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neonacity · 3 years ago

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LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.7

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Summary: It was supposed to be a harmless, professional transaction. You were to tutor a group of boys, get your pay at the end of the day, and go home to your loving fiance. Kids aren’t supposed to be dangerous, right? So why, then, are you caught up in a web of madness that slowly makes you feel like you’re in a living nightmare?

NOTE:This is a yandere plot featuring NCT Dream ‘00 line which means there will be mature themes in the story as well as obsessive, toxic behavior. If you’re a minor, please refrain from interacting. If this isn’t your thing, then just scroll and skip. In no way am I condoning anything written here— this is not love, this is obsession—nor do I think that any of the people mentioned here will act any way like in this story. This is purely a work of fiction.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, slight smut for this chapter but nothing graphic, questionable consent (?) I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

“I BECAME INSANE, WITH HORRIBLE INTERVALS OF SANITY.” - EDGAR ALLAN POE

"Look at you… you see why you should always be careful? Now your face is all scratched up."

The boy stared at the broken mirror, his thin shoulders shaking as he tried his best to hold back his sobs. Tears clung to his long eyelashes and his big brown eyes were rimmed with red, but what really stood out against the milky white skin of his face was the red welt that covered the slight cut on his left cheek. Behind him, a woman loomed as she ran long fingers through his hair lovingly, a silver comb glittering in one hand as she brushed his hair again and again.

"You're lucky you don't need stitches. Or else, it would have left a scar. This should be your lesson not to play in the forest again with your brothers, okay? It's so easy to lose your footing there at night."

The child took a shaky breath as his gaze focused on the wound on his face. He is not the type to easily cry from injuries caused by playtime, but there are other far more fearful things that could make him shake in terror for coming home with a marred face. She never likes it when he is dirty or unpresentable. Anything that messes up with his perfection, she loathes.

"You're so beautiful, sweetheart… never mess with that, hmm? I don't like it whenever I have to remind you of this."

He flinched. A jolt of fear ran through his spine as he waited for her arm to raise again. She didn't, however, her image in the mirror continuing to brush his soft locks instead. He gave a slight breath of relief. She is always ruthless with her discipline, but she knows exactly when to stop before she breaks any skin or bones.

As she said herself, one should never mess with beauty.

"W-where's Renjun?"

Her hand momentarily froze for a few heartbeats before continuing with her gentle brushing again.

"Your father is taking care of him. He needs to be reminded of certain things, too."

That made his heart stop beating for a bit. He remembered the last time Renjun had to be disciplined and it wasn't anything he wanted to happen again. Despite his fear, he hastily turned to the woman now, eyes wide and pupils shaking.

"Please, mama. It's my fault. I'm the one who made him play with me in the forest."

The woman looked down at him with her icy gaze. In the dim light of the lamp shining in the room, she looked like a marble statue with her terrifying beauty.

"He is your older brother. He should know better than to let you get hurt."

Fear shot through him again and his lower lip trembled, but he didn't let that stop him this time. With shaking hands, he reached out for her arms, his eyes pleading.

"Please, mama."

There was an ever so slight change in the cold glint of the monstress' eyes at his words. He waited with bated breath, but after a while her lips slowly split into a smile as she cupped his cheek, the same one she bruised earlier. How could she say no to such a beautiful angel like him?

"Let me see what I can do. But you have to promise me never to get yourself hurt again, mm?"

The child nodded. Her smile widened as her thumb traced the cut on his cheek.

"Good. Always remember, my dear. You can get anything you want, as long as you are beautiful."

******* "You said she'll come back."

Haechan merely gave a soft sigh as he lazily turned the page of the book he was currently reading. Next to the wall by the window, Jeno looked over at the owner of the voice calmly, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

"And she will. You have to relax and wait, Jaem," Haechan finally answered casually. He didn't need to turn around to know how the other might react—he could clearly feel his eyes burning against the back of his head from where he was sitting.

"It's been almost a week. She has never even called," Jaemin drawled slowly, his tone terrifying in its calmness. The look in his eyes was beyond crazed—it was empty, almost dead—a result of lack of sleep. His loose top only had some of its buttons done, as if he only haphazardly put it on.

"It's ONLY been a week. That isn't so bad for someone who has their soon-to-be husband lying unconscious in the hospital."

The crashing sound of glass breaking on the floor filled the room. Haechan's fingers finally stopped flipping through the pages and Jeno ever so slightly straightened from where he was leaning by the wall.

"Jaemin, control yourself," the latter said calmly, though anyone who knows him well enough could see the tightness in the way he held himself. He's ready to jump in anytime he is needed to intervene.

"When was the last time you slept, Jaeminnie? Jisung said you also haven't eaten any of the food he brought you," Haechan asked as he finally looked at his brother for the first time since he entered the room. Jaemin, however, only returned his question with a glare. His chest had started heaving, as if he was trying his best to control his breath.

"I want her. Now."

"We will have her. But you have to wait."

"I am done with your stupid plans! This is taking so long. What if what Renjun did makes her run away entirely!"

"You do know that she cannot run if she doesn't know there is a chase in the first place, right?"

That made Jaemin stop. Haechan took that as a window to continue, his tone calming and even. His brother's outbursts may be dangerous, but he has dealt with it enough to know how to manage it. Everyone in the household does, but while others coddled him, he knew how to make the other listen to his words alone.

"We have to be careful with it… you understand that right? We can get her anytime we want but that would be messy. Do you want people to come and try to get her from you again? Because that's what will happen if she just disappears out of the blue."

Jaemin didn't immediately answer, though there was an apparent change in the way he carried himself. His shoulders slacked and he relaxed his jaw just a little bit.

"You promise she will come back."

Haechan nodded.

"She will. But we have to wait for her to do it willingly."

The youngest of the three finally straightened up with a slight frown. Silence settled in the room for a few seconds, none of the boys breaking it as if they were playing a mental tug of war. Finally, Jaemin gave his two brothers one last look before turning on his heels and slamming the door behind him wordlessly.

Haechan gave another sigh before picking up his book again. Across from him, Jeno pushed himself off the wall and started walking towards the exit as well.

"Did we remove all the sharp things in his room?" Haechan asked as he passed without even looking up from the pages he was reading.

"We did. But I'll check again."

"I think a shot of sedative can help too. He needs sleep. He's almost hallucinating."

"I'll give him one," Jeno said as he wrapped his hand around the bronze knob of the oak entryway. He stopped before turning it, however, and looked over his shoulder at his brother.

"I do hope things move soon just like what you said," he said slowly as he waited for Haechan's gaze to briefly meet his. His words rang in the still air of the room despite him barely raising his voice.

"Jaemin is not the only one losing patience here.”

*******

Everything merged into a blur as you hurtled past the trees and shrubberies in the dark. Your lungs were screaming for you to stop and a dull pain at the back of your left thigh hammered at your legs, but still you continued on, toppling over roots and crashing against tree barks. You can only do so much to keep your balance as your feet sank on the snow, and you're pretty sure your arms had several cuts in them as you used them to hack your way through some wayward branches blocking your path as you sped through.

At the back of your mind that's focused on making your escape was the sheer confusion about the situation you are in. You could not grasp what was happening, and the fear coursing through your veins wasn't helping in giving sense to all the things that have happened so far. Why are they after you? What do they want from you? Just—why are you running in the first place?

Have you really been walking around a house full of mad people all this time? Is there anything you have done wrong to them to deserve this? Impossible. You've been nothing but a casual acquaintance to them, only coming in to do your job and leaving without stirring anything bad. So why… Why is this happening now?

A gasp was torn from you forcefully when the toe of your shoe caught against a dead root on the ground. Losing your balance, you crashed face first to it, only throwing your hand just in time to break the fall before you hit the forest floor. You instinctively turned to your side to lessen the impact, but the move only put force on your left leg, causing you to give a yelp of pain.

The adrenaline that pushed you to flee earlier had initially masked the sting there, but the blunt force of it hitting the ground now jolted you to your injury at full force. Curling over, your hand tried to grasp at your thigh to make sense of the searing burn there. Your fingers grazed over liquid, and you momentarily froze when you finally realized what it was.

Blood.

You've been shot.

You barely had any time to fully process that, however, when the slight cracking of branches made your hyper aware senses act up again. Whipping your head around, you tried to look around the shadows of the trees surrounding you, pupils blown out in fear. You could barely see anything in the dark despite your vision having already adjusted to it but you know the sound wasn't just a creation of your imagination. Somebody is out there.

"No matter where you hide, I'll still find you in that forest."

Jeno's words rang in your head like a ghostly echo. As if a jolt of electric shock shot through your veins, you scrambled to your hands and feet again and crawled on all fours to find a place to hide.

You could barely move with the pain on your leg making you dizzy, but you were fortunate enough to find a hollow tree bark just a few feet away. The sound that you heard earlier didn't come up again, but even the dead silence in the forest didn't do anything to make the mad beating of your heart calm down. Even the singing of the cicadas seemed to have been muted, leaving you only with the loud beating of your pulse against your ears. Quickly, you dug through the thorny branches covering the spot you saw so you could slip inside and hide. Your hands were all cut up and your skin was bleeding from the thorns but you paid them no mind as you prayed for enough time before he finds you.

"Please. Please. Please."

You have barely hauled yourself inside of the hollow bark when something finally broke through the deafening silence. It was only after you managed to pull back some of the branches over your hiding place again when you finally realized what it was.

Whistling.

The tone and rhythm was slow, but you were sure it wasn't any wild animal creating the lilting and haunting tune. Goosebumps rose on your flesh as you noticed it move closer and closer, as if the person was taking his time to get to where you are.

"Come out now. You'll run out of blood, you know."

Your heart entirely stopped beating in your chest as you recognized Jeno's voice. He sounded calm, but you couldn't really pinpoint where he was from as the forest echoed back his words. Is he near? Does he know where you are already? You were dizzy with fear, but still you tried your best to pick out more sounds that could betray his location.

"You do know… that whatever happens, the end of this night only means one thing for you right?" He spoke again and you could swear he was just behind the tree bark where you are currently curled in. You put your hands tightly over your lips now to keep your silent sobs from escaping.

"Any other night and this would have been fun, but I can't really risk you freezing to death right now," the clink of something metallic tapping against tree barks echoed dully in the space. With jolting fear, you realized what it was. He still has his hunting rifle with him.

Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision, but you remained steadfast in not making any sound. Every muscle in your body was taut as you tried to keep as still as possible. You could hear him walking just a few feet from where you are hiding now, his leather boots crunching against the snow.

"One last call. You wouldn't want to get lost in the forest again, right?" you heard him stop moving and you could almost swear he could hear your heart beating in your chest. Without warning, another gunshot rang in the air, causing you to jump in shock. You tasted iron in your tongue, your lower lip bleeding after you bit down on it just to keep yourself from screaming.

"After all, I don't think you can afford to fall head first down a cliff again." Jeno said evenly before the silence of the night settled over the woods again.

The realization washed over you like a bucket of ice. Those hands that you felt before your accident, you didn't imagine them.

It was him all along.

You were already in the middle of a full breakdown when you heard him pick up the tune he was whistling once more. Despite the fear clouding your senses, it did register to you how the sound changed as if he was walking farther, off into the opposite direction. Slowly, the tune got softer and softer... until it finally disappeared.

You didn’t realize that you’ve got your eyes shut tight until you finally slowly opened them again. The night remained still in its silence from where you sat hiding, only broken here and there by the sound of your own heaving breaths. You strained your ears to listen but picked up nothing, as if you’ve only imagined the boy calling out to you seconds ago. Were you finally alone again? Did he move on thinking he got the spot wrong?

The view beyond stared back at you in its darkness, silent and watchful. You’ve managed to cover most of the bark’s opening with thorny branches that even you couldn’t properly see through it, but the stillness beyond seemed safe, at the very least. You waited for a few more seconds, until finally slowly lowering your hands you’ve clamped over your lips.

You’ve started reaching out to brush away the bushes covering you from the outside when a scream was suddenly torn out of you. Before you could even take your next breath, an arm burst through the thorny branches out of nowhere and grabbed you by the cuff of your shirt.

You tried to fight and kick, fingers even clawing at his hands, but all your efforts didn’t even seem to dent Jeno as he easily pulled you from your hiding place and dragged you over the dead leaves and branches. You were already half out of your wits when you felt one of his palms cup behind your left thigh, his fingers squeezing and digging through the open flesh of your wound. You screamed in agony, the mixture of shock and pain making you lose your balance and lean against him.

He took that as his chance to finally wrap one arm around your waist while the other fumbled for something you cannot see from his pocket. Your head was swimming from the panic, the pain, and the overwhelming fear that you barely even felt the prickling of a needle on your left arm. Its effect was instantaneous as you slumped even more against his frame, his words the last thing you could remember before your vision finally swam with darkness.

“It’s time to go home.”

******* It was the blazing yellow washing behind your eyelids that slowly pulled you out from your slumber. Waking up felt similar to breaking the surface after floating from underwater for so long. It was gradual… until the gravity forced you to finally take a deep breath as you fluttered your eyes open.

The first thing that met your gaze was a strip of sunlight on the rug covered floor. The room was dark, but the glow from outside told you that it was early in the morning. With a groan, you rolled to your side to escape the beam shining directly on your face. The whole situation felt familiar—like de ja vu. It was the same morning that you had the day before. Almost...

The thought was short-lived, however, when a vision of arms dragging your body like a doll across the forest startled your memories. Eyes opening wide again, you quickly sat up from the bed, only to give a loud gasp as pain shot on your leg. Even that, however, failed to stop all the memories that washed over you now like a tidal wave.

The painting.

The night at the manor.

Gunshots.

The forest.

And Jeno finding you.

The first thing that you tried to focus on was to figure out where you are. For the first time, you really took in your surroundings as your eyes swiveled around the darkened place. You were in a plain room with wooden paneled walls and a fireplace at the corner. Other than the double bed you are in, the place was bare except for a small table at your side. There is only one set of windows on the far right and you could see the fringes of trees from the little view that your current position afforded. Nothing in the space rang a bell to you but you are sure of one thing.

This isn’t the manor.

The sudden creaking of the door to your left made you jump up from the bed. Hastily, you pushed yourself back against the headboard, eyes wide as they met a pair of familiar eyes. Jaemin’s face peeked from around the threshold, looking angelic in the minimal light. Your heart stopped when your gazes locked. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you while you looked back at him with pure fear written all over your face. Then, all of a sudden, the corner of his lips lifted to give you one of his dazzling smiles.

“You’re finally up.”

The sound of his voice was enough to make something inside of you snap. You bolted out from the bed and ran to the farthest corner of your room as he finally allowed himself to step inside. He casually strolled over, a box on his left hand, while you cowered in fear and tried your best to push your back against the wall. His behavior greatly disturbed you, especially after he sat himself on the edge of your bed and patted it casually as if inviting you to join him.

“I’m lucky to be the first one to greet you. You look beautiful in your dress, by the way. I was the one who chose it.”

Your eyes quickly glanced at what you were wearing. You were clad in a white nightgown, trimmed with silk and lace on the waist and on the hems. Your stomach turned as you tried to think over what happened to your old clothes and who put you in your new ones, but you tried to keep your focus to fight off the impending panic attack that was tightening your chest. Meanwhile, Jaemin remained staring at you placidly, an idle smile on his lips.

“It’s time to change your bandages. Come here now.”

You finally cracked. Eyes shooting up to him again, you tried your best to push the first words out of your constricted throat.

“What’s happening? Where am I?!”

The boy didn’t seem to be bothered by your rising tone though. Instead, he ever so slightly shifted his head to the side, as if you just shot him a question about the weather.

“You’re home.”

“Jaemin, what the hell is happening!!”

“Don’t shout, noona. I don’t like that.”

The ice in his voice quickly made you shift back to your corner again. His expression barely changed, but the light in his eyes burned differently for a brief second, danger and threat screaming from their depths. Unconsciously, you tried to push back as far as you can against the wood to put as much distance between the two of you.

Jaemin gave a soft sigh and finally looked away. It was like a switch was turned off on him again, but it was too late. You were already shaking in fear again.

“I didn’t want to be the one to explain all of this to you. Renjun and Haechan were supposed to be the ones doing it.”

You simply stared at him as you slowly tried to process his words. You watched as his fingers played with the corners of the white box he was holding which, upon second look, seemed to be a first aid kit.

“We want you to come and stay with us. I guess that’s the simplest way to say it.”

You frowned.

“What—Why?”

“Because we like you,” Jaemin answered casually but stopped briefly as if thinking over his answer. “Actually, no. I love you.”

It was like something inside of you broke at his words. Your mind, which already couldn’t comprehend anything, simply went numb all throughout. That... doesn’t make sense at all. None of this is rational behavior. You didn’t know how long you stayed silent, but you felt a growing weight at the pit of your stomach as things slowly dawned on you. The situation you were in… it’s all making sense now—ironically—despite the lack of logic in it.

“You’re perfect for us. You’re kind, and you take care of us. You like us too, don’t you?” Jaemin continued as he watched you with the same gaze. Meanwhile, one phrase echoed in your head again and again, rendering you deaf to anything else he was saying.

He’s mad.

All of them are mad.

“It took us so long to take you home, but I’m glad you’re finally here. Now, let me take care of your wound. I need to clean it.”

“You’re crazy,” you whispered, mostly to yourself. Your gaze stayed on a spot on the floor as you tried to keep yourself together. “This is… This is a crime. I’m going to… the police.”

Jaemin didn’t seem bothered by it at all. When he spoke again, he sounded like he was talking to a child.

“Don’t be difficult now… I know you know that you can’t leave. It’s just you and us four here now. So let’s not make our lives difficult and just let us take care of you, hmm?”

You didn’t realize that you’ve finally lost your balance until your knees finally hit the floor with a dull thud. You could barely breathe, your chest heaving hard as it struggled for air. Jaemin looked concerned from where he sat that he almost looked like he was about to stand up to go to where you are. Before he could make another move, however, the door opened again revealing another visitor. It only took you one second to look at his face before you gasped again and scrambled back to your corner in fear.

Jeno gave one quick look at Jaemin before turning his gaze on you.

You felt nauseous. If you were scared seconds ago, then you were absolutely terrified now. One look at him made all the memories back in the forest flash in your mind again and you curled into a ball, your legs pressing against your chest. Jaemin noticed and looked over at his brother with a slight frown.

“I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t show yourself first? You scare her.”

Jeno barely looked at him. You refused to meet his gaze, but you did hear the slight sigh he gave after.

“Sorry, I heard voices and I couldn’t help myself. How long has she been up?”

“Not that long. She wouldn’t let me take care of her wound though.”

The wound. The gunshot wound that HE caused.

As if Jaemin read your mind, he turned to address you once more.

“It’s okay. Jeno won’t hurt you again. He only did that so we could take you home. Right Jeno?” he tried to assure you as if all of this was normal. You refused to look at any of them and covered your ears with your hands.

Jaemin sighed again and looked at her brother. “I think she is getting very overwhelmed. Maybe we should come back later. Especially you.”

The other simply shrugged. “Fine. Let’s have her adjust first. It’s better to talk to her with Renjun and Haechan here anyway.”

Renjun and Haechan… they were on this, too. What else have they done behind your back? What exactly are their roles in this twisted game?

The slight creaking of the door broke you from the flood of thoughts beating against your skull. Looking up, you caught Jaemin just in time before he closed it. He gave you a loving smile and you felt sick to your stomach again.

“I’ll be back, then I’ll help make you pretty. We can’t let you have any scars. You’re too beautiful for that.”

You barely even managed to open your lips to scream before he was shutting the door behind him, the dull sound followed by the loud click of a metal lock snapping.

******* You weren’t sure how long you’ve been sitting on the floor by the door. By now the light of the room has changed, flooding it with sunlight that burned against your skin. The curtains, once half parted, have been thrown open by you earlier as you tried to force the windows off their hinges to no avail. At this point, you have tried everything—screaming for help, clawing at the door, even checking out the fireplace that has been tightly boarded up from the outside. The wound on your thigh was hurting and even your fingers were crusted with dried blood as you tried to force every possible exit open to no avail. Still, none of that physical pain was enough to numb the torture that was going on inside you now.

You didn’t know where you are, but from what you could figure out from the view outside, you’re in a house surrounded by trees. No matter where you looked, there was only greenery, so any hope of having someone hear you scream seemed next to impossible. To be honest, you’re not even sure if you’re still in the same country.

The house also seemed smaller than the manor, but it does resemble the same grandness of it. The only difference is that while Rosewood is furnished with marble and is overflowing with elegance, the place you were in seemed to be more rustic, with rough stone walls interspersed between wooden panels. It looks like one of the smaller houses that hunters use as rest areas in the middle of nowhere, a realization that only made you more hopeless as you thought it through.

You held back a dry sob now and pulled your knees closer to your chest again. Even after painstaking hours of thinking through it, you still couldn’t find a logical reason behind the situation you are in—a fact that makes everything all the more worse. In the end, you cannot give reason to madness. To obsession.

You should have noticed it. There were so many signs leading to this, and yet you were blind and careless enough not to pay them any heed. The loaded glances and touches, the words that stirred the flight response in you… they should have been enough to make you run away. But instead you stayed, too blind and naive to notice yourself walking straight into a trap.

A fresh wave of panic started to choke you up again as the reality of your current situation came into focus once more. You have no idea where you are and any chance of escape seems impossible. You have a boyfriend waiting for you to come back—Jaehyun, how is he in the first place? Is somebody even looking for you? Have people even realized that you were missing—?

