaxy from a fleet of Sith Star Destroyers. Sure, they aren't sharing quarters in a cave any more, or sleeping in tents, but there is something about it that feels different, almost wrong. Maybe he isn't used to something so permanent, this symbol of victory— or of life moving on when he feels stuck.

Maybe it's too much like a consolation prize, a way to get them to stop talking about new threats when the galaxy wants to forget the old. The building reminds him of everything that needs to be done but isn't, everything that is happening and yet being ignored, and sometimes he is tempted to go back to the cave. He needs ships and people, not bricks and mortar.

After lunch Poe forces himself to find Connix and Kin and sit through the briefing. There is no news on Poe's latest appeal for funding the proposed Sentinel program. The criminal gangs that have grown in the vacuum of the First Order's sudden withdrawal are growing bolder and the Senate doesn't seem to be doing anything about them either. The New Republic is still a struggling morass of governments who can't agree on a damn thing, other than the Resistance is getting mouthy and needs to step back and let them handle it now. Some days it feels as hopeless as fighting the First Order. How had Leia done it, after the fall of the Empire?

Kin starts to go over his intelligence reports, but Poe stops listening and stares out the window, his leg bouncing restlessly. He tosses a speeder bolt from his pocket up in the air and resists the urge to spin around in his chair like a cadet. He thinks he hears something about another village attack, about Vi Moradi, about something going down on Nar Shadda, but he is too distracted.

Connix begins to go over the state of their new headquarters—it has only been a week since they moved in—and says something about a volcanic eruption on the other side of the moon that is threatening to rain down fire monkey piss. Poe frowns, wondering if he's heard her right. "What?" he asks. "Did you say fire monkey piss?"

"Yes, General," she replies.

"Is that a real thing?"

"Of course it is. From the volcano."

"What volcano?"

"There is no volcano," she tells him, shaking her head with a smile. "But it got your attention, didn't it?"

"Sorry," he says. "Kind of distracted, I guess."

Connix exchanges a look with Beaumont Kin, who shrugs and goes back to his datapad. She smiles, which Poe knows is her way of softening the coming blow. "Why don't you take a look at the Y-wings, sir? Commander Pava said she's making good progress. The Falcon should be back soon."

Damn, she knows him too well. He jumps up with a sheepish grin and leaves as fast as he can. Only to be kicked out of the landing area by Jess, then the maintenance area by Rose, and even the medical area by Dr. Khurana. So he finds BB-8 and goes for a walk, trying to work off the restless energy that is plaguing him that day. If he's honest, it’s been building for weeks, and it started not long after Finn left.

Finn is currently on his way back from an extended mission with Chewbacca, their official goal to search for other Stormtroopers who defected from the First Order after the surrender. In truth, they are the Resistance's unofficial eyes and ears at the borders, making contacts with every operative they can, gathering the intelligence they need to maintain the borders when the New Republic won't. They are the beginning of the proposed Sentinel program. Poe did the same thing before Finn had left, and Finn before him; they agreed to take turns, alternating their time away so that one of them is always around to deal with the New Republic.

Unfortunately, it also means they have barely seen one another for the last six weeks, and Poe misses Finn—going out on missions with him, leading with him. They make a good team, and in the weeks and months since Exegol, they've grown even closer. Not as close as Poe would like, but maybe someday. He thinks about it more and more, wonders if Finn feels the same. Of course, they’d have to be on the same planet at the same time. And one of them would have to work up the courage to say something to the other. Poe’s still too scared to lose what he does have, so it probably won’t be him.

At least Finn finally told Poe that he is Force sensitive. It makes so much sense—so many things had clicked into place—that Poe often wonders how he hadn't figured it out himself. Finn is a natural leader, a brilliant fighter, and so in touch with his sense of self that of course it is the Force guiding him. He will be a great Jedi—maybe not a warrior, as Finn seems less interested in fighting now, but he could be a teacher, a leader.

Rey is training him, to help him understand his powers and learn some basic techniques. He trains in addition to his duties with the Resistance, and Poe worries about him. He feels like sometimes Finn struggles to find a balance between the two and hopes Rey isn't pushing him too hard. She went with Finn and Chewie, to continue working with him.

The Falcon has been gone for two weeks. They ran into a few remnants of the First Order, but nothing major, and Poe isn't sure if they've gathered any important intel other than what they felt safe transmitting. They are returning several days early, and Poe is glad. He's missed them all, though if he admits it to himself, he's missed Finn more than anything, maybe even flying. He's grown so used to having Finn by his side over the past year, through the mission to Exegol, and as co-Generals, that he's felt almost incomplete the last six weeks.

And that’s the real problem: Poe is distracted. Finn is coming back, and Poe can't concentrate. It probably doesn't say a lot about his leadership skills, or his emotional state, but it's definitely the issue, and he continues around the lake again, talking with BB-8 about Finn and Rey and how much they have to catch up on when they return. If he complains about the New Republic and their lack of organization and support yet again, BB-8 has the good grace to listen and agree when he's already heard it a hundred times.

He goes around the entire lake a second time, ignoring the sun and the heat and the need for some water, and is about to start a third time when the little droid beeps excitedly and tells him that the Falcon has landed. Poe can't hold back a grin, and they hurry to the landing area as fast as they can.

The Falcon is in its usual place, and Chewbacca is coming down the ramp with some bags. Poe greets him warmly while BB-8 asks impatiently about Finn and Rey. Chewie tells them Finn's gone to find Poe.

"Only Connix said she kicked you out of your own briefing," says a voice behind them, and Poe turns to find Finn standing there, hands on his hips and a crooked grin on his face. "Because you couldn't concentrate."

Poe grins in response, closing the gap between them to pull Finn into a warm embrace. Maybe they aren't reuniting after a battle, but it has been a long time and Poe can't help it. He missed Finn and is relieved to see him—and Chewbacca, of course—unharmed when he knows anything could happen along the borders of unknown space. And he likes the feeling of Finn in his arms too much to resist holding him for a little longer than he probably should.

"Welcome back, buddy," he says, finally stepping back, but still holding onto Finn's arm.

"That's General Buddy," Finn laughs, and Poe rolls his eyes.

"That joke is getting old, you know," he tells him. "How are you? Where's Rey?" Apparently, that is the wrong thing to ask, because Finn's smile immediately disappears. Poe feels his stomach drop; has something happened to her? Why haven't they said anything?

"She's fine," Finn says, relaxing as he shakes his head. "You don't have to panic. She…well, she left. Went off on her own. Again."

Poe doesn't need the Force to know that Finn is upset about it, and in a way, he understands. Rey certainly does her fair share of running off by herself, headlong into danger, and often without saying anything. Having worked many solo missions himself, however, Poe can also understand why. Sometimes working alone is easier, with less responsibility, less chance of getting someone hurt or killed. Get in, get it done, get out.

And Rey had grown up alone, abandoned on Jakku for years, until Finn had appeared and quite literally dragged her out of her solitary existence. It makes sense that after so many years on her own, sometimes she needs to be by herself. And Poe understands that as well: though most people wouldn't believe it, he needs time alone almost as much as he needs to be with people. It is one reason why he's such a good pilot, because he likes spending time in the cockpit with his own thoughts. And BB-8, of course.

Finn, however, had grown up surrounded by other Stormtroopers, never having a minute to himself yet always alone in a system that discouraged individuality and attachment. Finn seems to crave contact and companionship, and though he understands when someone like Poe needs their space for a little while, Rey's stubborn desire to go off on her own without warning—or protection— is still something Finn finds frustrating even after all this time.

"I see," says Poe, though he doesn't know the first thing about it, other than Rey is gone, he hadn't got to say goodbye, and Finn is upset. "Well, I'm damn glad to see you, and I have all sorts of questions, but I won't bother you yet. Want to see your new room?"

Finn’s eyes light up and he smiles gratefully at Poe. "Yeah, I would. I'm sorry you had to handle the big move without me."

"It's not like we had a lot to move," Poe points out. "We were living in a cave, remember?"

Poe leads him down the path to the new building, set in a clearing not far from their expanded landing area. It is a large, three-story building, housing offices on the ground floor with crew quarters on the upper floors. Finn and Poe, as co-generals, have two of the larger rooms on the second floor. Poe guides him upstairs, shows him the code for the door, and motions him inside.

Finn stops a few steps into the room, gazing around with his mouth literally hanging open. They are in a large open area, with a sofa and chair along one wall, and a desk opposite. There is a small kitchenette tucked into the corner with table for eating, and a door leads to the single bedroom and private refresher. It is clean and new and bright, unlike any place they’ve ever lived. There is both wonder and gratitude in Finn’s eyes, and the look on his face right now is one Poe wishes he could see more.

“Are you serious?” Finn asks as he starts moving around, examining his new home. “This is all mine?”

“I’m not going to show you someone else’s room,” Poe laughs. “It’s all yours. it’s not much. It’s just a lot better than—”

“Living in a cave,” Finn finishes. “Or a ship. Or a tent. Poe, we’re in an actual building!”

“I know, buddy. It’s taken some getting used to, but it’s good.” He glances around and smiles. “And I’m right across the hall, if you ever need anything. Like a lesson how to use some of this stuff.” He gestures toward a small communications panel set into the desk.

“It’s perfect,” Finn says. “I can’t wait to get a good night’s sleep in here!”

Poe nods. “You’ll sleep like a baby—or you’ll miss the jungle so much you won’t sleep at all. I’ll let you get settled, maybe try out the fresher—it’s private, all yours.” Finn pumps his fist and Poe laughs again. “Think you’ll be up for a debrief later?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, give me an hour. Where should we meet?”

“Command center is on the ground floor, we either pull up chairs or move to the conference room. Is an hour enough?”

“More than enough,” Finn tells him. He turns and walks back to Poe, pulls him into another embrace. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Poe breathes him in, his heart skipping a beat at their closeness. It seems Finn being gone has definitely had an effect on Poe.

“You’re welcome,” he finally says. Finn steps back and Poe thinks the other man glances down at his lips before ducking his head with a smile. It’s probably wishful thinking, though. Poe has to deliberately look away from Finn’s mouth.

“It’s really good to see you,” Finn says.

“You too, buddy,” Poe says. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ll see you in an hour?”

Finn nods and Poe turns to leave. He really is glad to see Finn. He’s just not sure how to move forward now that Finn has returned.

#Finnpoe #Stormpilot #Finn #Poe dameron #My writing #WIP #Working title: Ruthless

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hobicomeholla29 · 4 years ago

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Shatter - Part 1 - JHS

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Genre: Angst/ Romance/ Fluff in the future

Word Count:3.9k

Warnings: Mentions of death/Mentions of wars/Mentions(hints) of depression/Mourning

Rating: PG13

A/N: Hey! Hey! Before I get into anything else I first have to that all the beautiful who helped me with checkin, beta reading and giving me fantastic feedback in general! @sugaa-sugaaa @spicykoreantatertots @nottodayjjk Thank you so so much for your words of support and for pushing me through to deliver a good piece for everyone!

That being said, This is a 2 shot! Please look forward to part 2!

THIS IS A REPOST. Cuz it wasn’t showing up in the tags.

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world, where humankind’s greed has lead planet earth to turn into a ball of dust, all Hoseok wants is a better and bright future, yet strong feelings and a positive mind doesn’t always cut it.

Masterlist

The early morning sky was filled with an eerie fog that threatened to smother anyone who didn’t wear the appropriate attire for being outdoors.

You stood straight; hands balled in tight fists. A mixture of emotions running through your body. Sadness, anger, helplessness, fear…

You were the only ones standing in the middle of the empty field, no one else daring to stand still and be surrounded by the suffocating drafts of air that carried large amounts of toxins –a consequence of humankind utilizing nuclear weapons in the past.

You remember stories being told about your ancestors taking long walks through lucious fields without sporting gas masks on their faces, just imagine enjoying the air in the atmosphere instead of fearing it.

Most parts of the beautiful earth that once existed were now wastelands, all thanks to what was called The Colossal War.

Civilization was anything but civilized after that, creating division and animosity between groups of people with different ideals.

Clans were created and with them the claiming of lands. Lands that provided resources for sustenance, yet the quick dwindling of resources and supplies made some clans selfish, refusing to barter with others and instead attempting to conquer their lands as well.

With bigger and stronger clans taking over the smaller and weaker ones, eventually only four major clans remained, the only exception being small factions that settled between the abandoned areas near the borders of each clan.