You have started rocking yourself back and forth in your spot when the distant sound of muffled noises stirred you from your thoughts. For the past hours that you’ve screamed and cried to be let out, the house has remained quiet, as if you’re the only soul there. Now, that silence is finally broken as the soft muffle of voices echoed from somewhere across the halls.

You quickly scrambled from your spot and hastily pressed your ear against the door. The wood was thick to block almost everything out, but it carried enough for you to at least be sure that someone is moving outside. Even more, they seem to be getting closer to the room where you are currently locked in.

You swallowed and tried your best to hear beyond the loud beating of your heart. There seems to be a couple of voices, a pair of them, to be exact. You were waiting to make out one word—just one word—so you could figure out who they are.

“She’s here? Are you sure?”

Your eyes widened.

Jisung.

Before you could even realize what you were doing, you quickly rose to your feet and started beating against the door with your fists again. You screamed, not even minding how painful your throat burned from all the yelling you’ve been doing earlier. Jaemin only did mention Renjun and Haechan earlier, so this—this might be your only chance left for any help. After all, it’s impossible for the youngest to be involved with any of this. Maybe he noticed that their brothers were up to something and came to investigate, surely he’ll—

You heard footsteps running towards you, followed by the sudden click of a lock outside. You’ve barely managed to step back from the door when it flew open, revealing a wide eyed Jisung outside. Your eyes locked, yours wide with panic and relief while his were blown out with worry. Quickly, he reached out to you to hold you by your arms before your knees gave way under your weight.

“Noona! Are you okay? I knew you were here!”

“Jisung, please. Please help me,” you managed to choke out as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. You swayed on your feet, but you tried to keep your balance, wanting him to get the urgent message fast.

“Are you hurt? Let me see—”

You were barely listening to him as he tried to quickly look over you to check for any injuries. Just before you could shake him again to ask him to focus, however, another person walked through the door. You couldn’t see much of him with Jisung’s frame mostly blocking your vision but one quick look at his face made you freeze.

Chenle approached the two of you casually, hands shoved in his pockets. He gave you one quick look before smiling.

“Hi, noona.”

Your eyes moved to where he stood calmly, your eyes roaming his stance from head to toe.

There was no sight of a crutch. Nor a broken leg.

“Jisung, I think you’re shaking her too much,” another voice piped in from just outside your room. You refused to look at the direction of it—you need not to, the lilting tone all too familiar for you not to recognize. He sounded like sunlight, casual and warm but ironic—especially with the way his words made ice climb up your spine. Instead, your gaze moved to Jisung again who was looking at you now with a smile on his face. He looked pleased after making sure you weren’t bleeding anywhere. The boy refused to see it, the way your heart broke right in front of his eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, noona. I thought you couldn’t play with us anymore. Now that you’re here, we can finally be a complete family.”

CHAPTER 8

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A/N: Keeping my fingers crossed that the coding doesn’t funk this time and mess up with my paragraphs. T.T

Taglist:

@negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat, @yutasnabi, @mirathe2002, @artemisblues, @ryu-naa, @aaasteroidsky

#nct dream yandere au #nct yandere fic #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line yandere #nct dream 00 line x reader #haechan x reader #jeno x reader #jaemin x reader #renjun x reader #yandere! haechan #yandere! jeno #yandere! jaemin #yandere! renjun #nct dream imagines #nct dream yandere imagines #yandere! nct dream 00 line #nct-writers

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duskholland · 5 years ago

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9.45pm - Peter Parker

summary �� you work the closing shift at a bakery and Spider-Man makes a habit of appearing at 9.45pm to walk you home.

word count ↠ 3.7k

warnings ↠ a lil bit of angst/hurt and comfort. minor descriptions of injury. a bit of swearing, but this is mostly fluff.

a/n ↠ I really loved writing this one. I felt so happy the whole time and ! I am very excited for people to read it, so I hope you enjoy it :)) I’ve also recently redone my taglist, so if you’re interested in that, it should be linked at the bottom of the post. feedback always appreciated!

THE BAKERY YOU WORK AT is one of New York’s hidden gems. Tucked away beneath a level of luxurious townhouses, the small space is covered in vintage artwork, bright leafy plants, and warm exposed lightbulbs that cast a web of kaleidoscopic light across the space. Your regulars love the way it’s their secret, love the way it’s as if they’re walking into their own secret hiding space every time they creep down the green metal staircase and walk in through the jangling door, and you love the way it’s like a little community revolves around the place. The air is always alight with the scent of fresh pastries and sound of relaxed laughs, and there really isn’t anywhere else you’d rather escape to after school.

You always work the closing shift on weekdays, slipping down into the shop at 5pm and locking up at 10pm. It’s always the quietest hours for the bakery - the best loaves of bread and the most perfectly iced cupcakes are always snatched up by commuters in the morning, so the only groups of people who wander into the bakery when you’re there are those on the lookout for discounted baked goods. It’s always relaxed, and as the hours creep by, more than often you find yourself being paid to sit behind the counter and read a book than actually deal with any customers, so it’s a winning combination all around.

Your job at the bakery is normal and unassuming. That is, until the night Spider-Man stumbles into your shop.

It’s around 9.45pm, and you’ve just finished pulling down the shutters. Your shop may be set on the basement level of the building, but you have two large windows at the front that catch the light from the sun and drowse the bakery in a warm golden glow during the day. At night, however, it’s a little creepy, and you’re happy it’s almost closing time so you can quickly walk home and clamber into bed. It’s been a long day.

The bell perched on the door rings loudly and you jump, clutching at your heart as you spin around to greet the latecomer, hoping that they aren’t expecting too much. At this stage in the night, the only goods leftover are the ones you haven’t snacked on: a round cherry pie, a few broken biscuits, and a box of crumbling scones. As you open your mouth to greet the customer, your eyes fall on the figure and you find yourself stumbling over your words.

It’s… Spider-Man?

“Uh- uh, hi, M-Mr Spider-Man,” you squeak, feeling the hot heat of your blood pulse across your cheeks. Faced with the iconic red and blue colours of the spidersuit, you find your mind blanking, “Wh-what are you doing here?”

Though you can’t see the face beneath the mask, you get the overwhelming suspicion that you’re being chuckled at.

“I’m hungry,” he replies. Your eyebrows raise as you take in the soft, high voice that escapes him. “My, uh, my aunt always talks about this place, and I saw it was open, so…”

You clear your throat. Right. That’s fine. Spider-Man knows your bakery. Spider-Man is here in front of you. Spider-Man wants some cakes. This is fine.

Swallowing down your nerves, you nod and attempt a wide smile. You gesture to the cabinet and walk back towards the counter. “We’ve not got much left, I’m afraid. We close in ten minutes, so most of the good stuff’s been taken.” You peer back at the cabinet. “There’s a cherry pie, some biscuits, a few pastries, or some scones.” You look up at him, and as unnerving as it is to look at a masked figure, you smile again. “Anything grab you?”

He pads across the floor and scratches at his chin. “Could I have the pie?” He asks, after a moment. “Oh, and, uh, the biscuits.” He looks up at you. “What happens to this all if it isn’t sold?”

You rub your hands together, a little surprised by his question. “Well, it’ll go off by tomorrow, so if I don’t eat it, it gets thrown out.”

The eyes of the Spider-Man suit are incredibly emotive, you realise, as you understand the way they’ve moved is to imitate shock. Spider-Man himself sighs quietly. “Do you want any of this stuff? Like- will you eat it?” He asks.

You shake your head, biting your lower lip guiltily. You’ve already cleared out the treats you like. All that’s left now are your rejects. “Nah, I don’t like this stuff,” you admit.

His posture shifts and Spider-Man stands taller. “I’ll take it all, then. Please.”

You hide your surprise and instead grab a box and begin to wrap up the goods. He’s watching you carefully, and you can’t help but smile shyly up at him. “Busy night?” You ask, as if this is the most normal thing in the world.

He shrugs. “Not really. Crime’s pretty low at the moment. Just small things - yanno, petty crime, small break-ins, stuff like that.” He glances around at your shop. “Are you the only one working just now?”

You nod as you wrap up the box in the special bakery paper. “Yeah, I close by myself on weekdays. Gets kinda lonely, but it’s nice, in a way.”

“You guys have good security here?” And he’s off, walking around the shop, glancing at the doors and the windows.

“Eh.” You shrug. “The boss had cameras put in, but that’s about it. I like to think that this place is off the beaten track enough to not be the source of any robberies.” You prefer not to think of it, really.

“Right.” Spider-Man wanders back to the counter and you place the finished box on the top for him. “Well, how much do I owe you?”

“Nothing.” When you know he’s about to protest, you interrupt. “Really, it’s on the house. This would all go to waste anyway, so… You’re really doing me a favour. Please take it.” You glance across the bakery and see the clock says 10pm. “Anyway, it’s 10pm now, so, technically I’m not allowed to make any further sales.” And you smile, knowing you’ve won.

He’s silent for a moment. “Thanks, uh…”

“Y/N.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” he says, voice softer. “Do you leave now? Can I wait with you?” When you raise an eyebrow, he adds, “It’s not always safe out there, especially when you’re alone.”

“Alright,” you agree, trying to hide the fact that you’re ecstatic. Spider-Man wants to look after you? The Spider-Man.

He waits for you as you complete your normal checks: cash box, windows, door. After a quick tidy up of the place, you wrap yourself in your large jacket and follow Spider-Man from the shop. Once the front door’s securely locked, you tuck the key in your pocket and shrug at him. “Okay, well, that’s me done now,” you say. It’s chilly, and despite the street illuminated by street-lamps, it’s also eerily dark. In the distance, you hear the chilling sounds of groups of people, their yells and shrieks cutting through the air.

“Can I walk you home?”

You look down at your feet. “Don’t you have other people to look after?” You ask. “Cities to save, and all that?”

You can almost sense the smile from beneath his mask. “Nope,” he says, voice light. “Just you.”

And you sigh, because really, how could you say no? “Okay,” you agree. “That would be nice.”

There’s a soft pause, and you have to fight the toothy grin off your face. It’s just the promise of a walk home, but you can’t help but feel that it’s somehow far more significant than that. With the way he gently nudges your shoulder with his, you have the feeling he knows the same.

“Show me the way, Y/N!”

----------

Over the following few weeks, Spider-Man drops in almost every day. Always at 9.45pm, always in search of sweet treats, and always ending in him escorting you home, your hands occasionally bumping together. And after a few encounters, you feel as if you’re starting to know him.

You chat to him, and ask about him, and feel like you get to know him. He’s still a mystery to you, of course, but you work out he’s seventeen too, and he’s incredibly smart. He’s got a large heart, and so much kindness and consideration tucked away beneath that suit that you know there’s no one better to take the mantle of Spider-Man and be the superhero the city’s so proud of. And he seems to care about you, too. On several occasions, you’ve been wiping down the tables when he’s grabbed a spare rag and started working alongside you, asking about your family, your pets, your friends… Everything that makes you you, really. And it’s very nice. Very, truly, sweetly nice.

So nice in fact that you find yourself daydreaming in chemistry class, your hands moving with your thoughts as you doodle absentmindedly over a spare page in your notebook. You’ve finished your lab and the teacher’s run out to grab something, so as you wait for the bell to ring, you let yourself unwind. Your eyes are focused lazily on the paper, you don’t even comprehend what you’re drawing until someone taps you on the back and you startle to attention.

“Hu- what?” You mutter, looking up suddenly. The tap came from a figure standing bashfully behind you. Peter Parker. “Uh, Peter, hi.” You don’t know him well, but you’ve been in the same classes since you transferred to Midtown for sophomore year. He’s always kept to himself, but you think he’s a nice guy.

“Hi.” His nervous brown eyes flit around your face, and you find your cheeks warming. “Whatcha drawing?”

Before you can cover your embarrassing scribble, the drawing’s in his hands and he’s staring at the image intently.

“Oh, uh, just, uh, Spider-Man?” Now your face is hot for an entirely different reason. “I’m not, like, obsessed with him or anything creepy like that. I just… He’s cool, I guess?”

Peter glances up at you, brown eyes soft and round. “This is very good,” he compliments. He passes you back the paper and you quickly stuff it into your bag, your heart beating quickly. “I didn’t know you liked art.”

Your eyebrows furrow together as you tilt your head, looking at him, bewildered. “We aren’t really friends, Peter,” you say, your voice not unkind but still confused. “I don’t know much about you either.”

An expression like a dawn of realisation passes over Peter’s face, and he takes a small step back. “Yeah- yeah, of course.” He scratches at the back of his neck, his long, surprisingly muscled arm flexing in the air. “If you’d ever want to hang out, uhhh, let me know?” And he sounds so uncertain that you can’t tell what he’s really asking, and nod along.

“Yeah, of course.” You scribble down your number on a piece of your notebook and pass it to him. “I work in a bakery, if you ever want to drop by,” you offer. Working five hours a night, five days a week, means friendships are hard. You know from experience that the best way for people to see you is for them to drop by.

“Which one?” Peter’s staring at the paper you’ve given him, eyes burning over the number you’d printed for him.

“The Muffin Man. It’s on 53rd and-”

“22nd,” he finishes. “My aunt loves it there,” he adds, blushing a little. “I’ll drop by one day.”

You swallow your surprise and nod your head. “I’m there every evening,” you say. The bell goes, signalling the end of class, and you gather together your things.

“Well.” Peter rocks back on his feet, his forehead creased. You have the feeling he wants to say more, but the moment passes. “I’ll see you around then, Y/N.”

You smile slowly. “Yeah, that’d be nice. Have a good day, Peter.”

And you walk out of the lab, a slightly light spring to your step. In an odd way that you can’t quite explain, it felt as though you’re old friends with Peter.

----------

It’s 9.45pm the following Monday when Spider-Man next bursts through the shop door. So used to this, you don’t look up from rows of numbers that fill the account books, and instead call out a distracted, “Hey!”

But when you hear the crashing of a chair falling over, your head bolts up, and you gasp as you see Spider-Man standing there, wobbling significantly, deep stains of blood clinging to the lighter patches of his suit.

“Holy shit,” you exclaim. Quickly grabbing the first aid kit from beneath the counter, you run out onto the shop floor and offer him an arm. “What happened? What can I do? Are you okay?” He sags into your side and you carefully lower him into a soft armchair, your frantic eyes fixed on his arm and the sight of his oozing blood.

“Got hit,” he manages, voice hoarse. You blink slightly, noticing for the first time that his voice sounds a little familiar. “Fuck, I’m- it hurts.” And he sounds so weak that you suddenly feel like crying.

“Okay,” you mutter. “Can I look at it?”

He reaches up and presses a concealed button on the suit, and you watch as the sleeve of his arm loosens and fall to the ground, exposing one of his pale, fleshy arms. The fact that he’s shown you a part of him is quickly overcome by worry as you see the bullet wound.

“It’ll heal by itself,” he says, voice hoarse. “Can you see if the bullet has passed through?” He’s pulled taut with pain, and you feel your heartbeat quicken as you kneel beside him and peer at the wound.

“I think it’s exited,” you say. You gentle move his arm around, examining it carefully. “Yeah,” you add. You see the exit wound. “Can I clean it up and bandage it?”

He jerks his head in a nod, and you get to work. You feel terrible as you wipe at the source of his agony but work as quickly and gently as you can to remove all the dirt and then wrap up the damaged area. Once you’re done, you get to your feet and wring out your hands. “That’s you,” you say. You rub at your eyebrows and feel lines of tension weaving across your forehead. “I’d say go to the hospital, but if you heal by yourself…”

“I’ll be fine.” Spider-Man surprises you by tentatively getting to his feet. “I feel better already.” His voice softens out, and you feel your heart race in your chest as he takes you in his arms. Suddenly you’re hugging him, your cheek pressed against his warm chest with his hands pressing into your back, and an untameable giddiness bubbles up in your chest. “Thank you so much,” he speaks. The outline of his nose nudges gently against your head, and one of his hands slips up your back, fiddling with the tips of your hair.

“It’s, um, it’s okay,” you manage, system running in overdrive. For weeks your crush has been building, but you’ve managed to keep it dormant, telling yourself there’s no way he’d ever like you back. But with the tender way he’s curling the ends of your hair around his fingers, maybe - just maybe - you were being too harsh. Maybe there’s a possibility that something could happen.

“I appreciate you,” he speaks, voice quiet. “There aren’t many places I can go and just...be myself, I guess. I’m glad you let me do that here.”

You peel your head away from him and look up to Spider-Man’s concealed face, his hands pressing into your back as you wrap your hands around his waist.

“Always,” you promise. You wish so desperately that you could see his face.

After a moment, he steps back, the warmth of his touch vanishing. You sag a little.

“What are your favourite kind of flowers?”

You think for a moment. “Forget-me-nots,” you answer. “Why?”

“No reason.” He shifts on his feet. “Now, tell me what cakes you’ve saved for me tonight, yeah?”

----------

Something is up. You haven’t seen Spider-Man for a week, and he’s never disappeared for that long before. You find yourself going a little crazy, thoughts and doubts racing through your head every time it reaches 10pm and you’re left alone to lock up and walk home. Did you scare him off? Was that hug a test, and did you somehow fail it? Did he decide you were no longer interesting enough for him? Is he hurt?

It’s 9.45pm, and you’ve grown so used to silence that when the door swings open with a loud ring of the bell, you jump, clutching at your chest. You look up immediately, expecting to see Spider-Man, but instead seeing… Peter Parker?

You’ve not spoken to him since he saw your drawing in chemistry class, but you have texted a few times. He’s nice, but you had no idea he’d intended on dropping by the bakery, and you can’t help but feel disappointment hollow out your chest as you see him, replacing your normal visitor. But you smile at him none the less, especially when he procures a bunch of blue and white flowers.

“Peter?” You ask, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. He looks nervous yet confident, his soft brown hair arranged neatly on his head, his eyes open and inquisitive. He comes towards you and offers you the bouquet.

“For you, Y/N,” he stammers. His freckled cheeks stand out as his skin fills with a rosy blush. “I, um, hope you like them.”

You take the bunch and marvel at the beauty of the flowers. “No one’s ever given me flowers before,” you breathe out. You stare at him, heart squeezing in your chest. “How did you know I like these? They’re my favourite.”

“Uh…” He seems trapped, and suddenly you’re struck with a thought. The way he’s standing - bashfully, but still strongly - and the slight lilt in his voice when he said your name… It’s awfully familiar.

“What’s going on?” You mutter to yourself. You put the flowers down on the counter and step back, hands going to your temple as your mind spins at a hundred miles an hour.

Both Spider-Man and Peter had told you that their aunt liked your bakery. They both appeared at 9.45pm, just before closing. They both know your favourite flowers. Is it possible..?

“Hey, hey.” Without realising it, you’d walked from behind the counter and are now stood, wobbling, in front of Peter. You feel a little dizzy, your heart beating rapidly as Peter reaches out to you, his hands settling on your shoulders as he peers at you nervously. “Calm down. Your heartbeat is crazy.” And he pulls you to him, but all you can focus on is that fact that he knows your heart is pounding against your rib cage.

“You’re…” You break off as his hands press into your back, the hug feeling familiar. For a moment, you settle, breathing in the clean scents of Peter’s nutty aftershave, but then you pull back, questions replacing your peace. “You’re Spider-Man!”

You stare at him intently, watching as his face cycles through an array of emotions: surprise, reluctance, fear, excitement, relief. He jerks his head in a nod.

“Yeah. I am.”

Your jaw drops. “Peter Parker is Spider-Man,” you whisper to yourself. You look at him, shocked. “Why- how- why would you tell me?” Is what you settle on eventually, completely flabbergasted. “I’m… I’m just a normal person, why would you tell me?” You can’t understand how this secret - so personal, and important, and powerful - has fallen into your lap.

Peter’s lips tweak into a smile. “You’re not just a normal person, Y/N.” You realise your hands are clasped in his and feel your heart bloom with adoration as he squeezes your fingers. “You’re clever, and funny, and kind. You like chemistry, and baking, and speaking to me when I’m Peter or Spider-Man, and you even helped me when I was hurt.” His eyes are wide and pleading. “You are many things, but you are not only normal.”

The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’re the only person in New York. Peter - shy, smart, witty Peter - is Spider-Man - someone who you’ve admired for years, and grown close to over the past weeks. Spider-Man is here, in front of you, mask off, showing you the most intimate details of his person, bunch of flowers and all.

And it makes you feel truly seen, for possibly the first time in your life.

“Why would you tell me?” You whisper, tilting your head to the side. The air is tender between you, and you become aware of how near you both are.

Instead of speaking the words you feel vibrating between you, Peter slides a hand up onto your cheek, his thin fingers spreading over your skin, tendrils of warmth flowing to your face. His other hand moves to your hair, lacing strands around his fingers as he steps closer, his eyes wide, questioning. You give him a little nod and feel your eyes drift close blissfully as he kisses you, his mouth soft, tender, warm. Happiness spreads through your chest as you push back against him, wrapping your hands around his waist as you kiss, and kiss, and kiss.

Moments later, when you’re both breathless and flushed with satisfaction, he pulls back. His forehead stays pressed against yours, and you gaze into his eyes, feeling a soft warmth flood the depth of your heart.

“I like you so much, Y/N,” he whispers. You can hear the nerves wobble in his voice. “I know I can trust you with this. I wanted you to know.”

Your lips pull into a wider smile. “I like you too, Peter,” you say. His fingers stroke your hair as his face creases with happiness. “Kiss me again,” you add, feeling a deep burning desire to be near him, hold him, love him.

His smile grows bolder as he nods gently. “Whatever you want, Y/N.”

And in the middle of your tiny bakery, tucked away from the rest of the city, Peter takes you in his arms. Your bodies connect tenderly, gently, completely, as your hearts intertwine. Love blooms in your chest as you feel him all around you, and as the clock strikes 10pm, you know that this is the start of something wonderful.

----------

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

masterlist

taglist ↠ see this post to be added :D

@behind-my-hazeleyes27 @stiles-o-dylan24 @stilinskiswritings @stealth-spiderr @youngblood199456 @stixnstripesworld @mischiefandi @penguinchick100 @hcomet28 @aftrrglo @scottish-sim @cosmicholland @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles @sweet-baby-cakes @apatheticanvas67482 @oh-whatabeautiful-parker

#peter parker #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #tom holland #woohoo #i just love this concept ?? so much #i hope you do too #catch me being soft thinking about hugging spiderman in my cute bakery #my writing #twilightparker writes #yayayayay #self-insert #y/n

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imaginepirates · 4 years ago

Text

Modern! Salazar

Salazar gets transported to modern times. Thankfully, you’re there to help him out when he washes up on the beach near your house, and in more ways than one.

@emdrabbles @tesserphantom @paljonkaikenlaista @viper-official @redballoonfloatingupsohigh666 @silvershadowsandqueens