Some factions were harmless, only looking for a peaceful place to live, making them nomads, since they had to constantly move to avoid being forced to pledge to one of the four major clans. Others were rioters, ready to go against anything and anyone who posed a threat to their beliefs and wants.

During the long solars that came and went after The Colossal War, much had changed.

Technology, communication, transportation, settlements.

It had all changed, but you really couldn’t say it was all for good.

Technology had turned obsolete at a steady pace, leaving only a few gadgets that were still able to function without being saturated or losing signal without proper cell towers.

Most of them had been vandalized or burned to ashes, mostly to steal copper from the area.

The only remaining signal towers were those of glass recorders.

A glass recorder was the device that kept track of a person’s life.

Since The Colossal War in 3010, civil wars had been blowing up everywhere. Causing inconvenience in simple tasks like having troops return to a fallen soldier’s clan to inform their family about their passing.

A simple duty as this one might have worked back in 2020 but not in 3011.

If troops were sent back, they were at risk of running into an enemy faction and breaking into another battle.

Hence, in 3015, glass recorders were created.

A glass recorder was a device made out of bulletproof glass. Its interior was filled with cables and microchips that contained a person’s personal information, tracking and broadcasting an individual’s vital signs at all times. Constant long-ranged waves went from the glass recorder - to the signal towers around the globe - to the chip installed in the individual’s neck and back.

You could say its data sharing function was similar to the behaviour of olden times bluetooth connections, except that the only information it could send and receive was vital signs and identification details.

Many tried hacking them, attempting to rob information from the device and using it for ulterior motives, however they are designed with an auto destruction mode in case of hacking or death and their towers were heavily protected by troops from each clan.

Usually their sizes were similar to that of an old cellphone.

On one side there’s a knob, remarkably similar to what DJs back in the day used on their mixing boards. It acted as a switch between the different modes the glass recorder could be set on, them being Vitals, Information and Hologram. And on the other side there was a touchscreen, where vitals could be read and holograms could be activated.

There was also an XBS dock entrance on one side of the device. It was mostly used by the law enforcers by transferring any new information about an individual from their archives to the glass recorder, whether it was good or bad.

All of that information, including marital status, first degree relatives, occupation, date of birth and allergies could be found on information mode.

On vitals, details were given about their current health status and the sound of their heartbeat could be played.

And finally on hologram mode, you could see a three-dimensional scale of the owner’s body, making it easier to check for injuries or if any internal damage had been taken.

Besides glass recorders, communication had jumped back to messaging via written letters or oral messages sent via a messenger.

Any vehicles that had existed on the face of earth, had been overhauled.

Updated to cater to the usage it now provided to the arid ground.

Motorcycles, cars, buses, trucks and ships, all modified.

Additional exhaust pipes, thicker tires, dust shields, dredging machinery, artillery and artillery holders, were examples of things you had seen being mounted on different transports, including aircrafts.

As for yourself, you lived in a colony that had been forced to be part of one of the major 4 clans, The Jeon Clan.

The Jeon clan was strong, the Jeon clan was powerful, the Jeon clan was feared, the Jeon clan was blinded by its greed, the Jeon clan stood above everyone and if you refused their ways, then you refused living.

That’s how your small clan ended up under their command.

It was common to hear stories as an infant about how the Jeon clan conquered. They always portrayed the glorious stories of how leader -Jeon the 1st- had tirelessly battled large creatures and evil men to save small clans from their miserable lives, however in each capsule each family shared the story with their offspring as they remembered it best.

Meaning some stories were wonderful, while others were resentful memories and stories of how their clans had been forced to change their ways or how they had lost loved ones to the Jeon reign.

You were only 7 when it all happened.

You remember it so clearly, it felt like you were reliving it each time.

You stood in the middle of the large hangar, eyes searching left and right for your father.

Men and women ran all around, either towards shelter or towards the battle zone.

A military truck’s engine roared in the background, yet you couldn’t figure out which of the twenty something trucks near you had been brought to life.

You frantically ran in the opposite direction. You needed to find him, you needed to convince him not to go.

Running as fast as your short legs could take you, you tightly held on to the glass recorder in your hand.

Tears started prickling your eyes the longer it went without you being able to find him.

Two NSTV vehicles sped past you, swiftly followed by a caravan of men on choppers, armed to the teeth.

Luckily none of them seemed to be your father.

You were getting desperate.

All he had done was left a note on your bed with his glass recorder.

“My beautiful cyberflower, I love you so much. And because I love you, I must defend you. Papa might not be back for a while, but he will make sure that if he doesn’t come back at all, it is because he was able to create a better place for you to live in."

He promised he would never go, that he would stay no matter what.

That he wouldn’t do the same thing your mom did.

Leaving you behind was never the solution. You preferred having them both and figuring everything else out later than having none of them and still being lost.

Why was it so easy for them to leave you behind…?

You didn’t notice you had dropped to your knees, you didn’t notice the tears that cascaded from your face and you certainly didn’t notice how your mourning wail had halted all activities under the hangar.

All frozen in place, no one in the building could figure out why. How could the desperate cry of a child send shivers down their spine? How could it express without mistake, their inner thoughts and feelings.

They felt the grief and pain of having to put their lives on the line to give their loved ones a better future.

A future that should have been granted to them, but the Jeons thought differently.

Yet, your clearest memory from that day was the tight embrace that pulled you out of your dazed state.

The embrace that told you that even if everything didn’t turn out as you wanted, he would be there to walk you through it.

He would be there with that bright smile of his that cleared away all of your cloudy days.

A rundown metallic shed stood at a distance, it was probably used in the past by troops as a hideout, yet for several solars it had been a place you used for solace.

The location gave you a quiet place to think, a quiet place to run away to when everything got too hectic at the colony, a place to yell out of frustration. It was your place -even if it was on enemy’s territory.

However, today said shed felt smaller, its tall walls choking you, suppressing your lungs, no calm remained in it as the words that dropped from your lover’s mouth bounced from wall to wall. The echo made you feel like the words were mocking you by constantly repeating what he said.

"I must go, and you must stay.”

You knew you had heard word of people in the colony joining forces with others near you, to topple the Jeon clan.

Nonetheless, you figured it was just tittle-tattle.

Yet here you are standing in the middle of the building, right in front of your lover, who is spewing the same nonsense your father did so many solara ago.