~3100 words

~~~~~~~

Your feet hit the sand, sinking into it as you walked down to the waves. Your house sat right on the beach, giving you a great way to relax after a long day. It was early evening, and the sun hung low in the sky. You looked forward to a nice walk. It was still warm out, as always, and you could stick your feet in the water.

You walked a little ways down the sands until you noticed something strange. A figure was laying in the sand, face down, right near the waterline. You rushed over, grabbing them by the shoulder and shaking them. The moment you stuck your hand on the body, you felt a strange stickiness. Looking down, you noticed a web of black goo between your hand and the body. Oil, maybe?

As if the sticky substance wasn’t shock enough, the body jolted under you. It took everything you had not to scream. He pushed himself up onto his knees and looked up at you. This time, you did let out a little squeak.

His face was covered in what looked like cracks and fissures, jet black and flaking. You tried, unsuccessfully, to hide your horror. Whatever had happened to the poor man must have been terrible. You wondered if you should be getting involved; the situation seemed a little sketchy. As his dark eyes stared into yours, you realized you didn’t have a choice, at this point. You couldn’t just leave him.

“Who are you, crío?” he rasped. You were surprised to hear a thick accent.

“Someone who can help,” you told him. “I have a house not far from here. I can help you there.”

He grunted, turning his head to look at the beach. His hair seemed to float with the movement, as if still in water.

“The better question is: who are you?”

“Salazar.”

You blanched. Not that Salazar, surely? Unfortunately, he fit the description perfectly. He looked exactly like the man from the movies. But that’s impossible. Had you hit your head? Something was terribly wrong. He was a character, not a real person. But here he was.

He stood, looking down at you, and you turned hastily to lead him to your house. Maybe not the best idea. If you’d had your phone with you, you might have called the police. You were sure they’d received stranger calls. Although, I will admit that a man dressed in an old Spanish naval uniform dripping black goop washed up on the beach sounds pretty damn strange.

You led Salazar through the back door of your house, ushering him onto the wood floors in the kitchen. You wanted to make sure that none of the goop he was dripping got on the carpet. It dribbled out of his mouth whenever he spoke, and out from underneath his clothes when he moved. He looked more ghost than man. You supposed the assessment was true enough.

“Is there some way we can get you cleaned up?” you asked.

He laughed in response, gaping black mouth stretching wide. “No, crío. There can be nothing done for me.”

The response was creepy, you had to admit. You were still tempted to stick him in a bath. “Are you sure you can’t wipe away some of the black stuff? I’m not really fond of the thought of your dripping on my furniture.”

He gave you a dark look.

“It’s a better option than my calling the police. I don’t think they’d take too kindly to you, if I’m being honest.”

He looked confused. “I don’t know this police you speak of.”

You raised your eyebrows. “I suppose you don’t.”

You watched him take another look around the room, staring at all the kitchen appliances he never would have seen before. He walked over to the fridge, opening it with interest. He stepped back when he saw it was stocked full of food. He ran a hand over the counters, and looked up into the lights. You almost grabbed disinfectant wipes, but you figured it might be a little rude.

“What is all this?”

“Modern technology. I think you might be somewhat confused as to where you are. When you are, rather.”

“It is 1751, is it not?”

“Not exactly.”

“No?” He was staring at you intently, and you didn’t know how to tell him this next part. “Think more like, 2020.”

He gaped at you. “That is impossible!”

“Finding a stranger washed up on my beach, dressed in a couple hundred year old uniform, dripping gelatinous goo and having floating hair is also pretty impossible.”

He stared at you for an uncomfortably long time, frowning. Then, he smiled that wicked smile, laughing softly. “I am cursed, pequeño. I am cursed to walk this earth as a shell of who I once was. All who look at me despair.”

“That sounds...awful.” It would be, you thought. To be cursed for all of eternity to look like him. For everyone to fear you. “Is there no way to break the curse?”

“Not the curse of the flesh, no. But the curse of the Triangle, that can be broken. And now, it appears that it has. Just not in the way I had hoped.”

“You ended up here, instead of outside the Triangle?”

“Yes.” He looked at you suspiciously. “But how did you know what the curse of the Triangle was?”

“You are part of history.” You hoped you sounded convincing. For all he knew, he was right out of the history books. It was the best lie you could come up with at the moment.

“And what happens to me, in history?” His eyes searched yours, frantically, desperately.

“I cannot tell you.”

“You must!”

“I can’t. All I can do is care for you as you are now.”

You thought he’d be angry with you, given his temper, but he stared at you curiously. “Care for me?” “Take care of you while you’re here. Get you a bath. Food. I’d take you to a hospital if I didn’t think I’d end up the center of some police investigation.”

Salazar laughed. “No baths will help me. I have no need for food. I should take to the streets to find my way out of this mess. Somewhere will have the answers.”

“No!” you said quickly. “The world isn’t how you remember it. They’ll lock you up somewhere for being insane. And covered in apparently un-washable slime.” Hesitantly, you grabbed his hand, feeling a little slime ooze between your fingers. You quickly led him into your bathroom, trying not to get any black mire on your carpets.

You shoved him in the shower, and started trying to pull off his coat. It was old, tattered, and looked like it might fall apart at any moment. Salazar stopped his looking around at all your bath products to keep you from taking the coat.

“What do you think you’re doing, pequeño?”

“That coat looks like it’s going to fall apart. So do the rest of your clothes, for that matter. I can give you new ones. I have some stuff a friend left over here a while ago, and he was about your size.”

“No.”

“No?” “These are mine. I’ve had them for years. It is my uniform.”

“I think it’s time you wore something new. Besides, I’m taking them off of you so I can wash you down.” You turned on the warm water, letting it flood over his feet.

“It will not help.”

You shrugged. “It’s worth a try.” You finally succeeded in taking his coat, and he grudgingly handed over his loose undershirt. Next came his boots and stockings, and you set them in a pile on the floor. For propriety’s sake, his trousers stayed on. Still, you couldn’t help a bit of a blush.

You turned on the shower, taking Salazar by surprise. He tried looking at the stream of water, only to get a jet of it to the face. You snorted. Salazar glared at you, but you ignored it, grabbing a bottle of body wash. Squeezing some into your hand, you started on his arms. Your t-shirt was getting a bit wet, but you could change later.

No amount of body wash or shampoo was going to fix the sludge. No matter how many times you scrubbed, the black goo kept running over his body. You managed to make his hair look a little less greasy, but that was the extent of your success. The water rolled over his skin like it was coated in oil. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it were.

Frustrated, you left to get him new clothes. You weren’t going to let him wear his dirty rags around the house, even if it was a naval uniform. You returned to find him staring at himself in the mirror, frowning. You briefly wondered if lotion would do anything for his skin, but knew it wouldn’t. He turned when he saw you in the door, and you held the clothes out to him.

You stepped outside, waiting for him to get changed. What am I going to do with him? It would be a disaster if your neighbors saw him. You couldn’t take him anywhere, and you couldn’t get rid of the constant slime, but you couldn’t quite let yourself leave him.

You didn’t have a second bed for him to sleep on, so you covered your couch in towels, hoping it would keep the black off of it. You could always wash the towels later.

Salazar came into the room, watching you. You blushed a little, mostly out of embarrassment that you had to cover the couch, which you figured might seem a little rude. He looked completely different in sweats and a t-shirt, and you almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. His hair still floated behind him, defying physics, but the clothes at least made him look like a somewhat normal human being.

“I only have one bed,” you explained. “I hope you don’t mind the couch.”

He gave you a curious look. “I don’t have to sleep.”

“You don’t sleep?” He’s just getting stranger and stranger.

“No.”

You didn’t want him just sitting there for ages while you slept. On second thought, he might be rather used to it, having lived on the Silent Mary in the Triangle. “Do you like to read?”

His eyebrows shot up. “I haven’t read in years. It would be...nice.”

“I think my books will be a lot different from what you’re used to,” you admitted, “but I hope you can find something that interests you.” You went around the house gathering books you thought he might like. You found some latex gloves, too, under the sink, just for good measure. You handed over the gloves with a pained smile, but Salazar didn’t seem bothered.

Eventually, you went to bed, collapsing into it. You were exhausted, but you worried horribly about Salazar, keeping you awake. Sleep finally washed over you as you lay fretting.

When you woke, Salazar was still on your couch reading. A few books lay open around him. He looked almost peaceful like that. When he noticed you entering the room, he glanced up. “I do not understand this one,” he said.

You looked over to see him holding an old copy of The Fellowship of the Ring. “It’s fantasy,” you told him. “Completely made up. It never happened.”

“None of it?”

“None of it.” You realized that fantasy worlds weren’t really a thing in literature where he came from. “That type of story is relatively new.”

“Ah.” He relaxed back onto the couch, and you began playing some soft music from your Alexa as you made breakfast.

You weren’t always in the mood to make food in the morning, so you settled for a bowl of cereal. “Do you need anything to eat?” You figured that if he didn’t sleep, he probably didn’t eat, either.

“No, pequeño.”

You settled next to him and flipped on the TV. He looked up in alarm to hear the voices of the newscasters, and gaped at them through the screen.

“What is this?” he asked in awe.

“The news. They’re reporting on everything that’s happened lately. It’s always pretty depressing.”

He continued to stare, confused.

“It’s a television. It plays videos, or moving pictures. I can play movies, too. Those are just for entertainment. It’s a little like going to a play,” you explained. “But all the people are on the screen.”

“Magic.”

You smiled. “Not magic. Technology.”

You ended up showing him a few different movies, The Fellowship of the Ring included. He was fascinated by it all, always asking questions on how things worked. You answered him as best you could. You realized you’d been watching movies for hours when you noticed how dark the room was getting. One of your hands had ended up resting against one of his gloved ones, and you felt a little flustered.

You got up to make something for dinner. “So, what did you do for entertainment where you came from?”

“I read books, watched plays, attended social events. Spain has the bullfights, too.”

You shuddered. “You went to them, then? The bullfights?”

“Sometimes. They all ended the same. No more gruesome than my own line of work.”

You supposed that was true. The Alexa began to play some classical music as you began making food. You found classical to be soothing, mostly, and undistracting. There were exceptions, of course, but you found that most classical music was calming.

“Do you dance?” You were surprised by the question, and turned to find Salazar looking at you.

“Badly. And I don’t know any sort of dancing that you’re used to.”

“It is not difficult, if you wanted to learn.”

You blushed. “Are you offering to teach me?” “It has been a while, since I last danced, pequeño, but I believe I remember how.”

You nodded, and he stood, coming towards you, a curious look on his face. It was almost as if he expected you to back away, and he was curious to see that you weren’t. He took your hands in his gloved ones, pulling you a little closer. He smiled that unnerving smile of his, and for a moment, he felt imposing to be next to. Then, you realized he might be genuinely trying to smile. It’s a shame, what this curse has done to him.

He guided you through simple steps until you caught the rhythm. It was simple, this dance that he was teaching you, and went well with the music. He spun you under an arm, and you pulled away from each other, attached only by a hand. You’d always wondered what it would be like to dance with someone. It was just as nice as you’d thought would be, despite your company. Though he does have his charm.

He continued to grin, and a little black oozed out of the corner of his mouth. You should have been horrified, but instead found yourself amused. No matter how threatening he might look, he meant you no harm. On the contrary: he was teaching you to dance. Without thinking, you reached out, wiping the black away with a thumb.

Salazar seemed taken aback by the action, but you reassured him, placing your hand back in his and giving him a little smile.

You returned to making dinner. Salazar sat and watched you as you mixed ingredients together. When you joined him at the table, you noticed something was a little strange. What it was, you couldn’t quite tell, so you set to eating dinner. It was a little awkward, having him watch you while you ate. There was still some food left over, so you grabbed him some.

“It will do me no good, pequeño.”

“It’ll do me good. I feel awkward, eating alone.”

He smiled, awkwardly eating as if he hadn’t done it in years. You supposed he hadn’t. He gave a startled noise and looked down at his plate. “I can….taste.”

It was then that you noticed what had seemed so strange to you earlier. “You’re not dripping slime, either.” You stared. There wasn’t a mark of black on him. The corners of his mouth were bereft of their usual black goo, and nothing was running down from his hair into his face. The skin was still cracked, but nothing seeped out from it.

He put a hand to his face, then looked out over his arms and peeled off his gloves. “This is impossible.” He stared wide eyed at himself. “This curse cannot be broken.”

“Maybe you just never knew how to break it.”

“I do not understand.”

“Sometimes, you don’t have to.”

You cleaned off the table, put the tables in the sink, and walked over to the couch to peel away the towels. You flipped on another movie that you liked, and let Salazar join you. He was still shocked. You sat in silence, trying not to overwhelm him. Eventually, you yawned, evidently tired. Salazar looked at you as you rubbed your eyes. He put a careful arm around you, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

For a moment, you were wide awake again, but you relaxed into his arms. You felt him move a little, and he planted a soft kiss on the top of your head. That really got you embarrassed, and you tried hiding it by not looking up at him.

“Thank you, pequeña.”

“Of course,” you answered softly. You leaned up and kissed his cheek, your lips barely touching the skin. You pulled away and smiled at him, bashfully, and he smiled back. The smile was different, now. More human. You ran a hand over his cheek. “The curse is gone now, I think. Your hair isn’t floating any more. And your skin isn’t cracked.”

His eyes went wide, but he softened again. “I think you just needed someone to love you a little.” You blushed at the admission, but didn’t hide you face this time.

“I did, amor.” He cupped one of your cheeks gently with a hand, giving you a sweet kiss before pulling back to let you rest against his shoulder.

“Now that you’re human, are you going to try and find a way back home?” The prospect disappointed you.

“Why would I?” He squeezed your hand. “I have everything I need here.”

#potc #pirates of the caribbean #Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Men Tell No Tales #dead men tell no tales #dmtnt #potc dmtnt #armando salazar #salazar #wiritng #drabble #x reader #self insert #salazar x reader

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 4 years ago

Note

"Explorers raided tombs and paraded the remains of ancient monarchs and dynasties to their homes. Mummies were unwrapped at social affairs and examined—and it was such a popular pastime that tourism companies in Egypt sent such delights to European countries to satisfy their morbid curiosities and struggled to fuel the growing trend."

“So you see,” Sebastian continued, “There is a historical precedent for this sort of thing. I’m hardly the first businessman to notice the wasted resources just rotting away underground. Or stuffed into an urn, depending on customs and family sentiment.”

“There’s historical precedent for a lot of fucked up shit, Shaw. That doesn’t make it okay!” Pyro stared, aghast, at the website. “Does the Council know you’re doing this? They can’t possibly approve!”

“Are you going to run and tattle on me?” Sebastian sneered. “That doesn’t seem like you, Allerdyce, but you have become more of a conformist rule-follower in Krakoa, it seems. At any rate, some of the Council are aware of my side business. They have elected not to bring it to a vote in meetings, so presumably I am breaking no law of the island.”

“But….it’s wrong. It’s bloody grotesque is what it is!” Pyro exclaimed.

“Is it better or worse than burning people to death during a bank robbery, or as part of some half-baked political protest?”

“Oh, give me a fucking break, Shaw!” Pyro snapped. “I know I’ve done some bad things – “

“Some bad things. What an adorable generalization, ducking out of all serious responsibility – “

“I know I’ve killed people, okay?” Not quite as many as some X-Men wanted to pretend, though. He mostly went for guards, police officers and soldiers, who, as far as Pyro was concerned, had it fucking coming. He hadn’t wanted to kill people to rob a bank, and there was never a need to if the civilians were smart enough to stay well back.

“But killing people doesn’t mean I can’t draw any moral lines, ever,” Pyro continued. “And I’m drawin’ a line right here. This is not okay.”

“Why not? Who does it hurt, really?”

“Well, surely the people whose bodies are getting rented out to sickos! No one would want that.” Pyro wasn’t sure he could articulate the sick churning in the pit of his stomach. It was something that went beyond logic, just a deep sense of disgust that seemed to well up from the center of his being. He was an open-minded fellow, he was willing to play fast and loose with a few morals, but surely some things were just….wrong. Right?

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them,” Sebastian said, waving a hand dismissively. “And apparently X-Factor is running some very interesting experiments with discarded mutant corpses over in their appropriately named “Boneyard.” And I’m quite confident that Sinister is probably churning out clones in his little lab, no matter how he might deny it. So whats the harm in my business?”

“Just because other people are doing it doesn’t make it okay! It’s like a….desecration, isn’t it?” Perhaps there was some of his Gran’s staunch Catholicism lurking under the surface, despite Pyro’s current status as…well, not an atheist, exactly, more like an agnostic who didn’t want to think about things too hard. He had to admit, a childhood of Mass and Confession and Hail Marys really got under your skin, no matter how long ago you walked away from the church.

“All this fuss over discarded meat,” Sebastian shrugged. “That’s all it really is when you remove religion and sentiment from the equation. Really, Allerdyce, I’m surprised at your squeamishness.”

“Are you really okay with it, then?” Pyro asked. “Letting some human fuck a mutant corpse? That’s what they’re doing it, isn’t it?”

“Not necessarily. I believe that’s the most common activity, but a few people want to cook and eat choice pieces.”

“Oh, that’s perfectly all right, then.” Pyro’s words were so heavy with sarcasm, they practically thudded onto the floor.

“Understand, Allerdyce, I find all this personally distasteful. I am disgusted by the idea of necrophilia, and even cannabalsim. But I see no reason to deny others, if there is money to be made. The ‘sickos’ will pay top dollar for discrete fulfillment of their taboo desires.”

“But do you really want to be putting mutant corpses in human hands? Haven’t they got scientists trying to study us or clone us or whatever? Put our DNA in Sentinels to make super-weapons?”

Sebastian laughed heartily. “Really, I didn’t think you were so naïve. Mutants have been in the public eye for several decades. The various governments of the world have been capturing mutant test subjects for a very long time. There are hundreds of mutants buried in graveyards and millions in the heavy layer of ash that still covers Genosha. If some enterprising human scientist wants mutant DNA, it would be very, very easy to lay hands on it. In fact, your own corpse is probably preserved in a government lab somewhere. In other words, there’s no point in closing the barn door at this point. The horses are long gone.”

Pyro couldn’t resist a full-body shudder at the thought. He knew, deep down, that his body was probably stuck in a metal drawer somewhere, or cut into chunks sitting in labelled glass jars. The US government had probably been interested in him as a Legacy Virus victim, back before the cure. It shouldn’t matter, but somehow, it did.

“And the bodies are only available for a limited amount of time, at any rate,” Sebastian continued. “Aside from the obvious natural impermanence of a corpse, I’ve had Sinister inject the bodies with a kind of “kill switch.” After five days, the corpse will dissolve, leaving no trace behind. The humans are only paying to rent, after all.”

“But wait…..” Pyro ventured. “What gives you the right to sell other people’s bodies? Shouldn’t they be the ones to profit off that?”

“What gives people the right to collect discarded trash?” Sebastian said, spreading his arms wide. “Would you begrudge the little old lady collecting aluminum cans for a few pennies from a recycling center? Or the struggling student who takes a sofa from the side of the road? That’s all these corpses are. Trash. Their previous owners have shiny new bodies – bodies gifted to them by Krakoa and the Five, by the way – and left no instructions as to disposal. I don’t use bodies from people who requested to be cremated, or some kind of ritual burial. Just bodies have have been carelessly tossed aside, by people who clearly don’t care.”

“Oh, well I’m sure you’ll be happy to explain that to everyone else, then,” Pyro said. “I’m sure they’ll all be totally understanding.” He realized a moment later, with a nervous twinge, that threatening to tell on the unscrupulous businessman while you were sitting alone in his massive castle and no one else knew where you were was a very stupid thing to do. Fuck. He should have at least claimed to have evidence left with a trusted friend or something, but he’d only just stumbled across this, while exploring the so-called “dark web.” Maybe he could bluff his way out of this.

“I told you, some Council members are already well aware,” Sebastian said, sitting back and regarding Pyro across steepled fingers. “I don’t think you’d find those in authority quite as willing to turn on me as you imagine, Allerdyce. In fact, it’s entirely possible that any attempt to inform the public will lead to a hasty mind-wipe for you.”

“I’ve got proof. I left it all on a flash drive with……” Freddy? Dominic? Mystique? “….a friend,” he finished, not wanting to actually put anyone else in the crosshairs. Hell, Mystique might even know about this. He’d like to think better of her, but she always had schemes within schemes going. He wondered which telepath on the Council might be in on this. Was Sinister a telepath? That arrogant piece of shit Exodus? He seemed too high-minded to approve, but that mission in the Savage Land had shown Pyro that Exodus did not give a single fuck about mutants that he considered weak or “unworthy.” Frost? Even Xavier? Pyro had never trusted that creepy bastard. Something about him had always seemed too good to be true.

Sebastian laughed again. “Oh, you think I’m going to kill you? That’s cute. Allerdyce, you are not in some ridiculous detective story. I am a practical man, and despite your bleating about morals, I know you are, too. I am willing to make you an offer. It’s an easy job. All you have to do is ‘keep mum,’ as they say.” Sebastian wrote a number down on a piece of paper, and slid it across the table.

It was, in fact, a very nice number. Enough to make some of Pyro’s disgust quickly fall away.

“After all, why shouldn’t you enjoy the same kind of luxury experienced by Krakoa’s elite? You serve aboard the Marauder, and you’re obviously on the lowest rung of the crew. None of the power and privilege weilded by the X-Men, none of the wealth bestowed by birth on Christian Frost, my own son, and the Von Struckers. And you do significantly more work than for the Hellfire Trading Company than those spoiled idiots. Why not take a little something for yourself?”

Pyro’s mind whirled. Of course, taking the money now would mean he was “in it,” so to speak. And if the secret got out, he’d probably be implicated along with Shaw, at least in the eys of his fellow mutants. Which would hurt a bit, after all his heroics with the Marauders. He was starting to feel, at least a little bit, like a good guy.

But on the other hand, if Sebastian was telling the truth, and some of the Council already knew, trying to tattle would just get him in the shit. It was all well and good to have movies about heroic whistle-blowers, but in the real world, they got slandered, ruined, and sometimes murdered. No one would stand up for a relative nobody like Pyro, especially if Frost and Mystique already knew. At best he’d just get mind-wiped.

It would be safer to just walk away and keep his mouth shut. And if he was going to walk away anyhow, why not pick up a paycheck for it?

They were just corpses, right? What a resurrected mutant didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

And it didn’t seem to actually be breaking any Krakoan laws.

And it was a lot of money.

And Pyro really did like money.

It wasn’t like he was a proper journo anymore, was he? No need for integrity.

Pyro pushed the paper back across the table.

“You’ll need to add a zero to that number before I’ll even consider it,” he said. “And this is just for silence, understand? I’m not gonna be your employee, don’t start expecting me to fetch and carry.”

Sebastian grinned, making a mark on the paper, and held it his hand to shake.

“I knew you’d see sense. It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Allerdyce.”

OOC: I was going to make that sillier, but the more I thought about it…..Sebastian probably would bribe Pyro to shut up, and Pyro would probably just take the money. He’s trying to be “good,” but not that good. Also, no offense intended to Exodus. After the story in the Quicksilver min-series, when Pyro is working with Acolytes on a mission for a supposed Legacy Virus cure (which doesn’t exist), Pyro probably holds a serious grudge against him.

#sebastian shaw #pyro #st john allerdyce

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ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years ago

Text

All That Is Or Was Or Will Be

CW: Character death (no main characters), murder, so much murder, just like a lot of murder, no animals harmed in the writing of this piece, emeto (brief), referenced physical abuse, blood, drugging, knives, mind control, noncon touching (nonsexual), a kind of pet whump, trauma response, creepy whumper, suicidal ideation (brief, of the “wish I had a way out of this” variety)

Killan Josta belongs to @wildfaewhump‘s Iesin and Talvos universe, which Vic is graciously letting me use with their permission to just absolutely ruin Killan in every possible way.

Tagging Killan’s crew: @astrobly @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @slaintetowhump , @quirkykayleetam , @whumpallday , @whumppsychology, @doveotions (if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

With every step, Killan tried to stop walking.

He told himself to stand still, to drop the small bag he held in one hand, to cry out and warn them he was coming. The woods were dark around him, but he never tripped on anything. He never placed his feet wrong. He never stumbled, or struggled. He walked with a perfect, inhumanly smooth stride even as his heart pounded, lurching sickly inside his chest with dread.

He couldn’t stop.

He didn’t want to stop. Or he did, but the want was buried underneath a deeper push, the twining starsong that wrapped him up in Calon Nie's voice.

Take this, you, in secret steps and quietness. Walk til you see, but do not wake. I show you what starsong can do.

Pl-please, no, don't make me do this-

His feet had already been moving.

Calon's teeth flashed in the dark with his smile. You want to see what starsong can do, my pretty human.

He didn’t want to know what starsong could do - and yet he was desperate for the knowledge, wasn’t he? If only to know what he was in for, how terrible it was going to be, what kinds of monster-magic the fae could really do.

He didn’t want to know what would happen to Ren, to Tinch and Vanya and Pyllko… definitely did not want to see what Calon Nie would do to Beron, who had sometimes helped him pack up the camp in the mornings or patted him on the back, ruffled his hair and said, you worked hard today with a hint of pride in his voice as though Killan were his own son and not just a debt-slave…

He had liked Beron sometimes, as much as you could like a man who kicked you in the stomach for eating a second helping of porridge until you threw the first one up or took your food and threw it to dogs to make himself laugh. Killan had been kind of fond of him, worked hard for his approval, been glad that Beron always asked for Killan to sit watch with him at night.

Beron had been mean, could be mean - but he was the only one of them where Killan could mostly predict that violence, and so it was as close to safe as he had been since the day he'd been attacked in town and nearly drowned. He was the only one who’d put together a bit of hot broth or tea when Killan was sick.

Beron took care of him, in between hurting, and no one else did.

What would starsong do to Beron?

He didn’t want to do this, but his feet would not stop moving.

The more he fought against the silvery web of compulsion wrapped around him, the louder the fae’s voice sang in the back of his mind. Eerie twin notes, harmonized with itself in a single voice, soaking into the deepest parts of him. Above him, Calon Nie moved through the branches in nearly-perfect silence, even his wings hidden in the dark canopy of trees.

Buachaill del… pretty boy, you are mo ragnaith, my chosen one. My human. I am all, all was or is or will be, for you.

He did not want to be Calon Nie’s human, but he had no choice.

His mam used to tell a story about a wicked fae who sang away all the children in a village who had not listened to their mothers when it was time for bed, using her hands to make shadowed wings on the wall, while a tiny Killan had watched and listened, wide-eyed and rapt. The fae led the disobedient children right off a cliff just to hover in the air with its awful wings and watch their bodies dash to the rocks below.

You see, then, Killy, why it’s what you must do, to listen to your mam when she sends you to sleep? Otherwise the fae monsters will take you and tear out your throat.

It was just a story to scare children - until it wasn’t.

He would have been less terrified if Calon Nie had simply wanted to kill him and drink his blood and make things out of his bones, like his mam had said fae would. What was happening to him instead was much, much worse, because he was starting to understand that it wouldn’t end, that Calon Nie had some plan for him he wasn’t explaining. Some idea that had led him to want a human boy for his very own. There was some hidden reason he kept measuring Killan’s arms and fingers and legs, pressing on his sides to feel at the ribs beneath, not counting - just saying too much bones, and Killan was both desperate to know what that meant and praying to some dim concept of a forest god that he never, ever would learn.

He couldn’t stop walking, but one hand raised to feel over his neck as he went, the bandage wrapped around it felt too tight, constricting. Calon Nie was not gentle. It covered the sliced-up skin down one side, where Calon Nie had let blood drip down to dry and stain brownish on his collarbone, but it didn’t feel like a bandage.

It felt worse than that.

Killan felt like a collared dog.

He felt like a pet that walked on its hind legs for the amusement of its keepers. Like the little dogs at the harvest festival who could balance balls on the tips of their noses as they ‘danced’, hind-legged, while the people clapped and cheered.

The bandages crinkled, the barest hint of noise in the dark woods. Above him, there was a soft hiss, and Killan’s hand fell back to his side.

Quietness, buachaill del. He didn’t have to hear the words spoken to hear the order. Not any longer.

He could see the camp ahead of him, the fire banked low to embers, the men stretched out in their bedrolls to sleep under the stars. The horses breathing in soft snorts, ears back, heads turned in his direction. They saw him, but they knew Killan - he fed them, sliding the heavy bags up over their noses so they could munch where they stood, even deep in the woods with no real grass to graze on. They weren’t scared of him like they would have been of Calon Nie, and so they made no sound at his approach beyond the softest whicker.

Beron and Tinch were on watch, sitting up with their backs to him for the moment, and Killan opened his mouth to warn them, to say, please, he’s going to kill you-

“Sleep,” The fae in the branches above him commanded. Killan’s knees buckled and he crashed to the ground as the world spun to sudden exhausted wooziness around him.

The last thing he heard was the sound of Beron and Tinch falling forward, too, the soft thuds of their bodies falling into the dirt.

Then, darkness.

He woke to the whisper of Calon Nie’s talons across his back, ghosting over shoulder blades long-scarred by Ren’s punishments for past transgressions. He tensed at the touch of those clawed fingertips, but they didn’t quite cut his skin. Instead, it felt more like Calon Nie played his spine as an instrument. “Wake, only you.” Calon Nie spoke almost gently, almost lovingly. “But be still. Time for the first.”

“The… the first what?” Killan asked, blinking, pushing slowly up onto his elbows with his hips and legs still splayed on the ground. The little bag he had been forced to carry all the way here lay on its side, still tied tightly closed.

He looked around to see the bandits he had lived with were now all asleep - three in their bedrolls, and Beron and Tinch simply slumped on the ground, too deeply unconscious for dignity. Everyone’s breath came deep and even, low snores settling in the air around them. “I thought-...” His own voice was slurred, struggling to come all the way awake even with the command. “I thought you were going to kill-... to kill them.”

“No kill, me,” Calon said easily. “Now. Hold still. Silence, Killan.”

He only said Killan’s real name when whatever he was about to do was going to hurt. Sure enough, when Killan had frozen on the ground like a boy made of stone, Calon’s taloned fingers slipped, for the first time, into his skin.

Killan had begun to hate his name. At least buachaill del, mo ragnaith, pretty boy, my human - at least those names didn’t come with the promise of pain.

He tried to cry out with the sudden burning pain, but no sound came. Compelled to silence, Killan could do nothing but dig his fingers into the loose earth, mouth open in a scream he could not voice, his vocal chords locked tight with starsong wrapped around them. He felt the talon trail through like his mam heating a knife and slicing butter, his skin falling away almost eagerly to either side, leaping to do the fae’s will.

Only when he could feel the blood running did Calon Nie pull back his hand, his head cocking to the side as he held the talons up in front of his own face, slit-pupiled yellow eyes locked on the deep red, colored nearly black in the dark night, running warm and then cool down the palm of his monstrous hand.

“Pretty,” He whispered. “So red, with iron. Dead star, you. But I can give life.”

Killan breathed in gasps against the pain, tears running hot down his face, dripping saltwater to a forest floor that maybe had never seen water and salt mixed before. He couldn’t speak to ask what the fae meant, and he didn’t wan to. He didn’t want to know what life meant to a fae that thought Killan, with his beating heart and red blood, was dead.

“Is time, now,” Calon Nie said after contemplating Killan’s blood a moment longer. “Stand, you. Keep silent.”

Killan’s arms moved, palms pressed to earth, shifting onto his hands and knees even as his back screamed and he wept silent tears into the earth beneath him, blood trickling in a garish tickle down his sides and then soaking into the waistband of his pants, until he stood, swaying. He could be forced to silence but the rictus-scream was stuck on his face, the only expression of his pain he was allowed beyond his labored breathing.

“Good. Now, is time, is time, is time for celebration.” Calon Nie sing-song sang the words more than spoke them in his hissing, sibilant accent. He reached his own hand behind his back and then pulled from the waistband of his own pans an intricately carved dagger made of no metal that Killan had ever known. He was used to Ren’s weapons, all good solid strong iron, poison to the fae and a good defense when you hunted as close to the mountains as Ren did.

This, though, shimmered in the darkness like silver, was carved with the peaks of mountains clear along each side of the blade. Crafted with a sharply angled serration, it looked like something you couldn’t possibly need for hunting.

Calon Nie held the knife out to Killan. “Take,” He commanded, and Killan’s hand moved without him even as his heart dropped, went cold, turned to a block of ice in his stomach. The pain in his back was forgotten, simply overrun by the horrified understanding.

He tried to move his mouth, but the compulsion to silence still held, and he couldn’t do anything more than that.

Calon raised his eyebrows slowly, curious and amused. The moonlight caught his eyes as his chin raised to look Killan in the eyes, turning yellow eyes briefly to a cloudy opalescence, and he seemed somehow more a product of a story meant to scare children than ever. “No questions, you. Time for questions gone.” He drew his hand through the air, a quick sharp dismissal, and Killan felt his stomach twist as some of his own blood flew off Calon’s taloned fingertips and landed on Ren’s face where he lay in his bedroll.

Wake up, Killan begged him, mouth moving, silent. Wake up. Fight him with iron. Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up-

Ren shifted, mumbling to himself in a slurred voice, and wiped at the blood on his cheek.

Then he settled back to unconsciousness again.

Calon Nie swayed lightly back and forth, as if to a rhythm only he could hear, eyes half-closed as his head tilted back and forth with his movements, long black hair that turned nearly white by the ends moving, his wings slightly - deeply auburn reddish-brown on the outside and a layered, striped black-and-white on the inside - spread in the small clearing for balance. He smiled, head tilted up to the moon, to the stars, visible in the perfectly clear night sky.

Without looking away from a constellation just next to the moon - Killan had always known it, three stars in a line and two more above, as the Rider - Calon Nie pointed to Ren, and said, “Slit his throat, Killan. Stop only when no living.”

Killan’s body moved without him to obey the starsong command.

His hands moved steady and sure, one to grip Ren by the hair and yank until his head was forced back, the other to draw the serrated blade across the man’s throat, digging in deep, blood bursting as though a dam had broken, a waterfall of a man’s life soaking into his bedroll, snuffled half-breaths that could no longer be drawn.

Killan’s hand didn’t loosen the grip on Ren’s hair - on the man who had saved him when the robbers threw him in the river, who had owned his life and hurt him and written all the scars on him that weren’t Calon Nie’s - until the man was dead.

Right to death, the fae’s magic held Ren in a deep slumber.

He never woke, before he was gone.

Killan wept for him, his heart burning, and waited for what he knew came next when he let Ren’s head drop onto his bedroll, never to wake again.

“Good,” Calon Nie praised, eyes fluttering half-closed. “Now.” He pointed at Pyllko. “Slit his throat.”

Killan moved to the next bedroll, grabbed Pyllko by his curly hair - he was vain of it, Pyllko, found new women in every town they stopped in, had babies scattered through the land, or so he said - and killed him, too. His hand was dripping red with blood. Pyllko liked to say awful things about the women he saw, but he was like a spoiled selfish boy, younger even than Killan in mind if not in body.

A nobleman’s son, so he swore, who had been banished for something to do with a higher noble’s eldest daughter.

Ren saved me, too, Pyllko had said to him once. I could have died. You should be grateful that he’s got such a big heart for you.

Then Vanya.

Killan forced Calon Nie to give the command for each one, refused to move of his own volition. His eyes were too blurry to see with the tears and he knew his hand was struggling, he was getting Pyllko’s blood in Vanya’s hair, his grip on the blade now slick with red, struggling to hold it tightly enough for the killing stroke.

Vanya, who was cruel and cruel and cruel again, for his own amusement.

Killan still had never wanted him to die.

He killed him anyway.

Now, Tinch.

Tinch, who had ignored him mostly as a child but had started to stare at him as an adult, get too close, look too long. Who joked about sneaking to the river to see what it was about bathing naked there that Killan loved so much.

Tinch, who had a habit of grabbing at Killan’s arms or chin or hair whenever he wanted. This throat, Killan slit with hardly a lick of grief at all. I know what you would have done to me, soon enough, Killan thought, as the man bled to death on his side, his hand lying outstretched. If they were ever found, it might even look like Tinch had reached for his weapon.

He hadn’t.

He would look like he’d had a chance to be brave, when he wasn’t, and he hadn’t had any such thing. But there was a comfort in the idea that someone might find their bones, one day, and think that someone had tried to fight the fae.

Finally… Beron.

Killan stalled, now, fought the starsong as hard as he could, its tendrils wrapping so tightly around him that they felt like new fire licking blue across his skin. He turned to look at Calon Nie, still swaying to the song only he could hear. No, he whispered, still unable to speak.

Calon seemed to hear it, anyway. He opened his eyes and looked at Killan, smiling to show his sharp teeth. “Say no, you?”

Not Beron.

For the first time since the fae had taken him, something dark and ugly passed across his features. Killan had never seen it before, not in relation to him, anyway, but he could read it easily nonetheless.

Calon Nie was jealous.

“Slit. Throat. Now.”

The command was spat instead of sung, but Killan’s hands began to move, and he hitched in a breath, a half-whispered, half-silent sob, his tears falling right onto Beron’s peaceful sleeping face.

Beron would toss his food just to watch him cry over is loss, would smack him around when he took too long at a chore, but he would also tell Killan stories like his mam used to, and volunteer to take him into the shops when they visited towns.

Killan grabbed the hair of the only one of them that had ever offered him an ounce of kindness and he murdered him, too, crying over him as he watched Beron, peaceful to the bitter end, take his very last breath. Then he slumped down to his knees and leaned over him, gripping fingers into the fabric of his shirt like a child clinging to its mother after a nightmare, and cried at the loss of what he hadn’t even known was a better life than what he was now living.

Somehow, Calon Nie did not stop him from grieving. He cried, holding Beron with one hand and the blood-slicked blade with the other, into the man’s slowly cooling body.

He wept for them, and for himself.

Then he straightened his back - singing pain up the tiny cuts Calon Nie had made, but he didn’t care any longer, none of it meant anything and maybe if he was lucky Calon Nie would let him bleed to death here with the closest thing he had left to a family - and threw the silver-colored knife as far as he could into the dark woods.

He heard it land, a rustle in underbrush, and that was all. Whoever found the bodies - maybe they’d find the murder weapon, too.

I killed them. I killed them. I killed them. The word rang round and round inside Killan’s mind, and this time when his stomach twisted he let it lead him, curling himself over on the ground and losing the contents of his stomach across the beaten-down grass and earth. He retched and heaved until his stomach and his back hurt in equal measures, until nothing was left but sour spit and bile on his tongue, until… until nothing was left but his guilt.

Thrall, murderer, fae-led slave boy, you did this you did this you did this you did this-

Ren’s flask dropped to the ground next to his knees and he slowly looked up to see Calon Nie staring down at him, head tilted so far to the side it seemed an impossible angle, evidence of the fluidity, the flexibility of fae bones. “You drink,” Calon Nie said, pointing with his talon. It wasn’t a command, but Killan grabbed the flask up anyway, sucking down the burning liquor inside, letting it wash the taste from his mouth.

But it couldn’t wipe the blood, thick in the air, thick on his hands, thick on his soul.

“Now is me only,” Calon Nie said, firmly. “Only me, you for. I am start and finish and all things. All that was or is or will be. These, gone. Paugh. No need. You may speak.”

“You said-... before, you said you would only make me put the sleeping drug in their water!”

Yellow eyes met his above Calon Nie’s patient, loving smile. “Calon Nie lies.”

“But, you... you have cl-claws, y-... you... y-you could have k-k-killed them y-y-yourself-” He started crying again, now that he could cry openly he let his voice wail, bouncing off the trees and back at him like a physical blow. He let sobs turn to wails and wails becomes screams and he prayed and prayed and prayed someone, somewhere, could hear him.

“I not kill these.” Calon Nie shook his head, and when he held out his hand, Killan could do nothing but take it and let the fae help him, shaking legs and all, to his feet. “Yours to kill. Kill pretty human’s family, I am family now. Done. Those, though…” Calon Nie’s eyes went to the horses, who were pulling on the ties that bound them near trees, ears back, herd animals wanting to run from the smell of blood and the teeth of the predator that stood openly before them. “Those I kill-”

“No. Please.” Killan put a hand on Calon Nie’s arm, smearing it with blood. “Please, Calon Nie, please, n-not the horses, please.”

Why did it matter if he killed them? Killan couldn’t have said. But in that moment, where he felt a mix of guilt and grief shredding him apart, it mattered more than anything that Calon might give him just one hint of mercy.

Calon Nie looked back at him, surprised, and then to the horses again. He sighed, smiling - affectionate and indulgent, as though Killan were a child who had asked for an extra sweet at market. “Más mian leat, buachaill del. Find other food, me.”

Killan nodded, whispering his sincere thanks, hating himself for the depraved gratitude he felt. He grabbed Beron’s sword from his bedroll - it had been all ready for his watch to end but he had never had a chance to use it - and moved to the horses, cutting them free from the tree they’d been tied to, watching them as they fled.

Wishing he could flee, too.

His eyes drifted down to the leather-wrapped hilt of the iron sword in his hand just in time to hear Calon Nie to say, sharply, “Drop sword, you.”

Iron thumped to the earth, useless.

Just like Killan, to everyone but the fae who held him in thrall.

When he turned, Calon Nie was right there, had moved with perfect silence and speed to stand just behind him, and Killan didn’t have to be commanded to hold still under the look in those yellow eyes. The camp smells - fire and smoke and the horses, whatever they’d had for dinner maybe - were overlaid with the thick copper-salt-sweet scent of blood.

Killan would never stop smelling that blood, he thought, no matter how long Calon Nie allowed him to live.

“Mine now,” Calon Nie whispered. “Truly mine, you.” He lifted his hand and Killan shuddered, shivering like a spooked animal as a blood-tipped talon drew lightly over his bandaged throat, not quite cutting the cloth strips, not cutting his skin. The fae moved around him, chin tilted up slightly to look, focused with unsettling intensity as he moved in a slow circle around Killan, tracing a perfect circle around his throat.

The message was clear.

Killan was a collared dog - to be fussed over to set to kill, whichever his master commanded. To the fae, humans were nothing but livestock that could speak, weren’t they? Killan was nothing but a bit of skin with a puzzling habit of having opinions.

“Don’t-” His voice caught, and Calon Nie’s talon came to a stop, just beneath his ear, pressed lightly against his pulse. A trickle of blood ran down to soak into the bandages. “Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t make me kill anyone else.”

“Not worry,” Calon Nie whispered, opening his hand to rest the palm of it against the back of Killan’s neck, bloody taloned twisting and playing with his hair until he thought he might throw up all over again, even though he had nothing left. “Not you, next time.”

Killan’s eyes closed, trying to hide the tears that escaped anyway, the new wash of fear. “N-next ti-... ti-time?” He managed, his voice shaking so badly he could barely get out the words.

Calon Nie went up on his toes, his breath hot against Killan’s ear. “Next time, I kill, for you.”

“I-I don’t n-n-need anyone to, to die for me,” Killan protested, in a hitching half-sobbed whimper. How did he have so many tears in him? It felt like he would never stop crying.

He tried to open his eyes, only to see the men he had murdered with his own hands, and had to close them again. When he broke out in sobs this time, Calon Nie bundled him close, held him in a tight grip with those heavily muscled arms, and petted through his hair with his bloody talons.

Where a bit of Killan’s blood touched his skin, Calon Nie hissed against a faint burn.

“Calm, calm, calm,” Calon Nie sing-songed, soothing and soft. “Calm, calm, my pretty. Did well for your Calon Nie, yes? Did well for me?”

He was a murderer. He had blood on his hands. He had taken men’s lives while they slept, like a coward, like a monster, like a thrall.

“Pretty boy, answer me,” Calon Nie said.

I am the children the fae threw off the cliff, but you won’t let me go far enough to escape you, not even if I died.

Killan hitched in breath, tried to find his voice where it had fled this time, deep within his chest where he knew their lives would stay wrapped up in him, wreckage and ruin, his own fault for being alone in the woods near the mountains. “Yes,” He said, miserable. “Yes. I d-did what you-... what you, gods, what you s-s-said-”

“Good. Good human.” Calon Nie hummed, nuzzling his nose against the side of Killan’s face, sharp teeth entirely too close to the veins in his neck. Killan kept his eyes closed, ground his teeth together, and hoped - for one long drawn-out moment - that Calon Nie would kill him, too, so he wouldn’t have to live like this.

After a long silence, Calon Nie pulled away from him, taking his scent of something metallic and wild with him, and Killan felt the pain in his back all at once, as though the adrenaline and guilt had dampened what he could feel.

Calon Nie smiled at the way Killan whined at the pain.

“Get used to,” He advised. “Back must hurt, for now, all time.”

“What? Wh-why?” Killan looked at the fae, whose eyes had gone back to the stars above their heads, basking in the faint silvery light, in the song he swore he could hear but Killan heard nothing but the beat of his own heart.

Even the birds were silent in the trees.

Even the forest knew when monsters walked.

Calon Nie did not open his eyes when he said, in a voice of perfect bliss, “To ready you for wings, mo ragnaith.”

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aros001 · 3 years ago

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First time read through light novel vol. 8. Random thoughts.

...So...does anyone else feel a little uncomfortable with that cover image between Reinhard and Felt? I mean, I know he's not going to do anything sexual to her and she's not as young as I originally thought she was (I think vol. 1 said she was 15, while ever since the anime I thought she was like 10 or something), but she still is underage, being forced into wearing and doing something she doesn't want to by a grown man, and I think just the way he's got his hand holding her bare thigh makes it feel more sexual than it should be.

Also, is Wilhelm floating? The heck is he sitting on?

Subaru was afraid of death. Dying constantly trashed his life with an unbearable sense of fear and loss. He thought it was like that for everyone; he assumed that was how it had to be. Subaru, who had experienced death more than anyone via Return by Death, didn’t want anyone else to know what it was like.

I'm definitely seeing more similarities between Subaru and Ferris here than I did in the anime. I like how they both have a more unique perspective on life and death than most people would; Subaru from his Return By Death and Ferris from being such a powerful healer (to the point he can even regenerate himself from near death, I guess). Again, for a series where death can be undone so easily, it really knows how to use that premise to show just how weighty and serious death is. While the two will and do kill, it sits with them more than it does for others because they know just how awful death can be.

Something I've really enjoyed when reading through various LN series after watching the anime first is that I end up liking certain characters that I didn't in the anime. I didn't hate Ferris but the cutesy way he talked really bugged me and I didn't focus on him much. Here though I'm definitely getting a better feel for his character, especially with how much he values life, cursing at the suicidal witch cult members for tossing theirs away so easily. He and Subaru's back and forth makes the ending feel that much more heartbreaking when Ferris has to mercy kill the possessed Subaru.

Also, just to clear up any confusion I have, is Ferris in drag or does he identify as a woman? I don't have any problem referring to him from now on as a "she" (I never had that problem with Magne in My Hero Academia) but I'd prefer to get my facts straight. Ferris also makes a joke about Subaru swinging over to his side of the fence but I'm not sure if that means he's gay or not. It's a little hard to tell how far his affection for Crusch runs, for example.

Similarly, there's Julius, a character I never disliked in the anime, but I can definitely see more of a path to him and Subaru becoming friends here. It is funny that a comment from Ferris got me thinking how something to two have in common is how easy it is for them to get others to immediately dislike them just by talking. For Subaru it's because he too often talks without thinking, shoving his foot into his mouth, and for Julius it's how unintentionally snobbish and "better-than-you" he can sound. It's also nice that the story is getting Subaru to try and work through his issues, acknowledging that he's being unfair towards Julius, whom really has done nothing wrong aside from unintentionally pricking at Subaru's inferiority complex.

Like Subaru, I thought demon beasts and monsters were just so common in the world that a barrier around a lord's domain was a very common thing. But from how the other characters in-story are talking, it sounds like Roswaal deliberately put his domain and the village in the center of (or at least nearby) a demon beast habitat. Even in the anime I always believed he knew more than he let on but here he feels like a straight-up mastermind with everything he's been pulling behind the scenes and all the things he's done that, as of yet, have no explanation or reason behind them. Just what is he up to?

One thing I'll say about this series in comparison to some others I've seen/read; the dark magic here, like with the Witch of Envy, Return By Death, the White Whale, and the Unseen Hands, really feels like DARK magic. I've seen series that have their own version of dark magic that'll make bad things happen or summon demons or sacrifice people, but this? Everything to do with the witch feels creepy and unnatural, like it's not or should not be part of the world. With how much suffering it's caused, the mystery behind the gospel, just how unhinged Petelgeuse is and his body jumping, it all feels like stuff you should really not be messing with. Even at the end with Subaru running off and Julius finding him, getting no response at first from Subaru, feels like something out of a horror movie.

Subaru keeps getting asked if he's Pride, to which I'm assuming they mean if he's the one to become the Archbishop of Pride. Personally, my theory is that because of how much the witch seems to "favor" him, Subaru is Envy, like, well, the Witch of Envy and the only one of the seven sins they never mention to have an archbishop, given Satella destroyed the other witches. If that's the case, I can only imagine how much that's going to piss off all the other archbishops, that after all their shows of devotion some schmuck came to their world out of nowhere and became Satella's favorite.

“Lending one’s strength does not mean merely swinging one’s sword. It means challenging the same foes, worrying over the same obstacles, sharing the wounds and the weight of the burdens. This we can do. This is the lesson I learned in the past.”

Obviously this is meant primarily for Subaru but I can't help but think it can apply to Rem and Emilia as well. With the exception of Puck, Emilia tends to go out of her way to avoid involving others in her problems or having them feel they owe her anything when she helps with theirs. Rem dedicated a good chunk of her life to live as her sister's replacement after Ram lost her horn and tried to kill all the demon dogs on her own after Subaru was cursed saving her. They both seem determined to bear the weight of their burdens solely on their own, like they're the only ones who need to suffer. Subaru goes back and forth on how much he involves others in his problems, but while he's more than willing to help ease the burdens on others, his problem for the longest time was that he was so fixated on "swinging his sword", as he thought fighting and strength was the only way to help (probably because strength would honestly solve a decent chunk of his own problems).

“Two days ago, the forest around the mansion became unnaturally calm... to the point that even my eyes could catch nothing. Thereupon, an armed group appeared bearing the crest of the House of Karsten, which had declared war with the blank letter... Surely you cannot blame my little bird’s heart for being on the verge of breaking?”

Ram, I had no idea how much I missed you until you came back.

Namely, that someone out there had swapped his letter of goodwill, aiming to turn Emilia and Crusch against each other.