"Is this a joke? ‘Cause I’m not laughing…"

You saw his hands clenched into fists in annoyance, he tried holding in his feelings, yet the frustrated sigh that left his lips sold him out quickly.

Deep down he knew you wouldn’t take the news lightly, that you would want to accompany him on this journey as well or avoid the whole thing in general. But if he let you, if you came along, his departure would have no meaning. He was leaving for you. He thought you would be more rational.That the conversation would last less than a fraction of a solar, but he stood corrected.

"I can’t stay here on my own. You can’t leave me just like that.” You were distraught. Your eyes searched for his, yet his gaze remained on the door you had used moments ago to enter the shed.

You needed to bring his mind back to you, to the present where you both still remained, you needed to keep him away from thoughts of the unknown future and the doom that could be.

Why was he trying to be person number three on your mourning list?

Your eyes remained on his, yet your fingers occupied themselves trying to find his glove-covered ones, the action making him look down at your entwined fingers.

His eyes seemed to soften at your actions and that alone helped you breathe easier. Deep down you knew that you had to stay back and wait for him, it would be the safest place for you, the colony was your home, but the news he dropped on you like a bucket of cold water had your common senses frozen.Why would he want to leave you so suddenly?

Maybe he no longer wanted this, maybe you were too much, maybe that promise he made solars ago about walking the path with you was too heavy and too much of a burden…

“You must stay, for me,” He said, “and for them.” His eyes dropped to your stomach, his free hand caressing the bump that had started forming not long ago.

“Hoseok…please…” You had to try at least one more time. If he still was that warrior at heart that you had once met, then he was certain to leave even with you crying rivers.

“I must go, my love. I have to be a part of this fight that will give our family the freedom that they deserve. The freedom that WE deserve.” His eyes glossed over, yet not one tear abandoned his eye. He was sure of his decision and nothing could stop him now.

“You don’t have to… A lot of men are already there."

"And I am sure they also have families and other reasons to be there. I will lend them a hand and they shall lend me one. We will fight for a better life and world, a better place to raise our offspring, a better place to grow old.” At this point in conversation, his eyes are boring into yours, yet there is no anger towards you. Only love, strong, heated, unwavering, caring and passionate love. There was certainly no way for you to fight against that.

For a split second, his eyes left yours, and you followed the movements of his left hand. Carefully, he pushed his hand into his pocket, retrieving a device that you were very familiar with.

His glass recorder.

“I- I can’t."

"It’s the only way for you to know my status… and if it ever comes to worse, you’ll know not to wait for me any longer.” He said as he placed it in your hand.

“Please stop talking like you are a dead man already!"

"Y/n-” You interrupted him mid-sentence. You were blabbing now. All your thoughts and fears spilling out at once.

“No! I don’t want to hear it! I don’t want you to go! I want you here with me, with our babies. If you tell the Chief he will let you stay. We are expecting! I can’t lose you; you are walking to your grav-"

"Y/N!” His sudden yell made you flinch, but nonetheless, you looked him in the eyes, only to find them filled with tears. Filled with fear but determination as well.

He was always like this, a young man with a mission. Fire in his eyes, determined to make this world a better place, even if it scared him to the core. He always said…

“There is no better way to deal with fear than to walk right over it…” Those stupid words he repeated everyday since you were 7. “This is me walking all over it. This is me putting you -putting them over my fear of what may be."

"I love you."

"And I love you, my beautiful cyberflower.” His hand grabbed yours, slowly bringing each one of them to his face and kissing your knuckles and palms softly.

“I’ll always return to you."

And so, you watched him ride his chopper towards the horizon.

His silhouette quickly disappeared in the darkness of the night.

Even though the light of the moon shone brightly, it felt dark around you, as if your clouds had returned with the sole departure of his bright smile.

Your hand squeezed the device he left behind, your grip getting stronger the further he drove and now you really wondered, "How is it so easy for everyone to leave me behind?"

150 solars and 149 lunars went by, yet nothing had changed.

Since the day Hoseok had left, your days consisted of nothing but worrying, eating, and visiting the shed.

An old steel bench was set outside of the old metallic building and just like any other day you’d visited, you sat on the edge of it, contemplating life and hoping today was the day Hoseok would return to you as he had promised.

As time flew by, you added this day to the list of other ones where your lover didn’t return and although you tried to remain as positive as possible, you couldn’t stop thinking about why life was so cruel? Why did any of you have to live through this? It certainly wasn’t fair. No one deserved to be forced to choose death if they didn’t choose what someone else wanted.

Since your great-grandparents’ days, the future was supposed to be glorious, beautiful, and bright. Technology was supposed to make everything better. But somehow it all turned to worse.

Pride, arrogance, and selfishness had created the horrible world that you now lived in.

People lost their lives as an exchange for a promise they never received.

They fought battles to free people who were slaves to their own fears and now this was the consequence of all that was done. What a sad life to live. What a horrible life to live.

You rubbed your stomach feeling your bump as it continued to grow. Time doesn’t stop for anyone, is what they say and your clear example is how close you are to being due.

The walk back to your clan’s colony was an easy 10-minute walk that could turn mortal if taken while distracted, hence you carried a machete in your boot.

Once you set foot on your colony’s official territory, you swiftly made your way to your family home capsule, ready to wash off the sorrow and go to bed as you would wait for the next solar to come.

Sadly for you, that hope disappeared the second you made eye contact with someone you didn’t wish to see at the moment.

His eyes caught yours and you saw a mix of emotions: sorrow, understanding, relief and worry, all conveyed to you in a single glance.

You knew what was to come, it was always the same dialogue, but you didn’t want to do this today.

Today you felt drowned, disappointed, you could feel that dark cloud that loomed over your head enlarging day by day.

"You know it’s not s—”

“Save it, Namjoon. I’m not a chil—"

“—But you are a carrying woman, who is walking carelessly to a place where no one can or will follow you.”

“I am not carele—”

“Y/N, shut up for once and put this through your thick skull!! Hendra is enemy territory!!”

And with that he left to his own family capsule, stomping all the way to the door and slamming it closed.

For the first time, you felt different and maybe it had something to do with the fact that Namjoon and your argument didn’t end in the usual monotonous sermon he always gave you, where he remained calm all the way and you rolled your eyes in annoyance.