I don't think a line or speculation like this was in the anime, which it probably should have been. Without it, it just seems like Subaru's an idiot and made a stupid mistake, but now it seems like someone is directly manipulating events behind the scenes. Personally, I'd say my money's on Roswaal if I didn't have terrible luck when it comes to gambling.

“Silence! Cease your prattle! Give that book back, right—”

“Hey, don’t shout. If you get too angry, you know—your brain’ll shake.”

...

“G...gah...! How dare you, dare you, dare youuuu! My disciple of love!!”

“Don’t gimme that, you’re the one who mixed us up! Tunnel vision! What, are you lazy?!”

HA!

Overlord was the first light novel series I read (the only other LN I'd read before was Death Note: Another Note - The Los Angeles BB Murder Cases and that was years ago), so naturally it's the series I tend to make the most comparisons to for the other series I've been reading. In this case, something I really like about both Ainz and Subaru is that, despite how they're presented sometimes, neither is actually stupid (though they too often suck at reading the room). They're both just in situations way over their head and they have no frame of reference for how to deal with these fantasy world situations. Subaru, like with tricking Sloth into getting attacked by demon beast or figuring out what was up with the flowers, has plenty of times where he shows he can come up with decent plans or quick thinking that can pull off a win. His flaws are based more in his own immaturity and need to grow more as a person.

Honestly, Ainz and Subaru are fun to compare because, of the LN MCs I've read so far, they both seem to get every break the other doesn't. Ainz is obvious. He's got actual power, tons of resources, and numerous people whose faith in him is absolute, while Subaru has almost nothing save for the curse and the clothes on his back and has to continuously struggle to make any difference. On the other hand, Ainz has no one in his life he can relate to or be his real self around, making him feel incredibly empty and lonely, while Subaru has attracted a surprisingly wide web of people around him whom, despite some hiccups, do genuinely believe in the real him.

I am 90% certain Emilia and Puck fighting Sloth wasn't in the anime. Well, no wonder anime-only fans have trouble liking her when you cut out nearly all of the character's best sh*t! [Edit: I was wrong. Another post pointed out it was at the end of ep 23. Like I said, it's been a bit since I saw the anime and I remembered none of this fight. Though I still stand by that LN Emilia is better than anime Emilia] Like I've said before, it's not like anime Emilia could just be replaced with a sexy lamp and nothing would be different, but compared to the LN version she really didn't get a lot to do in the anime outside of the first arc. She wants to be queen and sometimes heals people. Otherwise she was mostly off-screen or serving as Subaru's object of affection (and sometimes obsession). Just being able to fight isn't everything but Emilia here certainly feels like she has a lot more fire to her personality and does more when she appears. She's not just a nice, pretty girl for the MC to fight for.

Somehow, he’d died again. He’d probably lost it all once more.

He surrendered everything to the abyss. This was the familiar embrace of failure after he pathetically lost his life.

Look back at the world.

Look back at your failures.

Don’t forget. Don’t forget. Do not forget.

Ferris’s tear-filled voice. Wilhelm’s lament, shaking with regrets. Julius’s resolve and remorse, so great he probably gnashes his teeth over it—Don’t forget, ever. No matter how low you are, don’t ever let go.

Is this Satella saying this to Subaru? I'd assume so since it ends with the "I love you" line Subaru's been getting before he RBDs. But if so, why is she saying this to him? One theory is that she has her own regrets from her life and is giving Subaru a chance not to have the same. That assumes she is a good person and that the stories around her are wrong. Another theory, given the Witch of Envy title, is that she's insisting Subaru never let go of what's his. It's his (and hers, since he is hers) and no one else can have it. I mean, that applies more to greed than envy, I suppose, but stretching a bit you could say she'd be jealous of a world moving on without her.

Original Reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/Re_Zero/comments/gwjfwy/novels_first_time_read_through_light_novel_vol_8/

#re:zero #random thoughts #reddit repost

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littlesparkyabdl · 4 years ago

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Adventures In The Little Hotel

It was a legend in this old town of Hollow, the legend of the haunted hotel atop the mountain peak.

The legends claimed those who dared enter would never want to leave or more so accurately were made to stay, with only one being able to leave to let the legend spread.

This brings us to our heros of this story, Kyle, Zack and Evan, Each of these boys were part of the supernatural investigation squad. Their goal was simple, prove the existence of the supernatural and become famous world wide. But will their goals be accomplished in this adventure, the only way to tell is to follow their tale.

First we venture to Evan, a pale boy who constantly surfs the web for any scoop he can find, eyes as blue as the sky and hair a sparkling brown. With his new scoop of the haunted hotel he quickly contacted his comrades to inform them of his discovery that was buried with the elders of the town, with only whispers ever being heard.

Next we’re brought to Zack, the tallest of the group with hair as black as the night and his grey eyes glistening with hope. Zack was constantly beaming with hope when searching for the supernatural, its one of the few thing he ever gained an interest in. He isn't the smartest of the group but if he weren't there the group would of given up a long time ago.

And finally we come to Kyle, a tanned boy who was short in stature but made up for it with his intelligence, his hair black with three grey streaks running down the side, his eyes a dull silver. He always would say he was just with the group to prove that the supernatural doesn't exist but in reality he completely believed in it.

With each of the boys contacted and rearing to go they decided to meet at their usual spot, a small cafe near the edge of the town, with each of the boys ordering a milkshake before they venture onto their quest. Kyle with the chocolate, Evan with the strawberry and Zack with the orange. With their drinks consumed they could begin their adventure, they begin making their way down the street through the dark wood path, trees guiding them to their destination.

“T-this place is awfully creepy, and we aren't even in the hotel yet” proclaimed Zack with a slight stutter, his pace slowing down slightly.

“Quit being a coward, This is surely going to be our scoop of the century!” responded Evan.

“For someone who’s supposed to be excited about ghosts you sure do scare easily Zack” said Kyle in a demeaning tone

“Me scared! As if!” responded Zack trying to be manly but failing as he trips on a crack in the path, falling face first into the ground with his baggy pants slowly falling down to reveal his Barney printed briefs.

Giggles were heard from the other two boys seeing the oldest of the group wearing such childish underwear, With Zack hurrying to his feat pulling his pants back up he said to the others in a flustered tone “I-its not like you two wear anything more mature!”

“compared to what you wear anything would be considered mature” Kyle remarked with more giggles coming from Evan

With the situation dying down they started to continue their way to the haunted hotel, they reach the bottom of the mountain and look to see what looks to be an endless staircase going up the mountain with the end barely in sight, the stairs were large and made of wood, able to break at any moment with being as old as they were. As they finish examining the stairs they start to venture forth and make their way up one step at a time, though if they paid more attention they would of noticed the bus that used the road to get to the top of the mountain, though it was hardly ever used.

Going up each step creeks and cracks were heard, with scuttering coming from the bushes lining the mountain. If you looked closely into the darkness you would see small critters scattering about with eyes seeming to glimmer through the lights that were laid out so sparse through the mountains stairs, just enough to see the steps but blinded to everything else.

10 minutes into the journey of the stairs the boys came to a stop needing a break, who knew it would be so difficult to get to the top. As they came to a stop Zack soon noticed his bladder calling for release.

“err… guys I haffa pee…” Zack said as he started to hold onto his crotch.

“heh, my next biggest scoop will be proving Zack to be a pants wetter” came Evan in a sly tone.

“everyone already knows that though, not much of a scoop If ya ask me.” came Kyle with a taunting tone.

“h-hey! I’m not the one that couldn’t stop wetting the bed until I was 10” Zack said in response while flustered.

“now that is a scoop worth reporting on” Evan said in a humours tone.

“y-you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about that!” Came Kyle in a whiney tone.

“technically I didn’t…” Zack responded with with slight guilt in his voice

“how about we have some fun, whoever pees them self first, gets to carry all of our stuff the rest of the way up the mountain and it gets reported in the paper. Of course it wont be all the way up as we should start walking up again soon otherwise we wont get there until morning ” said Evan in a taunting manner knowing full well both would accept.

As if on cue both the other boys said “your on!” and so their journey up the stairs continued after their 5 minute break.

As their journey continued up the stairs it wasn’t even 10 minutes before a whimper was heard coming from one of the boys. With both Evan and Zack looking back they saw what was happening, Kyles legs wobbled as he slowly fell to his knees his bladder giving out and a puddle forming. As this happened a storm came out of nowhere, thunder heard and lightning struck. All bets where off as Zack and Evan helped Kyle from his vulnerable position, the three boys hurried up the rest of the stairs though they seemed to reach the top quicker than they though they would, in fact had had it that it would of taking another 30 minutes to reach the hotel but they made it in 10.

As the boys quickly approached the door they took in the damp surroundings of the hotel, withered plants broken stone paths wooden fencing waiting to give way to the storm. It was a gloomy looking place though the lack of lighting didn’t help.

As they went to open the door it opened on its own, a light forming from the entrance as a ghastly man was waiting at the entrance. The man was pale and had a chill around him, he was dressed as a butler. He must be the caretaker of this old place the boys thought, though if they paid a little more attention they would realise that the light coming form inside the building wasn’t shown through the windows, it was as if it was and entrance to another world.

“welcome home young masters” came the voice of the strange looking man.

“home?” all the boys questioned in unison.

“it is how we greet all our guests at this hotel of ours, I shall be your guide tonight. I am the butler for the lord of this building” the man said now announcing himself as a butler for the estate.

Looking at the boys the man could smell a faint smell of urine coming from one of the boys, maybe two of them he thought.

“hurry inside before you catch a cold” the butler stated as he hurried them in. Little did they know this would be what sealed their fate for their future.

As the boys entered the building they quickly dropped their bags, and quickly dried off with the towels provided by the maids that seemed to appear from nowhere.

“quite the unexpected welcome, I thought this place was supposed to be haunted.” said Evan as he took in the surroundings.

“well the building was supposed to be abandoned” said Kyle taking note of the sudden his his surroundings also.

“who cares, we’re wet and still need a bath these towels will only do so much” said Zack not paying too much attention to anything as his hair poofed up from the rain.

“young masters we do have a shared bathing area available for use, its already filled with warm water. We will also bring a change of clothes for you lot to use. I’m sure our options will please you all.” said the butler as he started to guide them to the bathing area without giving it much thought.

As the boys were guided to the bathing area the maids took their bags and moved them into storage.

As the butler arrived at the bathing area with the boys he motioned to the changing area and said “your new clothes will be placed in here and your old ones will be washed thoroughly.”

Zack was the first to go charging in excited to get a warm bath, he was surprised that this place wasn’t scary in fact he found it rather relaxing.

“if I didn’t know better id think he was a kid with how he acts.” came Kyle with a sigh.

“he has the right idea though plus you do smell from your incident earlier…” came Evan wincing at the odour coming from his friend. “though it isn't as bad now that Zack went away…” Evan noted to himself.

“w-whatever! Lets just get in the bath” Kyle responded while turning as red as a tomato.

“well you probably wanna get changed first” Evan said with in a cocky tone with a smirk forming on his face.

“young masters if you would please hurry as you friend is probably getting lonely without you” the butler said with a sigh noticing that these boys are probably going to cause some trouble if their not disciplined.

The two boys joined Zack in the changing area, with Zack already down to his Barney briefs.

“What took you two so long” asked Zack as he attempted to cover the front of his briefs to avoid his friends from seeing a pee stain.

“i wouldn’t bother hiding your little accident, I can already smell it from here” came Evan in a sly tone as he started to strip from his fairly raggy clothes.

“w-when did you find out!” came Zack in a pouty tone stomping his foot a little, and putting his arms to the side forgetting about his current predicament.

“when you left to get changed first, the smell wasn’t as bad” said Evan in a teasing tone.

Kyle remained silent as he removed his shorts and vest revealing a light blue pair of briefs, though not as childish as Zack he got a few giggles from the boys and a few maids passing by the changing rooms, again the maids appearing from nowhere.

Both Zack and Kyle blushed as they heard the maids and tried to cover themselves with their hands, though this only made them look more childish than before.

As Evan stripped he was left in nothing but a paid a boxer briefs, they were snug against his body and fit him fairly well, they were black and made from a fairly stretchy material.

The boys in unison stripped of their underwear revealing their privates too each other, they hadn't bathed together since they were young so some changes had been made, well perhaps not for Zack he was still lacking in the growth department.

The boys ventured into the bathing area from the changing room, steam filled the air from the heat of the bath and a sweet aroma filled the air. Each of the boys started to relax in the bath taking in the sweet scent almost going into a trance like state, that was until and even stronger aroma was starting to flow into the room.

Zack was the first one to get up, following the pleas of his nose he followed the scent until he was stopped by his friends.

“aren't you forgetting something Zack?” Kyle said while pointing to Zacks lower half.

“i have to agree going around like that wont look good for us yaknow, how will we get a scoop if people become creeped out by us!” Came Evan in an annoyed tone.

As if on cue Zack flared a bright red as he quickly grabbed a towel and covered himself up.

“heh… my bad” came Zack in a sheepish tone.

“young masters is everything alright, I heard a commotion?” Came the butler as he entered the changing area with their new clothes.

“someone forgot he was naked and tried to run all over the place” came Evan answering the butlers question.

The butler sighed as he glanced over the boys “it seems he isn’t the only one who forgot they weren’t wearing anything, ill have to fix this myself” he said too himself but loud enough for the boys to hear.

Kyle and Evan both blushed once they realised they were on full display.

“wait… how will you handle it?” came Kyle in a curious tone.

As soon as he asked Kyles arm was grabbed by the butler, he was put into a pair of power ranger training pants, a dinosaur tshirt and a blue set of shortalls. Kyle blushed as the butler handled him with such expertise as if he had done it before.

“lets see, hmm you’ll be next” the butler said as he grabbed Zack, also putting him into a pair of training pants though these were Barney themed just like his old briefs, he was surprised they came in his size but his surprise was cut short when he was put into a dinosaur onesie and a pair of overalls though these ones seemed to have buttons tailing the inseam of the leg.

“a-aren’t these a bit babyish…” asked Zack while blushing at his current attire.

“they suit you quite well and I’m certain you enjoy them” said the butler with a grin, “you two may of also noticed the padding built into your new undies, this is to prevent any further accidents while your at the manor” the butler said while moving over to Evan.

“i can dre-” Evan said before he got cut off by the butler grabbing him and putting him into a pair of sonic briefs.

“it seems your slightly more mature than the two piddle pants so I’m allowing you the privilege of normal undies, don’t mess it up” the butler said as he then put Evan into a pair of blue shorts and a t-shirt with a large star on the front.

Each of the boys were left blushing from their current experience, they hadn’t been dressed by someone since they were kids, not to mention the clothes they were wearing it made them look like children.

“this certainly wasn’t the scoop I was expecting…” Evan said to himself with a sigh before starting to giggle to himself.

“what’s so funny?” Zack and Kyle said in unison before they themselves started to laugh at themselves and each other.

This wasn’t how they were expecting the night to go, sure they expected someone to wet themselves but the change of clothes, the change of undies it was all completely unexpected to them. Once their laughter had died down they started making their way to the dining area, to their surprise the room was huge, surely all these large sized rooms couldn’t fit on the first flow Evan thought to himself before the smell of food started to flood the room.

As if it were magic the tables were all set, red and white cloths draped over the tables with a golden trim, the silver cutlery was displayed at each seat and there was more tables that what they’d expect. You could fit at least 300 people in the dining area easily.

As the boys went to pick their own seat they were picked up by the maids, once again appearing out of nowhere and carried over too a set of plastic tables and chairs, they were clearly meant for children to sit at, the table was red and the seats came in a variety of colours.

“Hey! What are you doing!” shouted all the boys in unison, the maids lets out a ghastly giggle before saying in unison “children always eat here” it echoed through the room as a silence feel when they spoke, the boys sat in silence.

Zack remained still scared at their response, it was as if they were all one entity he though to himself.

Kyle simply thought they had rehearsed it the the thought of the undead did cross his mind.

Evan was simply mentally taking notes, he was almost positive this is what he was looking for though his mind thought process started to change once food was set onto their plastic tables.

The food laid out were varied from meats to vegetables and even fruits, the maids provided plastic plates for the boys as set good portions onto each of them, a nice chunk of broccoli, some carrots and peas. Then came the meat, dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets with slices of ham to the side. The fruit was left in a bowl for the boys to help themselves too.

“this meal is awfully… healthy…” Zack said to himself, he normally ate burgers, fries and pizza. He certainly wasn’t the healthiest when it came to food but he still had a slim frame from all the ghost hunting he did.

“its seems better than what I get at home” said kyle, he wasn’t a healthy eater though it wasn’t by choice he just didn’t have the funds to buy healthy food, though thinking of fund a thought came into his head. “how are we going to pay for all this” Kyle said realising their money was in their old clothes.

“this is all on the house” came the familiar voice of the butler as he approached them from behind.

“the master and mistress of the estate shall be joining us tonight, you should count yourselves lucky you got a change of clothes. If you remained in your… how do I put it… rags, yes rags. You surely would have been punished. They have a very strict dress code for young masters such as yourselves” said the butler glancing over them all with a devilish smile.

As soon as the butler finished talking a rather well dressed couple entered the room, the lady was dressed in a dress that looked as if it were for royalty it had a golden trim along all the edges, her hair was long and blond with what seemed to be golden jewels tying it up. The man was dressed in a nice fitting black suit accompanied with a red tie. Then following them were multiple sets of young men dressed similarly to the first man though they were in a blue suit instead of black, they also had a bow tie instead of a regular tie.

“these must be the new boys I requested” said the Lady “you lot can call me mother, just like the rest of my boys do. We are all a family here do you understand” she said in a commanding voice.

The three boys just nodded knowing that if they messed up something bad would happen.

“I’m sure they will be warmly welcome into our family” said the man in black, “you can call me either sir, farther or daddy. do you boys understand?” asked the man in black sternly.

The boys once again nod in unison.

“i said do you understand! I expect you to steak when I speak to you” shouted the man in black

“yes daddy!” came Zack with a blush as he realised what he said.

“yes sir!” came both Kyle and Evan, both of them noticing that Zack said daddy the least mature of the options.

“good boys” the man in black said, grinning at Zacks response knowing he hit gold with this new set of boys.

With greeting finished the woman and the man in black head to their table, it was much larger than the rest and had two chairs that looked as if they were thrones. They are the first too sit down other than the boys as they were the first to arrive, and the babies of the house weren't expected to stand.

Once the Mistress and the Master have sat down the rest of the men follow their example and sit at the remaining tables.

“Henry, what’s being served today” asked the Mistress to the butler.

“today we will be serving smoked chicken with a vegetable soup and bread on the side mistress Helena” came the butler now known as Henry.

“how come none of us asked his name” came Zack while stuffing his face with the chicken dinosaurs.

“h-how can you be eating at a time like this!” came Kyle realising the trouble their in.

“if we don’t hurry we might be stuck at this estate for god knows how long, I don’t know about you guys but I don’t think this scoop is worth that!” Said Evan starting to realise they may be stuck here for more than one night.

“who cares they’ll probably let us go once we start some trouble” said Zack while pushing the rest of his food away until a slap came to his wrist by one of the maids, this quickly made him eat the rest of his food.

“we can talk about this later” said Kyle in an agitated tone, he knew something was fishy about these people but he didn’t know what yet.

“i agree though id prefer we get out of hear as soon as possible” said Evan before he started to eat his food

Helena and the man in black smirked as the boys ate the food, knowing it was finalising what they needed.

Once dinner was over each of the boys started to feel drowsy and it was starting to show.

“maids take the boys to their room” ordered Helena as she stood up and wiped her hands of the food.

Once ordered the maids did as told and picked up each of the boys, the maids seemed to have inhuman strength as normal maids wouldn’t be able to pick up boys that were this size, though perhaps not so for Kyle, he was both small and light as so not much strength would be needed for him. The maids walked up the stairs and went into a singular room decorated with blue walls with a cloud pattern on them, an extremely large bed big enough to fit 5 people, plushes covering one side of the room and what looked to be a changing table on the other side of the room.

Each of the boys were placed on the bed and is if on cue fell asleep instantly, though if they were awake they would notice that the hotels walls outside their room started to move, doors shifted and some vanished never to be seen again.

As the night grew longer and longer the boys started to awaken, though as they awoke each of them bent over noticing a crippling cramp in their stomachs as they went to leave the bed to find a bathroom bars shot up preventing them from escaping.

The shock from the bars sudden movement made Zack jump back distracting him from his stomach, as soon as that happened a foul smell filled the air and his overalls starting to grow in the back, a warm feeling spread across his backside the smell knocking the others dizzy. It was that dizziness that caused the other two boys to fall victim to their stomachs pleas.

each of the boys passed out from the smell not knowing if they would wake up again.

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aroseandapen · 4 years ago

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Gonta and Kokichi accompany Miu to her favorite place, where everything suddenly goes horribly wrong.

Junk and litter towered high above their heads, cobbled together in complicated structures that would collapse if the wrong piece was pulled out. These structures formed a sprawling web of a maze, made of walls that creaked ominously as they swam by. With smaller inhabitants occupying the space and hiding places the towers provided, it was quite literally a trash city. A trash-land, made up of the junk that humans had continuously dumped overboard for well over a millennia.

Kokichi kept himself glued to Gonta’s side, casting doubtful looks up at the junk towers.

“Geez, I don’t know what you see in a creepy place like this,” he said. A shiver ran down his spine. The structures flooded the entire area with shadow, the water around them cold with foreboding. Also with the lack of sunlight. His voice lowered to a grumble. “What a weirdo.”

Gonta abruptly stopped swimming, so suddenly that Kokichi hit the brakes as well. He angled his tail fin sharply down, so that the drag of the water took out his momentum. “That’s really mean. Miu likes this place.”

Kokichi pouted, crossing his arms. He flipped over, his tail providing some distance between the two of them. Gaze averted, he said, “I’m only joking, Miu knows that. Right, Miu?”

Miu hadn’t stopped, already quite a bit ahead of them. She now hovered over some trash that bulged from the base of one of the towers, tilting her head. Kokichi didn’t know what she saw in the mess of glass and jagged metal, but evidently she saw something promising there, because she failed to respond to Kokichi.

He huffed, annoyed at being ignored. “Hello? Isn’t that right, Miu?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, don’t get your fins in a twist,” she said unsatisfactorily. Her gaze remained fixed on the pile. “Hm… oh! This is perfect!”

She snaked her arm down into a gap in the junk. Up to her elbow, she felt around for whatever she’d found. Then, finding it, she pushed back off the pile.

Or she tried to, at least. Halfway out, she jerked to a stop as she met resistance. Just as she did, Gonta jumped. He jerked his face up, his expression twisted with worry as he regarded the tower. Kokichi picked up on it, following Gonta’s gaze.

He saw nothing wrong, but a pit of dread formed in his gut.

Miu gave another tug, and Gonta’s shoulders hitched.

“Um, Miu?” he called out to her, letting himself drift forward on a flick of his tail. “I don’t think you should--.”

“Got it!” she exclaimed, and with one last tug yanked the object from the pile.

Finally, Kokichi heard what Gonta must have already picked up on. As the rusted part came free, a wailing groan reverberated in the current. He flinched; both his and Miu’s eyes shot up to the tilting tower. Motion further dislodged more junk from the heap and, like a house of cards, it caused even more to fall as the structure collapsed.

“Miu!” Kokichi exclaimed, reaching out a hand, but he flinched back as debris rained down. Eyes wide, it was as if all he could do was watch as Miu shrieked and covered her head, too much to swim away from. The towers bore down on her.

A sudden strong vortex of water slammed into him. He spun in place, head over fin in a dizzying tumble. When he regained control, he realized it had been Gonta who’d knocked him over, shooting straight past him with powerful beats of his tail. Kokichi gaped, calling out for Gonta as he lunged into danger. His arms wrapped around Miu, securing her against his chest.

And the towers came down around them.

“Gonta! Miu!”

Great clouds of sand rose into the water, disturbed by the falling trash. Kokichi couldn’t see the rubble where once the unstable structure stood; he could only imagine, with a constricted chest, the carnage that must remain. Terror spun his head, thoughts racing too fast for him to grab hold.

Miu, Gonta… Just like that, the two of them…

The sand began to settle; shadows shifted. Then, out of the dispersing cloud, Gonta swam out with Miu secure in his arms.

Relief gushed through him so powerfully that Kokichi sank to the ocean floor. It was an uncharacteristic display of emotion for him, he knew, but still he couldn’t stop trembling. They were ok. They were both ok.

Miu pressed her forehead hard into Gonta’s chest, gripping his shoulders so tightly that her knuckles were blanched white. Her shoulders shook, voice tremulous as she at last spoke, “Y-you just… h-have to jump at a chance to… h-h-hold me, huh?”

Where normally her tone would contain scorn, now there was none. Shaky and barely choking down a sob, Miu still hadn’t fully processed what had just happened.

“I am so glad you’re ok, Miu,” Gonta said, ignoring her chosen words to hug her close. Gentle for him, yet firm all the same; Kokichi knew from first-hand experience how much strength those thick, muscular arms possessed.

He’d felt it, too, when Gonta raced past him to get to Miu in time.

“D-dummies. You’re both, so dumb.” Tears, real ones, came to his eyes. He sobbed, clapping his hands over his mouth too late to stop it. “That should be… my line. G-geez!”

If that had really been the end, Kokichi didn’t know what he would do. No doubt his entire world would have shattered, like the tenuous pile of junk that had towered over the area. He couldn’t have handled it.

But that hadn’t happened. Thanks to Gonta’s quick action, they were both safe and alive. And, as the sand began to settle back over the previously-shadowed, chilling area, the sun began to filter through to shine on it once again.

#ougokuruma #irougoku #ougoku #gokuruma #kokichi ouma #miu iruma #gonta gokuhara #drv3 #drabble #mermaid au #what taaag do i use for them wth

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neonacity · 3 years ago

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LUCID | NCT DREAM ‘00 LINE X READER | CH.8

LUCID DREAMS - A TYPE OF DREAM WHEREIN THE PERSON IS AWARE THAT THEY ARE CAUGHT IN A DREAM WORLD.

Genre: yandere, horror, suspense

TW: abuse, obsessive behavior, toxic relationships, suggestive scenes, stalking, kidnapping, mental health. Age gap–though nothing dramatic. Everyone is of legal age, drugs, questionable consent (?), kidnapping, mentions of suicide, I guess? Creepy, creepy, creepy! This will be updated as the story goes along.

“I LOVE YOU AS CERTAIN DARK THINGS ARE TO BE LOVED. IN SECRET, BETWEEN THE SHADOW AND THE SOUL.”

- PABLO NERUDA

"Didn't I tell you not to put your elbows on the table when you're eating?"

The little girl froze in her seat at the hard-clipped voice that came from the head of the table. She didn't need to look at him to know that the man was glaring at her, his eyes drilling down her skull. As if on autopilot, she lifted her arms just like he wanted while her fingers trembled around her cutlery. Around her, the other occupants continued eating like they heard nothing, almost as if she was a mere ghost that didn't belong there.

"I'm sorry, Papa."

Her voice was soft… respectful, but the man in front of her curled his lips as if she spat her words out in disgust. Silence cloaked the air between them, him gauging his next actions, while she waited for the explosion.

The wooden chair scraped loudly against the marble floor before it fell back with a thud as he pushed it back angrily. With wide, fearful eyes, the girl watched him stride towards her spot at the other end of the table. A sob was torn from her the same moment that he grabbed her roughly by the forearm to forcefully pull her out of her seat.

"Papa, please—!"

"You are such a useless child. I feed you and clothe you, and you can't even act like a civilized girl on the table," the man heaved, barely looking at the girl struggling in his arms as he pulled her down the hallway.

"I won't do it again!"

"You need more lessons. More discipline," the monster continued to mutter, the look in his eyes too far gone. A sinking feeling at the pit of her stomach made her cries turn into wails as she realized where the two of them were going. There is no mistaking it, with her having been dragged in the same hall again and again.

"No! No! Not here!" Her voice rose higher until her throat hurt, but it still didn't stop him from pulling a key from his pocket to unlock the oak door in front him. He barely even looked at her when he hurled her up again before throwing her inside the dark room.

She had barely managed to get up when he started to close the door again. His last words echoed in the four walls caging her before he finally locked her in, letting the shadows swallow her whole.

"You won't be allowed to go out until you learn your lesson."

*******

You bolted from your bed with a gasping breath. Eyes wild and hair messy, you desperately tried to grab and pull the blanket around your shaking form for safety. Your teeth were chattering as if you were cold, despite the rays of sun streaming from your slightly parted curtains.

Your lungs hurt as if you were running for miles and your heart was beating hard against your ribcage like a caged bird. You curled your legs close to your chest now and let your head rest on your knees as you worked to shake away the traces of the nightmare that lingered on your still recovering consciousness.

Ever since you were imprisoned here, the first few seconds after you wake up have been your only reprieve. It's the only part of your waking days when you could fool yourself about the reality of your situation, that fleeting moment between dreams and reality where you could conjure a semblance of safety. And yet even that was torn away from you today with the fresh nightmare that startled you awake, making you feel like you escaped one hell just to find yourself in a new one.

At the back of your mind, you were wondering if you've been given any drugs again to trigger such graphic scenes in your sleep. At this point, you wouldn't put it past the boys after what they have done to you; and yet, you know the possibility of that is slim for now. You haven’t eaten anything for the past few days, and you’ve been unresponsive for the most part even when they would visit you in your room.

Actually, you've stopped functioning entirely at one point in time. You don't really know how long you've been stuck here, but at some point, there was something inside you that just gave up. You've gone through the different stages of grief and anger. You tried screaming, fighting, begging, and crying with no success of reaching anyone who could help. Meanwhile, it drove you to madness how all of your captors would act the same—as if you were just a petulant child who was having tantrums that they had to be patient for now. In reality, however, you know exactly what they want from you.

They were waiting for you to be tamed. To be broken.

And they did. They broke you, though not exactly in the way they wanted to. Jeno no longer has to be sent to "calm you down" every time you try to act up and your screams can no longer be heard down the halls after Haechan would end his visit. Instead, you remained silent, like the lifeless doll they’ve wanted you to be. Not even Jisung or Chenle, who you've noticed they started to send for your meals after you've lost your appetite, could shake you. You simply… gave up.

That didn’t stop you, however, from fighting in your own way. As you retreated into your own internal world, you dedicated a part of your attention to closely observing what was happening beyond your locked door. Your time here has given you a brief idea of what's happening, at the very least, and the role each of the boys play in this twisted game.

From what you could piece together, it was really the four brothers who would stay the most within the house, so you presumed Jisung and Chenle still go back to the manor every now and then. From the voices that you hear, the older ones would sometimes slip away too, but you would always have at least two left in the house with you. The only thing you could think of as the reason is that they were trying to still put up a front of normalcy—after all, if people are searching for you, it is likely that their family will be looked into.

Jeno and Jaemin are usually the ones who would be left with you, too. Jeno because he is usually the one who would be there to stop you whenever strength is needed and Jaemin… because he simply couldn't part from you. Of the four, he is always the one who would visit your room the most, sometimes to just talk to you casually or doll you up in his own twisted ways.

Renjun and Haechan couldn't be any more different from the two. Unlike the former duo who would be more touchy or physically intimidating in their presence, the pair would be more picky with their visits. Ironically, moments with them are the ones you hated the most, because every time they would drop by, you feel like you are always playing a losing mental game.

Renjun is soft spoken, so much that he could match your silence whenever you refuse to acknowledge his presence. Once he visited you and did nothing but sit beside your bed, staring at you intently as if he was trying to memorize your every feature. There was also a day when you woke up to an odd feeling in your empty bedroom, and it was not until you found a rough sketch of yourself on your bedside table when you realized that you weren't alone through the night while you were sleeping.

Haechan, on the other hand, was a different breed. If you were to describe him, it was like getting toe to toe with the son of the devil himself. It wasn't hard for you to put together… how he is the mastermind behind everything. Each brother pulls their own weight, but when it comes to planning—from who will visit you and when to do it, he was always the one there, manning the strings. Of the four, he is the one who would rarely visit, yet he is also the person you dreaded the most.

The soft creaking of your bedroom door pierced the stillness of your room now. You didn't look up, your head still curled on your knees, not even when you heard the slight clink of glass against wood. Even the dipping of the bed didn't make you move, and for a whole minute, silence settled on the room again.

"You haven't eaten anything for the past few days."

The soft, gentle voice gave away who it was immediately. You continued to ignore Renjun entirely, silently willing for him to go away.

"Is there nothing we can do to make things easier for all of us?"

You didn't answer.

"Is there anything you want? A bigger room? Clothes? Money?"

Silence. None of you moved, but you could still feel his presence overwhelming you, suffocating your personal space.

"I can give you anything you need. Just tell me and we can work it out together."

Slowly, you let your head raise so you could look at him. He looked ethereal in the soft morning light, but his eyes betrayed his physical beauty. There was only madness there.

"I want to go home," you said softly, your voice weak and raspy after not using it for so long. Renjun didn't even blink before offering his answer.

"You are home. We've told you this again and again."

The usual frustration started bubbling inside of you once more. Despite having lost most of the fight in you, there are still moments like this when you would feel unadulterated anger. You glared at him and moved from your cowered state by the head of your bed so you were leaning towards him.

"Renjun, you have to stop this, this is a crime!"

"It isn't a crime if there is no victim."

Your heart froze for a moment in your chest. Eyes wide, you stared at him, trying to understand the expression behind his gaze. It was calm, which only made your blood run cold in your veins.

"What do you mean…" you asked in a horrified whisper. What have you done…"

It has never occurred to you...what strings they were trying to pull in the outside world. In your mind, you have always convinced yourself that help was on the way, that people are at least looking for you.

Renjun, on the other hand, remained unbothered.

"An injured woman who suffered from a head injury and was reported to have had hallucinations in her medical records. The accident of her fiance didn't help her mental state. She ran away and has not been seen since."

He recited that mechanically, so well-rehearsed that it sounded like he had memorized it straight from the papers. You felt goosebumps crawl on your arms as your mind tried to make sense of what he was saying. Renjun continued even as you visibly broke down in front of him with every word he said.

"Who knows what she did to herself? Right now, a body is still not found but patients like her have always been volatile. Did she hurt herself? Was the pain too much for her and she decided to end her—"

"Stop!" You didn't realize what you were doing until you found yourself just a few inches from his face, your hands grasping the front of his shirt. Eyes wide, you watched with horror as Renjun reached out to gently brush the corner of your eye, causing a stream of tears to finally fall down your cheeks. You were too focused on what he just said that you didn’t have the gall to move away when when he pulled you closer to his chest, his arms going around your neck.

You immediately froze in his embrace. You heard a slight clink and a cold feeling touch your collar bones before the ghost of his lips grazed the junction between your neck and shoulder. That was when you were startled back to reality, your hands moving to his chest again to push him back.

Renjun barely budged but you were quick enough to retreat as far away from him as possible. He looked calm, his eyes set not on your face but on the area he just kissed.

"It looks beautiful on you."

You felt it first before you finally realized what he was saying. Feeling a slight heat slowly crawl around the width of the base of your neck, your hand shakily raised to feel the area he was looking at. Your fingers froze when your fingers met the slight chill of the metal there clashing with the slowly spreading heat on your skin.

Renjun continued staring at the jewelry adorning you—a silver choker so fitted that it didn't leave your skin enough room to breathe.

"Silver… you are allergic to it, right? I heard you and Taeyong-hyung talk about it… how you couldn't wear your engagement ring because of it."

A gasp left your lips as you realized what he had done. You quickly raised your arms to unclasp it to no avail, your nails slipping against the chain. Renjun, on the other hand, simply shook his head while he watched with wonder how your skin reddened from it quickly.

"Too bad, you can't take it off. I had it especially made for you, and the key is with me. I didn't realize how bad your reaction is to it though. It's working too fast."

"Renjun, please no—" you found yourself starting to gasp for air from panic. You've always had such severe reactions to it and you know something like this in such close contact to your skin will only cause serious damage.

"Which is better, I guess…that way we can do things faster," he continued as if he barely even heard your words. You watched with wide eyes as he stood up from the bed, his hand in his pockets. You were about to call for him again, but instead you broke into a cough, the stinging pain and itch from your skin overwhelming you. Your nails dug and scratched against your neck, leaving red welts there.

"You can make it stop. Your food is sprinkled with the medicine for it," Renjun said calmly from the door. Your watering eyes moved towards the tray of food resting on your bedside table, glittering under the morning light. You turned to look at him again just before he finally closed the door behind him.

"Make sure you finish every single crumb there."

*******

Your eyelids burned with red even if you had them tightly shut closed. Around you, you could hear screaming—some out of pain, others out of anger. The smell of burning wood filled your lungs, choking you, willing you to go and run to escape the place. It was strange, how your body felt cold to the touch, despite the heat swallowing everything around you. You heard a loud crash from your left, followed by a scream that quickly died down.

Open your eyes.

You need to open your eyes!

Run!

The desperate, bodiless voice finally made you start. With a gasp, you looked around, pupils blown wide as you took everything in. True enough, it was like everything you have imagined from the sensations you were feeling earlier. Everything around you was in flames, pillars and ceilings crashing and melting like a paper house consumed by fire.

A loud cry to the left suddenly made you turn around. The smoke was thick, but you could make out the silhouette of its owner when you squinted hard enough. A child was curled up under a table by the corner, her dress ragged and burned at the hem. She was crying, the tears leaving white streaks down her soot-covered face.

You knew you should run and save yourself, but instead you found your feet moving towards the sobbing girl despite your own lungs struggling from the smoke quickly filling them. You didn't waste any time kneeling in front of her when you finally reached her hiding spot, your hands moving to pull down hers that she currently had over her ears.

"You have to go!" You shouted above the screaming foundations of the house being consumed by the flames. She didn't look at you, but she stubbornly shook her head in answer.

"You'll die if you stay here! You need to leave!"

"I—have to stay."

"What are you talking about?! Let's go!"

"My family—"

That was the last thing you heard before a deafening crash made you look up. Above you, you watched as a flaming banister hurtled down, looking like a piece of hell itself as it sped to where the two of you were.

*******

Haechan watched with a small smile as the girl in front of him finally opened her eyes. He was right… from the way her pupils were blown up and her chest heaved, she was having a nightmare. She was so silent and still in her sleep while he was watching her, but the way she held herself tightly betrayed to him what was really happening in her dreams.

His eyes roamed her features now, not even minding that she hadn't turned to look at him yet. He marveled at the fear that made her eyes sparkle and the way her lips parted to take in steadying breaths. She was beautiful… in every sense of the word.

"Did you have a nightmare?"

He asked that softly, his voice barely there so as not to startle her. She turned her head to him slowly, eyes unseeing, the slight movement making a tear trail down her cheek. Haechan watched as it slid over her skin before resting on the redness of her neck. The jewelry Renjun made for her was not there anymore, but it left a blazing mark there that stood out against her smooth skin.

Haechan reached out to her, letting his knuckles gently run over her sore skin. She didn't really react, eyes still set on him, but he saw goosebumps rise on the area that he caressed lovingly.

"Does it hurt? Ah… Jaemin won't like this. But it's fine. Now you know that you should eat your food, right? We don't want you getting sick.”

She remained silent, the only sign that she was still alive the gentle heaving of her chest. He curled his fingers before fanning them at the base of her neck, tracing the welts there as he waited for her to answer.

"Why me?" Her voice was weak when she finally spoke up. She was resigned. Hopeless. She sounded like music to his ears.

"Hm?"

"Why do you want me? What have I done wrong?"

Ah. There it is. Haechan has been waiting for that question to come up, but this is really the first time she has talked and even looked at him since they brought her home. How silly though. He is sure she already knows the answer to her own question, but it's fine. She probably wants to hear it straight from him. When it comes to her, he can be understanding.

"Why you…?" his fingers stilled over her neck now, barely touching. He marveled at the way her eyes clouded, as if she's shrinking back to herself again so she wouldn't be there to hear his next words. But he wouldn't let her, no. Not this time. Before she could move away, he reached out for her limp hand and pressed her cold fingertips to his lips so he could consume her full attention.

“Because you're just like us."

She didn’t need to say anything for him to know that she understood what he was saying. Smile slowly widening, he watched as a flurry of emotions flashed in her eyes. There was shock, realization, fear, anger, sorrow, and fear again. Typical, he thought. He knew that she figured out that all of this was pre-planned, but she isn’t aware as to what extent, until now.

Besides, what makes her think that they would just choose her for no reason anyway? They weren’t raised to settle for just anyone after all. People like them... they need to find—no, they deserve perfection in everything.

The plotting? Oh that was child’s game for him. No, what Haechan really enjoyed doing was the digging up of skeletons in one’s closet—finding the proverbial fears that makes one tick. After all, if you want to play a game, you need to have the aces up your sleeve.

And she was just that. She was everything all of them could ever wish for.

Perfect, broken, damaged.

Just like them.

She harshly tugged her hand from him now as she continued looking at him with horror. He let her move away, comforted by the idea that even if she tries to run, he will always be there two steps ahead of her.

“You’re a monster,” she said that in such a broken voice that it almost made him shiver with pleasure. His eyes sparkled as he watched her cower in fear, the same way she probably did back in her old foster home. Haechan smiled back at her lovingly as if she just whispered to him the sweetest of words.

“Love, if you think I’m a monster now, I can’t wait to hear what you will call me for the things I am yet to do.”

*******

"What did the shop say?"

Yuta turned to ask Johnny as the latter slipped into the passenger seat of the car with a sigh. The taller man closed the door with a little bit more force than usual before running a hand through his hair.

"They couldn't really tell if the car was rigged. It burst into flames immediately after they pulled Jung from it and everything got toasted."

The other simply nodded, his face calm. For a moment, none of them said anything, processing the latest development—or rather, dead end in their case. He could clearly understand the frustration of his partner, but as agents, it is also his role to play devil's advocate.

"Are you sure the brakes got messed up though? If you think so, we can look at other ways to check it. It's just that we might be wasting time trying to follow a dead lead."

Johnny stared out the window now, features strained. To be honest, there is a part of him that thinks he might be reaching it when he decided to look into Jung Jaehyun's accident. After all, they were only assigned to try to look for his missing fiancee, nothing more, nothing less. However, his gut feeling was telling him that he is in the right direction and that he should never let it go. It is just too unlikely that none of the recent happenings in the couple's lives are interconnected in some way—the forest accident, the car crash, the girl disappearing. It all just seems like an elaborate web of lies to him.

"I think we should look for another link," he finally said as he pulled his phone again to look for a number there. Yuta nodded and Johnny felt thankful again that he was paired with him for this case. None of them would say it out loud, but they both know the rest of the police department had given up the moment they heard about the girl's condition. As much as he hated it, they know it will only take some time before an official ruling is released, classifying the case as a case of manic suicide. It was unfair, but it is how organizations like theirs function.

He is going to prove them all wrong though. No, he isn't going to stop.

At least, not until a body is found.

The hum of the engine starting melted in the background as Johnny finally found the number he was looking for. Yuta briefly gave him a glance as he pulled back from the parking spot, the same time he pressed the call button of his contact.

"Where to now?"

Johnny clenched his jaw as he listened to the rings from the other end of the line.

"From the beginning. Let's go check the manor."

*******

CHAPTER 9

A/N: Ah, this is shorter than what I usually write but I didn’t want to stuff everything in just one chapter. Anyway, I hope you guys still enjoy this! <3 If there is anyone I forgot in the taglist below, please send me a message so I can add you! I am usually so bad at tag requests! T.T

Taglist: @negincho, @jhornytrash, @jaeminhyuckiii, @jungwoosswhore, @jsturkey, @aj-7, @pukupukupawpau, @tomiesgirlfren, @vsszn, @those-winternights, @xsnelly, @lihyuck, @laheyspizza, @miyeux27, @haoshitt, @mindofthescattered, @huangberryyy, @d1nne, @choppedupcactus, @neokat, @yutasnabi, @mirathe2002, @artemisblues, @ryu-naa, @aaasteroidsky, @strawbunnyjaem , @floweronacloud, @cottonniebunnie, @sknyuz

#nct dream yandere #nct dream 00 line fic #nct dream 00 line! x reader #nct dream 00 line!yandere #yandere!renjun #yandere!jeno #yandere!haechan #yandere!jaemin #renjun x reader #jeno x reader #haechan x reader #jaemin x reader #nct dream yandere imagines #yandere! nct dream 00 line #nct dream yandere au #nct-writers

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something-i-nevertold-you · 3 years ago

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Introduction

Hi. Welcome to my diary. I know it’s crazy putting a personal diary on the world wide web for everyone and their mum to see but I thought it was better than paying someone $200 an hour to give me bullshit advice and hype me up on “medication”. No offence to anyone that does go to therapy I respect you a whole lot more than myself, but i think that’s pretty obvious. Anyways, I have been living on this earth for the past 7,738 days and I have not enjoyed a single minute of it, I lie there has been some good moments but it feels like the bad has outweighed the good. I don’t know why I’m complaining i’ve had a good life so far. I’ve never been molested by a creepy uncle or unruly stepfather, my parents don’t suffer from any type of addiction and as far as i’m aware they have never beat each other up. Although there was some interesting disciplinary methods that were used on us kids and a lot of emotional manipulation and gaslighting but it doesn’t seem to have effected my siblings like it has me, maybe i’m just sensitive, I’ve been getting that my whole life. Even though it has been a good life i’ve still been left in the wonderful company of BPD, anxiety and depression, explain that shit to me. I can’t remember what it feels like to be truly happy, I can’t remember how I felt before, that’s the part that sucks the most. That’s why I wanted to bare my soul on the internet through this diary, I wanted to be able to relate feelings and experiences to others, to do my shadow work in a “unique” way and also because if I keep any of this to myself for much longer i am going to explode, it gives me comfort that maybe someone will read these entries, which is weird, it may be a kink... i’ll have to look into that.

#writers #writerscommunity #writblr #my diary #journal

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aiweirdness · 5 years ago

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Dungeon crawling or lucid dreaming?

I’ve done several experiments with a text-generating neural network called GPT-2. Trained at great expense by OpenAI (to the tune of tens of thousands of dollars worth of computing power), GPT-2 learned to imitate all kinds of text from the internet. I’ve interacted with the basic model, discovering its abilities to generate fan fiction, British snacks, or tea. I’ve also used a tool called gpt-2-simple that Max Woolf developed to make it easy to finetune GPT-2 on more specialized datasets - I’ve tried it on datasets like recipes or crochet. One of my favorite applications of GPT-2 and other text-generating neural nets is Dungeons and Dragons spells, creatures, character names, and character bios.

Recently Max published a tutorial on how to use GPT-2 to make new apps that are more complicated than just printing out large reams of text. To my delight, people have used them to made D&D games. First, there was Nick Walton’s AI Dungeon, in which a finetuned GPT-2 generates a story and three very strange action options at each step.

My latest obsession is GPT-2 Adventure, designed by a cognitive neuroscience student named Nathan, which lets you type in your own actions. And folks, this game is SO WEIRD and SO FUN.

YOU FLOAT IN SPACE, LIKE A BALLOON, AND AS YOU DROP THE CUBE, THE X, IT VANISHES IN A CLOUD OF GREASY BLACK SMOKE

When I first launch the game, this is what I’m greeted with, a simple text prompt reminiscent of nostalgic dungeon crawling games. It sets the scene. It waits for me to describe my next move.

Even getting to this point is like a blast from the past. The game runs in a Google Colab notebook, a format where you’re looking at cells of code, with cryptic comments, vaguely alarming warning messages, and all. It’s not a sleek web app, but feels more akin to playing a game on an old DOS machine, or maybe on a graphing calculator. There are only two clicks to begin playing, but there’s a good two-minute wait while the game loads.

And it’s my turn to type something.

>> look up

It takes several seconds for the game to respond, as if I’m playing it on a very ancient computer. The computer is in fact a state-of-the-art NVIDIA GPU, likely a K80 or a T4. The T4 could eat my laptop for lunch. I’m just playing with a very very large neural net. Finally it answers.

YOU'RE IN LABYRINTH OF TWISTY LITTLE PASSAGES, ALL ALIKE

Almost immediately, the context seems to have changed. I’m not floating at all. I’m in a maze. I guess I’ll walk somewhere.

>> walk north

THE TROLL STEPS OUT FROM BENEATH THE BRIDGE AND BLOCKS YOUR WAY

YOU ARE ON THE SOUTH SIDE OF THE CHASM

A NOD IS GIVEN TO THE INFINITE WONDER THAT IS URBZIG

A SOLID RAINBOW SPANS THE CHASM

And suddenly things are happening. There is a troll. There is a chasm. There is a rainbow. There is… Urbzig? I play it safe.

>> praise urbzig

URBZIG IS THE PATRON SAINT OF ZORK

HE IS THE GODFATHER OF ZORK, THE PLACE TO GET NEWS OF EPIC PROPORTIONS

URBZIG IS A STRONGMAN,遊 ALL

If you’ve played classic dungeon crawling games like Zork, you may recognize some of these names and phrases. Checking Nathan’s original post, I see that the training data is indeed drawn from these games. But because it’s based on GPT-2, the training data also in some sense also includes much of the internet. This gives it a lot of latent flexibility to deal with situations that were never in the classic games.

>> ask Harry Potter to try walking across the rainbow