The funny part about the entire thing was that you were cousins, and your family capsules were right beside each other, so you were sure you’d have to see his sour expression the following day.

Finally in your own capsule - the one you used to share with Hoseok, you took that shower that you daydreamed about and headed to your room.

Just like every night, you muted your room to the outside world, opting to listen to the broadcast of your beloved’s heartbeat.

It was the only thing that helped you sleep at night and somehow you felt as if it pacified the two progenies in you.

You didn’t know when or how it happened, but eventually 365 solars had gone by.

365 solars since the day of his departure and you weren’t getting any better at being without him.

You were now a mother of two. A dawn and a dusk. One born in the early morning and one almost 12 hours later.

So, you gave them names that matched their arrivals to this world, Dawn and Dusk.

All times prior to that day, you felt that once they arrived, there would be this large turning point in your life. That once you had someone who depended on you, your days would start to shift into something brighter, yet somehow, even after the arrival of your children, you felt almost no difference, bordering on saying that you might even felt worse.

Their faces were the perfect mix of your deoxyribonucleic acid and his. Two different beings creating harmony in the body of two newer ones.

Their father had left to give them a better future but, in the process, he had left a broken family behind. It felt incomplete and hollow and somehow you envied the blissful ignorance that your infants currently lived in. Not able to understand the sorrowful life that currently surrounded them.

Another 365 solars went by.

You still listened to Hoseok’s heartbeats every night. The glass recorder remaining as your sole companion in addition to your —now— toddlers.

The night remained quiet. You could barely hear the murmur of voices from the capsule near yours. If you were right, you were sure it was Namjoon and his wife, discussing the plan for retrieving meals for the clan the following morning.

You shifted on the foam mattress that only reminded you more of him. A very faint and almost gone notion of his scent wafting up from what used to be his pillow.

From afar you watched the two small bodies –lying on the second mattress in your room— inhale and exhale deep in their slumber.

They had —just like you— fallen asleep to the beat of the heart of a stranger you placed in front of them and made them call him father.

You loved them, every bit of them. Would do anything for them not to suffer, and maybe just then, in that moment, you understood a bit of Hoseok’s reasoning.

You toss and turn all of a sudden jerking awake from your slumber. You could not recall when you had fallen asleep, so your mind remained disoriented for a short minute, trying to grasp your surroundings. Your heavy eyes roamed around the room, picking up on every detail, the babies were still asleep, the clock read 3AM and the glass recorder wasn’t beating…

THE GLASS RECORDER WASN’T BEATING!

Violently, you pulled the sheets off your body, grabbing the device as soon as your hands were close enough to grab it.

“Why are you not beating? Why are you not broadcasting? What the fu—”

And it hit you like a train… but you didn’t believe it, you couldn’t believe it.

You shook it and twisted the knob and switched it to hologram mode, but it wasn’t working and you didn’t know what to do, your hands were shaking, your thoughts were jumbled…

“This can’t be happening.”

And when a fake solar illuminated your mind, you quickly turned around to plug it in to your old computer, however, the universe had other plans for you and without announcement the device cracked.

You watched it crack little by little, extending all around the recorder, slowly marking the beautiful device with horrible lines that marked its ending, it didn’t stop until it was no longer graspable and all that was left behind was crystal dust in your cupped hands.

You didn’t hear when Namjoon and his wife entered your room or when your kids were taken out of there. Your sobs alerting 3 capsules nearby of the sorrowful occurrence of the night.

It was the worst type of Deja Vu, because just like your mother and father, you’d never see him again…

“Hoseok…”

Thank you so much for reading part one of this 2 shot! Hopefully it didn’t scare you off for part 2!

#btsnoonanet #btsghostie #bangtanscenery #castlebangtan #hobi x reader #hoseok x reader #bts x reader #hoseok x poc #hobi x woc #bts x woc

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are Space Orcs, “Declaring War.”

Hope you guys have a great day,and I hope you enjoy the story.

“There is only one way that we are ever going to finish this!” The human slammed their fist down atop the table and stood, “There is only one way we are ever going to finish this, and that is to turn our eyes on the home of our enemy. This will not be stopped until we bring hellfire to their home planet! And show them what it means to attack humanity and the GA!”

There was uproar around the council chamber as representatives took to their feet in open protest or support to such a plan. Yelling grew up around them until no one could be heard over the din.

It was only the gavel -- bestowed on the Rundi chairwoman as a gift from one of the human counselors -- that was able to silence the crowd.

“Silence!”

The room quieted only slightly as the chairwoman glanced around at the council chamber, “This is not a decision we should rush blindly into, counselor. This is not a time for blind anger, this is not a time for revenge. This is a time to think carefully and strategically. While the majority of this council supports you in the war effort, we do not support blindly charging in after those who oppose us.”

“With all due respect chairwoman, that is not what we are suggesting either. I am suggesting the logical course of action. The Burg have attacked our homeworld, earth, and it has attacked the groomm homeworld, and if what the Kree are saying is correct, and they were not involved in this attack, which i still doubt, they have come dangerously close to their homeworld as well. They have proven that they have no regard for the rules of intergalactic combat, and if they are going to disregard the rules, they should be treated in accordance.”

“We do not discard the rules just because others will not follow them, counselor.”

The human counselor stood, “To the contrary. The Burg were never a part of the GA, and while they were afforded the protections as an ally of the state, they have since discarded those rights. All laws regarding GA warfare are predicated on the idea that others, even enemies will understand the importance of these codes of combat. No nuclear or fission weapons, no planetary destroying weapons, no intervening with the function of another solar system’s star, and no direct attacks on civilians or a genesis homeworld.”

She stood and looked down at the other delegates, “Well the burg have attacked two of our homeworld without consequence. They have proven the use of weapons capable of destroying entire fleets, and if the technology is developed, entire worlds. Commander Vir had to die for us to gain that knowledge, and I will not have his sacrifice be in vein.”

There was a shout of agreement from some of the crowd most enthusiastically from the Celzex and the drev.

“I approve the human message.” THe Drev councilor said, standing.

The chairwoman turned to look at the Drev, “I thought your people were not supposed to go to war based on the idea of revenge.”