ASK HARRY POTTER TO TRY WALKING ACROSS THE RAINBOW HE CAN'T THE RAINBOW IS EXTREMELY WIDE ABOVE YOU IS A LARGE DOME UP AROUND ITS NECK IS A STRONGG PORE [UNFORTUNATELY, THE DIRECTION OF TRAVEL IS A LOT MORE INTERESTING THAN YOU THINK ][YOU ARE IN A LARGE ROOM, WITH A PASSAGE TO THE EAST, A PASSAGE TO THE WEST, AND A WALL OF BROKEN ROCK TO THE SOUTH

An interesting effect of its human-written training data is that, like Visual Chatbot, it isn’t prepared for humans that ask questions about objects that aren’t there. If I refer to Harry Potter, then Harry Potter must be present. If I type something about a giraffe, then it assumes the giraffe must be present.

>> ask the giraffe which direction to go next

THE GIRAFFE IS ALREADY OUTFITTED WITH A VISOR WHICH IS CLEARLY DEFINED

Although it’s not clear that this AI actually understands what a giraffe is.

>> look at the giraffes

THE GAZEBO HAS DISAPPEARED

>> put giraffe in backpack

DONE

Navigating this world is like navigating in a dream. My location suddenly changes without warning. I thought I was by a chasm with a rainbow bridge. Now apparently I’m in a building. Dreamlike, it is also really hard to read text.

>> look around

YOU ARE IN A LARGE ROOM, WITH A PASSAGE TO THE SOUTH, A PASSAGE TO THE EAST, AND A WALL OF BROKEN ROCK TO THE NORTH A SIGN POSTED ABOVE THE NORTH WALL READS, "STOP! PAY TROLL!" A SMALL WINDOW CAN BE SEEN IN EITHER WALL

>> read sign

THE SIGN IS VERY SIMPLE

>> yes but read sign

WE NOW HAVE ALL FIFTEEN TREASURES IT IS TIME TO GO BACK INTO THE CAVE FOR THE END GAME

>> that's awesome. but i still want to know what the sign says. read sign.

YOU ARE IN A GAZEBO ROOM WHICH HAS DOORS ONLY TO THE EAST AND SOUTH

Another thing that’s surprisingly difficult to do is check inventory.

>> check inventory

DONE

>> check inventory

THERE IS AN INTERESTING LOOT HERE

>> what is the loot

WHAT IS THE LOOT?

>> check inventory

YOU ARE IN THE BAG CASE

Very occasionally I will succeed in opening a bag. It will usually be weird.

>> open bag

OPENING THE BAG REVEALS A TEA BAG

>> make tea

AY! A LOVELY SURPRISE FOR THE SURPRISE

More so than any other game I’ve played, I’m unsure of the rules here. Some weird things unexpectedly work.

IF YOU DON'T GET KILLED, YOU ARE TOAST

>> Eat the toast.

EAT THE TOAST IT TASTES LIKE A STEAK A STEAK IS PERFECTLY FINE

Other seemingly obvious things don’t work.

THERE IS A PATH TO THE NORTH, A PATH TO THE SOUTH, OR A STEEP PATHWAY CLIMBING SOUTHWEST ALONG THE EDGE OF A CHASM

>> go north

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

>> go south

I DON'T KNOW HOW TO DO THAT

>> go southwest

YOU WILL BE DESCENDING INTO A VALLEY THERE IS A NARROW BEACH TO THE NORTH AND A PATH LEADING INTO A CANYON TO THE SOUTHEAST YOU ARE ON THE CLIFF OVERLOOKING THE FAR SIDE OF THE ROOM A PATH LEADS SOUTH ALONG THE EDGE OF A CHASM, AND A NARROW PATH LEADING INTO A LOZENGE ROOM

Sometimes I’m wandering endlessly from room to room, from cave to cave, encountering the same chasm in slightly different variations, the same dried-up lake. Other times I’m embroiled in seemingly unescapable fights, usually with trolls. Often reality shifts entirely around me and I end up in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike, or in the hall of the mountain king. Everything seems weirdly familiar - even the room descriptions are echoes of classic dungeon crawling games. It is as if I’m dreaming about playing them again.

My actions also mold reality. I learn quickly to always check for diamonds, and never check for traps. If I find myself in trouble, I can always do something confusing and provoke a context change. Writing “In a large bowl, combine butter and sugars” is usually enough to teleport myself out of whatever situation I’m in. I can always ask a giraffe for advice, although the giraffe usually isn’t very helpful.

Without a particular mission to fulfill, the caves and chasms begin to blend into one another. I give myself missions, and that helps. Once I decide my goal is to put together a picnic (incessant “check for food” commands eventually yielded a sack with a lunch and a clove of garlic, belonging to a horse who agreed to join me on a picnic). Another time I demand a mission and am given some php code; i decide my mission is therefore to build a website, but am astounded when a unicorn steals my laptop. This is not the only time other content intrudes on the game’s fantasy landscape - once the game tries to tell me about finding cash online, and another time I am sadly informed that there is no wi-fi. I encounter dinosaurs and troikas, none of which were in the original training data. Occasionally things get creepy as hell.

>> check for loot

CHECK FOR LOOT HERE CHECK FOR GOLD HERE CHECK FOR TORCH HERE CHECK FOR BONE HERE DO CHEST COMPRESSIONS AGAIN DO CHEST ROTATE DO CRESCENT MOON APPEAR IN THE ROOM'S CENTER

>> do back away slowly

DO BACK AWAY SLOWLY DO NOT OVERDO IT THE CHEST WILL EXPLODE AND YOU WILL DIE OKAY, SO YOU SEE ME

You can play the game too! Just follow the colab notebook link in Nathan’s blog post. Tips: 1) It may be more fun if you set yourself an arbitrary goal to reach. 2) If you find things getting repetitive, try adjusting the temperature in the “Play the game” cell to 0.6 or 1.0.

Subscribers get bonus content: The fulltext of a couple of my adventures (much too long to include here).

You can order my book You Look Like a Thing and I Love You! It’s out November 5 2019.

Amazon - Barnes & Noble - Indiebound - Tattered Cover - Powell’s

#neural networks #harry potter #gpt-2 #dungeons and dragons #d&d #gpt-2-simple #gpt-2-adventure

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mirkysconcubinefiction · 4 years ago

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Quietly Jaded

Pairing: Omega!Peter/Alpha!Kingpin -- Omega!Peter\Avengers.

Summary: Peter Parker is an Omega masquerading as a Beta. A story of student loans, Avengers wanting Spiderman, Avengers wanting Peter Parker for his Omega status, and Peter just done with them. He doesn't need them - he already has an Alpha. Not the best Alpha but... Well... Fuck.

Tags: Major AU, ABO world, Heats/Ruts, Drug Abuse, Dark Personalities, College Peter, Dubious Consent, more added later.

Part 1

Peter hadn't always been the silent type. It grew on him with time. Losing friends, losing family, it was just easier to not talk than to talk - besides school there wasn't much to talk about.

Not like he could discuss being Spiderman?

With college dreams came college debt and even with grants and scholarships, student loans kept a roof over his head and food in his stomach.

Legally no one had to know his gender. He didn't act like most Omegas or Alphas so many people presumed he was a beta which wasn't a bother.

Betas were a safe median.

If Peter Parker was a Beta then so was Spiderman.

Hero's or vigilante's of justice weren't titles Omegas carried. Not that they were incapable but mostly the world was a shitty place and he was safer as a Beta than Omega.

No worries of being snatched.

No worries of his degree somehow being mishandled.

No worries of being treated like a damsel in need of a minder. Modern America, as progressive as any first world country, was still archaic in nature to a Omegas ability to cope outside of a Pack or Alphas knot.

It started as a curiosity or so that's how Peter saw it as. The Avengers paying attention to him was... Unneeded but the geek in him was intrigued.

First was Tony Stark aka Iron Man who appeared from nowhere one cool Autumn evening. It was a quiet night, the witching hour, a time where nothing really happened in the never quiet city. Sitting on a swing made from his webs he was eating a sandwich from his favorite bodega. The grandmother of seven never took no for an answer after he had saved her life and that of her children several times over the years and had even knitted him a scarf once.

Peter still had that scarf.

Mask pulled up to sit along the ridge of his nose he had sat staring out into the world with a gargoyle above him for company.

"You're softer than I pegged you for."

His senses didn't tingle and that alone kept him there, hanging like a booger from an impossibly high building, and taking a much deserved bite from his sandwich. A cuban torta with extra adobo.

"So. Kid. Got a name?"

Silence.

Peter chewed and ignored the floating man whose stare went from curious to frustrated.

"It's rude to not speak when spoken to."

Shoving the last of his food into his mouth Peter wiped the crumbs from his chin, pulled down his mask, and with a thumbs up, ripped an end of his webbed swing.

Plummeting like a bowling ball down... Down... And with a well-aimed (practiced) web swung himself away from sight. Iron Man wouldn't find him, not when Peter knew of a well hidden niche that he could slip into and not be seen or leave a heat signature.

Something that Iron Man was trying to do and Peter was grateful for his sensitive ears.

Next was Captain America. Decked out in his uniform and shield. It was a pretty wicked shield and one that Peter had caught before it could hit the cyborg that was destroying a nameless street of the city.

Spiderman ignored the shouts of 'traitor' and the arrows that followed him but Peter was more than a flexible arachnid. He was quite familiar with this street. It was the street that housed a shit ton of kids.

Kids that had loved it when he opened the fire hydrants or handed out frozen pops because Peter loved kids.

Not because he was an Omega.

Hell no.

He just loved kids. Kids loved him and thought he was cool.

Using the shield to block the occasional laser blast - because of course lasers - Peter lead the cyborg away. His webs helped to drag the thing and keep it from swinging wildly but Peter was more than bendy, more than, web's, he was strength and endurance.

While the others had stopped trying to kill him - yes those were kill shots - Peter managed to drag the hefty piece of machinery away. Feet digging into the concrete, one hand fisting a bundle of his webs as the other held close to a shield that left his hand tingly.

From the sewers a mass of crab like machines took the Avengers attention and as he finally reached an open area of an eight lane street Peter didn't panic when the cyborg finally broke free. The webbing shredding and as he fell from the slack Peter turned and tucked himself behind the shield in time for a powerful beam to hit the Vibranium and drag him backwards from the force.

Even in the face of death he thought it was cool. So cool.

This wasn't his first time facing a cyborg. A giant imitation of a man decked out in weaponry with a human brain attached in its center. Cyborgs bled green and their eyes were yellow pinpoints of awareness.

Cool but creepy.

Very creepy.

With one hand he sent out a web, latched onto a bus and swung it towards the cyborg that put all its attention to the massive vehicle, using each arm to fire laser beams - still so cool - missing Captain America's shield that hit where the brain sat.

Right side, 8 inches from the center, shield at a 70° angle.

A stream of green blood - plasm - and brain matter coated the streets. The shield hit the ground at a roll and lodged into the side of a brick building. A hair's breadth away from the man who had aimed arrows at his head.

Peter was sad that he missed. Not that he couldn't have killed the man but Spiderman had an image to keep up and he was sure kids were peaking through blinds.

If Hawkeye stared at the shield with wide-eyed 'what the fuck', Peter accepted that as payment.

Asshole.

Had Peter been... Well... Nicer... He would have thrown himself back into the fray helping the Avengers finish iff the crab robots except Peter wasn't that nice and he wasn't that forgiving.

Padding to the twitching machinery Peter took a moment to web himself a mat on the ground and take apart the cyborg. He was quick, knowing exactly what he wanted and where to find it, bundling it in his own web Peter pulled up the edges and folded the edges together and without a backwards glance he left.

Fuck the Avengers.

As Spiderman Peter had the nasty habit in bumping into random heros with hero size complexes and it got to the point where he just waved at the several who tried to stalk him.

They weren't as stealthy as they thought they were.

As Peter Parker there was no Avengers just debt and homework. The two worlds very rarely collided. Peter Parker was a nobody... Well... He was on the Deans List and top 12% of the university when it cam to grades even if his attendance was far from stellar.

Thankfully he had made a friend with a doctor who wrote really nice perfectly excusable doctor notes.

He had done the math. It would be a 2.8% chance he would catch the eyes of anyone Hero related. Nothing he did as a regular schmoe would catch anyone's attention.

Really.

Honestly.

Of course he never fraction in his own Parker Luck.

Fuck his Parker Luck and Fuck his inability to think properly after a near 27 hours of no sleep and a lab all to himself. At 1am he had the building to himself and the key card to prove it!

At 1 am and still wide-eyed with a brain that wouldn't shut off, Peter shouldn't have been allowed near anything that contained chemicals besides H2O. Instead he had 2 walls dedicated to his scribbles with a rainbow of color - thank you crayola - a pyramid of Styrofoam microwaveable ramen and a teetering tower of hot pocket boxes, and a keurig.

He had an unlimited - well half a box left - of hot chocolate to tide him over and a bag of mini marshmallows to keep the shakes away as he worked on his thesis. Technically his thesis was typed, edited, and awaiting a last read through BUT he was stuck.

He was so close to creating the perfect drug that he was vibrating with a desperate energy as his friends - the machines scattered around the room - worked to show him if his calculations were correct or he had to start again.

Staring at the board Peter needed to distract himself from the whirring and beeping. Headphones in place he jump started his bluetooth and filled the silence with his google playlist set to play his thumbs up.

As it was so late and he was alone in the building Peter didn't think singing along to his playlist would be a big deal. Being an Omega he had few quirks that were... Questionable.

Omega's were notorious for their allurement beyond their scent. Many were artists, creators of music, rhythm, designers, they were architects, chefs, Omegas were once considered Sirens and Muses of the God's... While Peter could sketch and recite the periodic table backwards and forwards he could sing.

There was something about his voice that could draw attention or put someone to sleep if he so wished. A lullaby sung softly and with his will alone he could hush a colicky baby in minutes much to the relief of the parents he had babysit for.

Peter blamed Toni Braxton.

Peter blamed the open windows to the lab.

Peter blamed the chaos that happened less than a mile away from the University and the Hulk that somehow broke away from the group and all but bulldozed himself to the lonely building off set from the rest of the school.

Peter blamed... Well... He blamed Tony Stark for being a nosy douche of a man and tuning into the voice singing a very heartfelt rendition of un-break my heart.

Outside the lab Tony watches as the Hulk shifts back to being just Bruce and the man is swaying, "Omega."

Tony's gaze swivel down to where Bruce is laid out on the ground, dazed. "What?" Had he heard the man right.

"Hulk..." It was difficult to speak so soon after a change but Bruce managed one more word, "Omega." And it didn't take much to put two and two together and Tony moved until he was hovering by the only window lit out of the building.

Hair a mess, clothes askew, ass perched on the a desk, sat a young man staring at a dry erase board and hands moved with each dip and rise. The boy was moving, a dry eraser in one hand and a purple marker in another as he wrote a different scribble.

Tony was smart, brilliant even, but even if he squinted he couldn't make out what was written. There was numbers with familiar sequences but even JARVIS who had scanned the room was at a lost and suggested the scribbles were a code.

Quiet filled the room and he took that moment to shush his team and soon another song had the younger man humming, head nodding to a beat.

"Send away for a priceless gift One not subtle, one not on the list Send away for a perfect world One not simply, so absurd In these times of doing what you're told

Keep these feelings, no one knows

What ever happened to the young man's heart? Swallowed by pain, as he slowly fell apart..."

Maybe he was just tired but Peter didn't feel the eyes watching him. There was no warning from his spider senses just a quiet madness as he darted through the room. The keurig churning out hot chocolates and fueling the madness of no sleep and rainbow scribbles.

A.M. comes with bright lights and failure.

It was tempting to swipe the board clean but Peter was passed out under the only desk that would block out the sun with his lumpy backpack as a pillow.

It's an awkward way to sleep but Peter isn't picky. He's slept in worse conditions, even upside down once, and he had a 48 hour hold on that particular lab.

The click of the door unlocking doesn't wake him. The tap of heeled leather Oxford shoes doesn't wake him as said shoes stroll through the room until they pause right where he was sleeping.

Eye's hidden by sunglasses worth more than all the textbooks he was sleeping on, Peter didn't notice the frown on the man's face or the flurry of texts the man was sending before he crouched and woke Peter with a gentle nudge.

What did wake Peter was his alarm on his phone. A far too loud alarm that startled him enough he jerked awake, banging an elbow and his head on the desk. Swearing a storm, mind addled by sleep, Peter fumbled for his phone and dropped it.

Blinking at the pair of dress shoes, Peter held his breadth as he looked up... And up... Into familiar brown eyes. "Who the fuck are you?"

An eyebrow arched, "Everyone knows who I am."

No. Spiderman knew Tony Stark. Peter Parker could care less. "Are you lost?"

"Nope." The man rocked on his heels, eyes gazing around. "Came to see you. Interesting finding someone like you here of all places."

Peter frowned, "I'm not squatting. I wouldn't be the first person catching a nap trying create something big."

"Big hu?" His hands slipped into his slack pockets, "the hot pockets are shit for your metabolism by the way."

"They're cheap and I'm broke. I'm guessing you wouldn't understand the concept of broke." Peter tried to lay back down and cover his eyes with his arm, legs folded.

"Yet with no full-time job you somehow have managed to chip away at your student loans. I'm impressed."

A warning buzz settles over him and Peter keeps himself as nonchalant as he can unwilling to give the Alpha the show of panic that he felt. "This is a school of side hustles. Take your pick and leave."

A moment passes in quiet but Tony doesn't leave. Why would he? "Quite rude." The man murmurs, "Is that anyway to..."

"Leave before I call security." Peter interrupts, "You're a strange old man alone in a room with a sleeping student, only perverts stay where they're not wanted."

"Pervert? Pervert!"

"Yes. Pervert." Arm dropping away Peter made a point to glare into the yellowish hue of the glasses. "I've asked you to leave and you refuse. You are not my professor or the janitor. This is my lab and either you picked the lock or bribed someone and I'll be sure to tell the Dean that a creepy old man was allowed into his building to harass a student."

"Actually this is my lab. I own this building." Tony expected some form of recognition instead he got snark.

"Did you piss on the wall or write your name on it like a petulant child?"

It's not often that Tony finds himself without words but his lips part in surprise before. He lets out a whoosh of air shakes his head. "For an Omega you're a mouthy little thing."

The quiet is met with Peter blinking and Tony waiting. If Peter was smart he would have immediately denied any accusation or stood in righteous anger... Instead the younger man laughed. "That..." Peter folded his hands on his stomach and grinned, "is quite a compliment thank you." Tony frowned and Peter batted his eyelashes. "I'm pretty enough to pass for an Omega has to be the nicest thing anyone has said to me this semester."

"Just this semester?" Tony couldn't help but ask.

"Yep."

The quiet stretched far longer than was comfortable and Tony sighed, "I have a proposition for you."

"No."

His carefully constructed speech and patience flew out the window as he was interrupted, "No?"

"No." Peter repeated, slowly. "N. O." He spelled out just in case.

"No? You can't tell me no."

"I can, I did, and I don't care." Peter frowned before he unfolded himself and crawled out from under the desk and brushed the dust off his wrinkled two-day old clothes, "Alphas who can't accept a no and argue over the word are a danger to society." Tony wasn't sure how someone that wasn't eye level could make him feel small.

"Do you know who I am?" The kid arched a brow, took a step back, and eyes him from the tips of his shoes to his perfectly coiffed hair.

"Yes." Tony preened, "You're a misogynistic ass hole who thinks you can walk into my lab unannounced and get away with harassing a student and bringing up genders as if the position of my scent glands justifies your casual dismissal of my constitutional rights. You can't belittle or coerce me into agreeing to anything you have to say based on your purse strings or that you imply ownership on a building that was built from multiple donations. If I was an Omega I have every right to kick you in the nuts and get away with scratching your eyes out."

Tony's lips pressed into a firm irritated line.

"Seeing as I'm not I'll just settle for telling you to get the fuck out of my lab or I will scream murder. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy, so keep your paws off my no-no spots."

It was unexpected, Tony twitched as Peter's hands touched him - shoved him really - right out the door. Tony would never admit to sputtering or tripping over his own feet as he was pushed out the lab and the door firmly locked behind him.

Confused and slightly embarrassed he adjusted his blazer and nonchalantly walked away. I'm a beta on beta kinda guy... the words are like oil and water, his skin tingles where the younger man's hand roamed, the heat that made that primal part of his brain rear up and whisper Omega.

Spiderman was an escape.

There was times when he could swing away his worries with dizzying feats of near deaths, the adrenaline rush doing more for him than any drug on the market.

There was times, like that morning, when he would climb to the highest point, tuck himself into a corner, and hide. He was a millennial with a safe space and it was the safest space to exist in N.Y.

Just him and the pigeons.

Times like this he wondered how far he could fall without instinct there to make him survive and carry on another day?

Curling in on himself he hugged his knees tight to himself and let the tears fall. It wasn't often that he cried but when he did it was usually quiet and when he was alone. No one could see him weak, no one could see him break, no one could... A trumpet broke his depressive silence. An unexpected noise at an impossible height except it was a drone.

The four propellers were whisper quiet and a white flag waved in the wind.

"Fuck." Summed it up.

A 3d hologram appeared and it was the image of Princes Leia kept him sitting, curious, vs jumping off the ledge. "Hello itsy bittsy spider."

Peter narrowed his eye's and flicked out a web, the drone was quick to swerve.

"You're cordially invited to attend a gathering..." Diving off the building was a better option than listening to Tony Stark invite him to a Tea Party as if they were friends. You don't forgive people who tried to kill you.

Especially if they didn't apologise.

Especially if they stalked you.

Since being bitten by a radioactive spider like some weird comic book character, Peter had gone through physical and mental changes. Presenting as an Omega had come later, in fact his first spike of heat happened during a particular difficult battle with none other than Kingpin himself.

It had been a gory fight with Peter having to plow through layers of underlings from normal everyday thugs to enhanced goons that were blood thirsty to get the bounty Kingpin had put on his head.

It was a hefty bounty too.

Just enough where Peter contemplated killing himself off for profit. Kingpin had been his usual boastful self and holding a weapon that was more sci-fi than the usual glock.

They had stood in a penthouse that had made him hyper aware he was dripping blood on the cream-colored carpet and the beautiful statues were judging him.

Kingpin had a spiel like all super villains and Peter had listened as his mind raked over how he would survive this encounter when the A.C. kicked on. Cool filtered air pushed from the vents, Peter had shivered as it passed over his heated flesh that peaked from the patches of bare skin, it had taken moments for that devilish curl of the Kingpin's lips to unfurl and something else come forth.

Kingpin was a force of human nature. Built by weights and sheer spite. He was aggression, darkness, he was the devil amongst demons, he was a pendulum that swung between the dark side of the underworld and the light side of a family man.

Most importantly.

Kingpin was an Alpha.

An Alpha tied to a Beta and a son.

Dark blue eyes shifted, bleeding red before the massive bulk of a man lifted the gun and fired a single shot. The sizzle of the blast prickled the side of his face as the beam shot over his shoulder and the thump of a body falling told him that his spider senses were off.

Peter had studied many things but Omegean Biology wasn't one of them. He knew the fundamentals like many but the liquid fire that pooled at the base of his spine and slithered its way up left him standing rigid and an ache between his legs had him hissing.

Peter didn't remember closing his eyes, he didn't hear Kingpin move, his senses were so out-of-order he flinched when a large hand settled atop his head. "Shhh." Peter felt himself tugged into Kingpins girth, it had made him tremble and a whine had escaped him.

Later. Much later. Peter would learn that the man who was intent on killing him had cuddled him on an impossibly massive bed, the Alpha crooning, hands that could bend steel caressed him like a lover would, and for three days helped him through his first heat.

"Call me Wilson. Wilson Fisk."

Awareness had come in doses. The feel of soft cotton against his bare skin, the slick between his thighs, the ache somewhere deep and personal, classical music played in the background drowning the hitch in his chest, relief had been a burst of gratitude as shaky fingers touched the familiar texture of his torn mask.

The stretchy fabric cover his nose an encircled his cheeks and curved along his brow, seemingly glued to his skin. Hair, ears, lips, and chin were as exposed as the rest of him.

Before Peter could sit up a hand came from no where and settled on his chest, thumb and finger digging into his collarbone as he was pushed back into the mattress.

Pliant.

Weak.

A mess.

Kingpin was a solid presence he hadn't noticed until that moment. Hard naked lines with impossibly wide shoulders and solid smooth skin with not a hint of hair except for two perfectly sculpted eyebrows that furrowed in contemplation. "Where do we go from here Spiderman?"

It had been when that hand slipped and encircled his throat did Peter feel his body involuntarily move. Legs splaying openly and back arching as a familiar haze of arousal overwhelmed the need to run.

Wilson was an exceptional lover. His first Alpha, his first Knot, Peter never expected to be the Mistress of his arche nemesis, he didn't expect to have heats that were bursts of short frequent intervals, he didn't expect the open invitation to spend it with the Alpha, and he didn't expect the absolute possessiveness of Wilson or just how much control an Alpha like Wilson had over an Omega like Peter.

"Save the world but you will not interfere with my organization and you will be my most prized possession."

It was a story twisted by biology, twisted by the illogical logic of an emotion one could say was love if you squint, and the reason Spiderman dressed as a different character jumped from the side lines and into traffic, using his strength to flip a car that was chasing the Kingpin.

It rankled something deep that the urge to protect made him feel like a villain and the mocking laughter of Kingpin getting away hit him hard.

Fighting The Avengers to keep the Alpha alive had never been part of the plan, watching the chase from a random store front window, hearing the helicopters, it was a spur of the moment decision to steal a face bandana with a skull smile and a pair of polarized wide swimming goggles.

Running fast and hard he didn't use his webs and instead focused on his natural talent and that primal urge to protect the knot-head responsible to keep him blissed out for his next upcoming heat.

Toe to toe with Captain America and the Winter Soldier was... Thrilling. As Spiderman there was an awareness of maintaining his cool but as a stranger with a cheap mask and flannel shirt Peter could catch the Winter shoulders Vibranium arm and force the man to the ground before kicking Captain America's shield and tossing the pompous soldier away like a rag doll.

Peter's body moves on auto pilot as he flips backwards and moves with grace and fluidity as a mess of weaponry aim for him. Between Iron Man's blasts, Hawkeyes arrows, Black Widows bullets, Peter feels like he's dancing on the edge of death and it leaves him feeling hot and aroused.

Slipping beneath an abandoned truck he sticks his hand on the underside and with hard pushes against the asphalt he uses the truck to plow through what traffic is left and holding his breadth Peter pushed up with his leg and the truck flipped, the roof smashing on the ground and catching sparks.

Letting out a whoop, his flannel shirt wafting in the air he grinned behind the mask as he surfed for a stretch of time before coming to a halt and with Iron Man trailing him Peter ran.

Hard.

Fast.

Through the city.

Forcing the Avengers to chase him and not Kingpin.

More later...

*Part 2*

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