The Drev shook his silver head, “While we considered the commander one of our own, that is not what we are saying. The burg tactics during battle were dishonorable and cowardly. They went behind our backs to use technology as a means to their ends instead of pure skill. They have proven themselves to be cowards. They have attacked our people on their home planets.” He looked around at the others, “On our planet, though war is not personal, if someone walks into MY house and slays MY brother, than I WILL declare war, because if he gets away with it once without consequence, he will do it again. The Burg have proven time and time again that they can misbehave on the galactic stage and face no consequences.” He turned in a wide circle all four hands out, “And I say that ends here. If they want to attack our homes, let us invade ours. If they want to strike at our morale, let us strike at theirs. If they want us to suffer, than let us show them the meaning of suffering.”

A cheer rose up from part of the room given heartily by the Celzex and especially Lord Celex, who sat on his pedestal next to the Drev commander -- the two of them having gotten along so well in the past.”

Things were hushed for a moment and then one of the Vrul leaders stood, “A stirring speech to be sure, Sentinel, but let us look at this in a more logical manner. Taking a war to them would be both impractical and costly. The resources we would alone are astronomical. yes , it is sad that we lost Commander Vir, and it is also sad that we lost Dr. krill, a member of my own species, but one man and a single ship is not worth a war.”

A tesraki from across the room snorted, “You are delusional if you think the burg will think the same. What happens when they decide to invade your planet. Do you wish us to just stand idly by and not waste resources.”

The Vrul stood straighter, “Do not take us for fools, we all know that the terasaki simply want war to be able to profit from it.”

The Tesraki stood fists clenched, “I would watch what comes out of our mouth, counselor! For I have thought this through where you have not. If we do not strike at the Burg where they are weak, then they will return,and next time it will be my home planet, my children, and my grandchildren…. But of course you wouldn’t know about that would you, being from a species that systematically slaughters their own people when they aren't useful anymore!”

The gavel slammed down again filling the room with it’s ringing, “That is enough! I will not have. Speciesist sentiments spouted in my counsel chambers. You all should be ashamed.” The counsel woman stood from her seat, “I, and the Rundi people tend to agree with humanity and the Drev. The Burg have gone to far, and they must have a punishment equal to their attacks. If nothing we should work to ride to their home planet and threaten them directly. If they do not see the logic in surrendering, than we shall move forward with plans.” She turned to look at the Vrul counselor, “Your people are not being asked to join us or even support us. You are simply being asked to accept our decision and not interfere with the war going forward.”

There was more muttered agreement around the hall.

The GA had just declared war on the Burg nation.

***

Sunny stood alone on the Tarmac. This part of the military base was old, and no longer much used. It had rained earlier in the day leaving the tarmac wet and filling the air with a fresh cleansing smell that scrubbed out the holes at the base of her neck and her throat.

She looked down at her handiwork.

It wasn’t so bad if she did say so herself, though she hardly doubted the GA would let her fly it… not that she planned on asking for permission.

“It was a ship, sort of. One that she had reclaimed from an old junkyard and had dragged out here to fix. Once upon a time someone had declared the thing unusable, but she knew better, and as a talented engineer she had proven them wrong. It wasn’t a large ship, mind you. It might hold up to thirty people if given the chance, though she didn’t see that being much of a possibility. This was something she found she would probably do alone.

She sighed and turned to look at the fading sky, head tilted back. In one hand she held her long spear, and in the other she hald a short spear…. Made once for someone else.

She sighed and barely heard it as the footsteps approached from behind, pausing at her shoulder.

“IS this what it felt like for you?” She wondered

Cannon shifted where he stood, “Maybe a little.”

“I miss him.”

“I know.”

“Feels like I can’t breathe… Its cold.”

“I know.”

She turned to look at her brother, towering a good three feet over her, “I have to do this.”

Cannon didn’t look convinced.

“You know I have to.”

“That’s what mother said.”

Sunny went stiff her eyes falling on him.

He sighed, “I just want to make sure you don’t turn into her, which…. Is why I am coming with you.”

She stopped in surprise, and he smiled, “Don’t think I don’t know what you are planning, and I want to join…. In fact, there are a few other people who insisted on coming too.” He glanced over her shoulder, and she spun on her heels, watching as a group of figures marched up the tarmac.

She recognized a good few of them, Narobi, Ramirez, Maverick, Conn, being those in the first line.

They walked up and Ramirez gave her a sort of half smile, “Mav and I thought you could use some muscle.”

Narobi nodded, “and someone to keep this hunk of junk in the air” Conn ignored the greetings and floated past her, “This thing is trash.” he commented looking over her ship.

Sunny frowned but ignored him mostly.

When the group of them stepped aside, she was surprised to find Katie marching abroad with a large suitcase, “You idiots are going to need a doctor if this is going to work.” She turned, “Also, I brought someone to pilot this thing.”

Sunny’s heart immediately fell at the thought. It was true she needed a pilot, but thinking about that reminded her acutely of how Adam was missing.

The young man walked forward, even younger than Adam, no more than a boy, but she recognized him as one of the recruits who had been involved in the last engagement with the burg. He raised a hand in salute face serious, “Lt. McCaster at your service.” He paused, “I know I cant fly like the commander did, but I learned a lot from him, so I hope it will be enough.”

He stepped past.

There were two more figures left, standing outside on the field. They were both wearing uniforms though something seemed rather off about all of it. Hats covered their eyes.

Sunny looked down in confusion, until one of the figures raised her head to look sunny in the face.

Bright grey eyes and honey blond hair.

“Martha!”

She put a finger to her lips, eyes serious, “I can’t stay long.” She said quietly, and we had to sneak onto base.” She paused to look at Sunny, “I wish I could go with you, but I have to stay here…. I have too many other people to take care of.” But I brought someone with me who I couldnt talk out of coming.”

Sunny looked over, and watched as the other pulled back his hat.

She barely recognized Thomas with his hair cut so short.

“Keep him safe, I don’t want another one of my sons gone.” She looked up at Sunny, “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Sunny nodded seriously.”

Martha nodded back

Thomas looked around at everyone, and Sunny found it hard to look at him. He had Adam’s nose and eyes, though his face shape was different, “Look, I havent done a whole lot of worthwhile things in my life, but I, well, no one messes with my family, and that's the honest to god truth of it, so I… I’m here to help.”

There was a small chorus of approval from the rest of the group.

Sunny was about to turn and address them all when another group of figures marched up the tarmac.

She knew Drev when she saw them, and she was surprised to see A hunched figured at their head.

“Hijan?” She said quietly

Martha turned on the spot as the wizened old Drev walked up, A white cape billowing from her shoulder, a spear in either upper hand. It seemed odd to see her like thta, and with a universal translator in her ear no less, “Do you have room for a few more?”

Sunny nodded a bit dumbstruck, while Martha stepped forward, pushing back her cap a little more.

“Hijan…. You took care of my son on Anin?”

The old Drev warrior looked down at the small human almost four feet shorter than her. “Your son in blood my son in spirit.”

Martha smiled, “Than from one mother to another….. Make sure his disappearance was not in vein.”

Hijan raised her spear, “To my last breath.”

***

I lay on the soft padded floor feeling the gentle rocking and listening to the sound of the pulsing alien engines. What I lay on was some kind of white cotton or, moss sort of substance, but whatever it was it was nice, and helped to soothe my aching back.

The alien creature looked over at me, or at least I think it did.

It was a strange creature, about seven feet tall and mat grey. It had five large legs and a small protrusion on the top of its body. My most accurate comparison would be the Hexapods from that old movie Arrival or the Omnidroid from the first incredibles movie. It was so completely alien that I wasn’t even sure how the thing communicated, though it was nice enough to me at least.

They had found me shortly after my run in with the blue raptor thing, and stumbling through the bushes I had looked up only to see a group of these things surrounding me. Obviously I had been freaked out, like pee your pants and scream like a little girl kind of freaked out, but they had been slow and almost gentle, and once I had let them forward they had sealed my wounds.

They even let me keep my things when I was bundled aboard their strange alien ship, nothing more than a hovering silver ball over the sand. I was put into this strange room while one of them watched over me.

It was nice, soft, and comfortable, though I was loath to think of the radio that I had dropped somewhere back on the planet, though I still had the knife and the broken spearhead.

I lay back quietly on the padding eyes mostly closed.

I was weak from blood-loss and the pain, so I only partially noticed as an opening appeared on the opposite wall and another one of the creatures walked in. of a moment I could see across the hall and into a similar room to mine before the wall was sealed.

I watched the two Omnidroids communicate with each other, hearing nothing more than a very deep rumble, which was so powerful it seemed to shake my bones.

No way I was going to understand that.

Somehow, the rumbling was rather soothing, and I closed my eyes just to listen.

I was sure now that wherever that wormhole had taken me, it wasn’t anywhere I was familiar with. The GA had no record of the Omnidroids, and if they did I would have been the first to know about it, not because I was important enough for them to tell, but because I was a nerd for new aliens.

Now all that remained was one question.

Where were they taking me, and what were they going to do?

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smilingleoo · 4 years ago

Text

Seokjin Drabble-He cheats on you and the regrets it

Request: Hello love! Can i have broke up series with jin? Maybe it's only 3 parts or 5. Like he's cheating and then regret it 😊😊 i love your writings :33

Author’s Note: Hello! Sorry but I can’t turn it into more than one chapter because I have a lot of other requests, hope you can understand :) I’m also really sorry for the amount of time I’m taking to actually write but K’ve been dealing with some stuff and I have little-to-none time! Well, having said that...enjoy!!!

————

“This is wrong”-Seokjin though as he unclaspped another woman’s bra skillfully. He dragged his full lips through the bare skin of her long neck, planting tender kisses as if she was his lover. But she was not because he already had a partner waiting expectantly for him to arrive home. He was selfishly abusing your undeniable trust by sleeping with other people and was not even feeling an ounce of guilt-“And I know this is wrong”

The woman slid out of his reach and started unbottoning Jin’s pants, her lustful stare conquering every inch of his desire. He sighed and encouraged her with a slight groan when she reached the fabric of his underwear, teasing him while caressing his crotch through the damp cloth.

It for sure was wrong, but he loved every moment of his sin.

()

“Oh, baby”-you exclaimed happily through the kitchen-“You’re already up! I was just making some breakfast...If you can wait for two more minutes, it’ll be done and we can eat together”

“Sorry, I have to go now”-he spoke grabbing an apple from the counter and dashing out of the room. You followed him with your stare, slightly annoyed by his rudeness. You had noticed his strange demanour ever since he came back from the studio three days ago. He had come not only exhausted, which you concluded it was from practice, but also extremely absentminded and distant. The days after were cold too; his morning kisses were gone and the long, lovely messages that would pop on your phone’s screen disappeared.

The longing in your heart was stronger than any thought invading your mind. It was tough having a boyfriend who didn’t even show you love. Did he have any left for you? You weren’t sure anymore.

The day went on as usual, you worked the most part of it. However, you still returned home earlier than Seokjin, which was normal. You left your things on the little shelf stuck on the entrance wall and directed yourself to the bedroom, changing into some comfortable clothes before grabbing your phone and plopping yourself on the couch.

You scrolled through social media for nearly an hour and started to get worried when you didn’t receive any messages from your boyfriend. Although he had been distant for a while now, he never failed to text you if he couldn’t make it for dinner. Worriedly, you searched for Namjoon’s number and dialed the leader with no hesitation.

“Hi, Y/N!”-he greeted you. Namjoon loved you dearly and you cared for him equally. He was extremely happy that his best friend had actually found such an incredible partner to be by his side. Therefore, when you explained why you had called, his frown came as quick as lightning-“He excused himself earlier than usual because he said he had an anniversary date with you”

You had fallen silent.

“Y/N?”

“I’ll call you later”-you struggled to keep your breathing steady-“Thanks for the help, Joon”

“Y/N, wait-”-but you had already ended the call.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as uncertainly conquered your chest, wrenching every inch of space for air to come into your lungs. Your world started trembling and you clutched your shirt for any kind of support. Breathing became impossible and, out of anger as well as disappointment, you had plummeted on the floor struggling to move your body from its sitting position against the wall.

He couldn’t be cheating on you, right?

Your trembling fingers tapped on his contact name and the signature beeping of the call deafened you. One time, two times, three times-you counted every annoying sound the device made. You waited patiently, even though you had ran out of it a long time ago, closing your eyes in the meantime. It stung, everything burnt and ached inside you. Your heart was broken, your energy was drained and your head spinned when suddenly someonepicked up the phone.

“Hello?”-a woman’s groggy voice mumbled through the phone.

“I-Is Kim Seokjin there?”-his name tasted like venom in your mouth. She hummed affirmatively and then shuffling noises were heard, until his soothing voice rung-“Who am I talking to?”

“Don’t even bother coming back home”-you screamed. Everything you had done for him, all the things, opportunities and dreams you had postpone just so you could be with him a little longer. All your support, all your trust, all your love were made out of the most fragile paper and he had burnt them all with just a single flame; lust-“I’ll pack your things and put them outside. I want them gone by tomorrow.”

“Y/N, please! Let me explain...”-he begged.

“Oh! Now you want to talk, Seokjin?”-you laughed-“Now you want to discuss things because you’ve been caught? Save your words for your new woman’s dirty talk, babe. Maybe they’ll be of better use”

And you ended the call.

()

“Aren’t you going to talk to me, Namjoon?”-Seokjin questioned as his friend shook his head disapprovingly-“I cheated on Y/N, not you!”

“They’re my best friend too, Seokjin!”-he screamed-“They didn’t deserve it and you know it! But you are so damn arrogant that you won’t admit it, will you? God, they gave you everything and you just had to mess things up? Why couldn’t you just break up?”

Seokjin didn’t answer. Truthfully, he had been scared. He knew how wonderful you were, how much you would give and do for him. He could say he had taken advantage of such blind love, such trust. But he would be lying for he, in fact, feared the mere though of being alone. He couldn’t think about the what if’s and his future without a partner he could come home to. Maybe he wasn’t in love with you anymore yet he was enamored with what a romantic relationship had to offer him-“Bacause I couldn’t let her go”

“You sound like a psychopath”-Namjoon said.

“Maybe I am”-Seokjin sighed, sitting down while ruffling his hair. Namjoon, reluctantly, took the free spot besides him and snuggled further into the couch’s comfort-“I hate losing her, Namjoon”

“At least you regret it...”-the leader mumbled-“I know it won’t solve things but maybe leave them a message? I guess that would make you less of an asshole”

“Thanks for the support”-Seokjin tolled his eyes.

“Oh, you know you deserve that and more”-Namjoon snickered before pushing himself off the couch and out of the room.

“Yeah, I kind of do”

()

Even though he was the one who ruined the relationship in the first place, Seokjin couldn’t help but feel lost without you in his life. He would get home from a day packed with work, hoping he could eat a homemade dinner prepared by you, only to meet an empty table and cold takeaway in the fridge.

Classy.

He put himself through this life, though. Seokjin knew what he was doing when he decided to sleep with other people. He was fully aware of his mistake and, therefore, consequence but he chose to ignore them for the mere pleasure those actions implied.

He hadn’t seen you since you left. He thought you had changed your life’s course, opting to do things that maybe you couldn’t have done if you stayed with him. Did he feel happy about it? Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t...he wasn’t sure about it.

“Seokjin-ah!”-Hoseok called out-“Are you paying attention?”

The choreography wasn’t even that hard yet Seokjin couldn’t manage to get a single step right. Namjoon, noticing his friend’s poor performance, decided to call for a brief water-break. When everyone went to look for their stuff, Namjoon approached Seokjin and asked-“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know”-Seokjin answered. The eldest sighed, annoyed with himself and his unforgiving emotions, and drink a long sip from his water bottle-“I sometimes wish I hadn’t cheated on them, Namjoon”

“But you don’t miss them, specifically”-the leader explained-“You missed what they did for you...”

But Seokjin wasn’t sure anymore.

You had stuck around with the group, since you had a built a strong bond with most of them. You brought meals, snacks and even pampered Jungkook with those delicious banana milk you specially bought just for him. Saying he was slightly jealous was lessening the whole ordeal. Seokjin’s anger was boiling.

Worst of it all, you seems totally unfazed by his presence. You would Emeterio the room, smile to everyone-even him, the piece of shit who treated you like trash-and continue on with your tasks. Continue on with your life...a life withou him.

“Y/N, you remembered!”-Hoseok smiled as he hugged you from the side. You giggled, which was the most comforting sound Seokjin had heard, and proceeded to send a quick message on you phone. Hoseok’s phone pinged and, out of curiosity, everyone peaked their head forward-“She made a Tik Tok promoting my new mixtape”

“Yeah, I’m not the best dancer”-she scratched the back of her neck-“But I can nail some easy moves!”

“Are you kidding? This is awesome!”-Jungkook vibes with the catchy song as his eyes lit up while your body swayed. Taehyung agreed with a concentrated nod, scanning the screen of the youngest’s phone. Jimin winced at a drastic hip rol and Seokjin frowned because it was his ex-partner they were ogling at-“Those hops are smooth, Y/N! Maybe you should teach us how to loosen up”

“Don’t get too excited kiddo, they’re my-”

“I’d love to!”-you exclaimed, glancing Seokjin’s for a brief second. He immediately understood his mistake and decided to exit the room, resting his back on the cold wall. He needed to stop thinking about you and your stupid ways of making his heart smile. Otherwise, it would be absolutely impossible to forgive himself for cheating on you.

“Seokjin?”-your sweet voice called for him. He automatically titled his head to hear you better, coming face-to-gave with your delicate features he had missed so much. He had come to adore how your gaze soften up with every single caress of someone’s whispers. However, this time, your cold-stone stare pierced his every sense. He backed away slightly-“I just wanted to make something clear”

His eyebrows shot upwards-“I’m still hurt, you know. What you did broke me, entirely. I’m pretty sure you don’t see it that way but it was extremely painful. I’m not trying to play the victim here, though. Everyday I wake and ask myself if I’m even good enough to go outside since the only person I’d fully trusted changed me from some sex. But I keep going and I’m still here, facing you. Facing what caused me so much damage. And you? You’re trying to act as if things were still like before. You’re selfish, Seokjin. You’re a beautiful guy, believe me, and I’m really in live with you but you’re just too into your own feelings. You keep on missing me, I notice, but have you ever asked yourself if I missed you? If I was okay?”

He bit his lip.

“I guess not”-you sighed-“Goodbye, Seokjin”

And as you walked down the hallway, unforgettable perfume tinting the air between both of you, Seokjin never felt so utterly lost.

“Goodbye, Y/N”

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts army #bts seokjin #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader #seokjin angst #seokjin imagine #jin x y/n #jin x you #jin imagines #jin x reader #bts jin #bts angst #bts drabble

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