#your fate was decided long ago. this was inevitable

[itsalwaysforyou]

one trick ahead of disaster

kenny ortega, descendants / alan menken, one jump ahead (reprise)

[poppadom0912]

Hii! 🙋🏻‍♀️

I saw that you are accepting requests, can I request an imagine with Jay Halstead where he and the reader (a surgeon) don't get along very well and, as fate would have it, they both live in the same building. One night the reader discovers that there is a camera hidden in the lampshade that she got from a strange guy, so the guy threatens her and Jay protects her. 😅❤️

Sorry for my English.

Warnings: Stalking/pedo men, brief hospitals, small injuries, and swearing.

A/N: Now that my series is done, I can finally get to completing and putting out all these requests. I wrote this in school. And do not apologise for your English, it was perfect.

Life is stressful right now so I lowkey got carried away writing this because it's somehow nearly 3k words but please do enjoy this!!

You weren’t too sure when it all actually started but it was too late to reverse time now.

Growing up, there was no way to avoid the Halstead brothers because all the way throughout your childhood up until the age of eighteen, you all went to school together and outside, your mothers were near inseparable. You could never catch a break.

What made matters even more confusing was that you didn’t mind Will, on fact, the two of you were quite good friends. You tolerated Will and with both your combined loves for medicine, an inevitable friendship bloomed but even with this, you and Jay just could not get along.

The only time you ever found solace was when the two of you finally parted ways after high school. You remained in Chicago to become a doctor and later surgeon while Jay, he spontaneously decided to enrol to become an army ranger. Your shock could not be hidden.

With both brothers out your life, days were so much more simple. From time to time, you wouldn’t say it aloud but you missed Wil’s company but Jay, his absence almost made it as though he never existed in the first place. And yes, maybe that was a bit cruel but the genuine hatred you had at the mere thought of him or the sight of his face, it made you want to hurl.

And the rest was history. Even with the more recent parts being a bit more pleasant yet depressive, your pure hatred for him didn’t seem to wane.

*****

Fast forward a few years and this is how it all is: your father remained ever so absent, both mothers passed away several years ago, Pat died last year, you and Will worked together and you and Jay weren’t exactly civil.

Living in the same building, on the exact same floor and literal doors apart could only do so much damage.

Today had been a very, very long day. You had just been on shift for a double that had run over because of the complicated surgery that almost went sideways last minute. You were practically dead on your feet. You loved trauma surgery as much as the next trauma surgeon but you could go without blood and scalpels for the next few hours because sleep was calling your name like a siren song.

Upon Connor’s insistence, he drove you home because he expressed his fear of you sleeping on the train and never getting off.

Finally in your apartment building, you dragged your feet to your door, your keys almost missing the hole due to your sudden misalignment. Your mind was nearing haziness but with one final push, you were inside and collapsed on your bed.

Sleep was instant. It was expected but you also weren’t surprised when you knocked out and woke up randomly at two in the morning. You felt semi-rejuvenated but you could definitely sleep for longer.

Drowsily, you stripped out of your clothes, chucking them towards the basket before walking into the bathroom. Doing what you needed to do, you returned and searched for comfortable pyjamas that were good enough for this heat.

Standing half naked in your own bedroom in the apartment that you rented alone was a completely normal thing to do. Never in your life did you need to be paranoid or extra careful. You were in the comfort of your own home, so why was there the need to be riddled with anxiety.

Well, apparently you should’ve because as you pulled you cotton shorts on, rummaging through your draw for an oversized shirt, you caught a miniscule red dot. You were so tired you contemplated if it was a hallucination but a few minutes later, remaining in the same position, the nano dot was still there.

Diverting your attention to the suspicious dot, you threw on a random shirt but somehow, during the milliseconds your head spent under the shirt before it reappeared, the red dot disappeared.

Now you were on edge. Sleep didn’t come as easy this time.

In the morning, everything looked the same. Going around, you tried to look for anything that could’ve been tampered with but alas, everything was in tip top condition. Maybe you really were so out of that that you were delusional, it all really could’ve been a hallucination.

You had a few more hours before you needed to go back to work and considering the state of your empty fridge, grocery shopping seemed like a promising idea.

Your sweetening mood however quickly turned sour at the familiar sight of a certain detective standing down the hallway, walking in the same direction as you towards the buildings only elevator.

Sighing in disappointment, you readjusted the tote bag on your shoulders and walked ahead anyway. There was no way you were letting this man ruin your mood.

Being stuck in the elevator though, it did ruin your mood a little.

For once in your entire life though, Jay didn’t rile you up. He didn’t say anything nor did he even attempt to roll his eyes when he saw you. It was weird, he barely even acknowledged you.

And you hated to admit it, but you didn’t like it. As much as you despised the man, Jay acting as if you were a ghost was something that irked you. But obviously, you were never going to tell him that, it’d only boost his already enormous ego.

*****

“You look like a rat.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

You took it all back. Everything you said two days ago, you were taking it all back. Jay could rot and burn in hell and you still wouldn’t care.

Over the course of twelve hours, something must’ve changed because Jay’s renewed vigour was back and it was here to stay. You didn’t relish his silence long enough because the second he opened his mouth, your headache returned.

Next time, you were dragging Will and forcing him to escort you up to your apartment door because at least then he’d save you, he’d make this all much more bearable.

The sudden change in weather suited your mood, the rain mimicking your emotions that Jay was only half responsible for. The other half was a result of your newly achieved paranoia and anxiety that made itself known whenever you came home.

No matter where you searched or how many hours you slept, the red dot came and then disappeared again. It was annoying and it came to the point that you tried avoiding you bedroom especially as much as possible. To not be comfortable and safe in your own home wasn’t right.

Rolling your eyes, you fished your keys out of your bag and ignored whatever Jay was saying. You’d known him for so long that blocking out his voice had become second nature, it was something you did subconsciously.

You wished his apartment was before yours, that way at least you could have some peace but life worked in funny ways.

Stopping in front of your door, you were just about to unlock it when your body froze.

“What’s wrong?”

The sudden change in your mood caught him off guard, your frozen body worrying him slightly. He might’ve shared your feelings of hostility but you were his older brothers best friend, which had to count for something.

Following your line of sight, Jay’s eyes hardened at the unlocked door, a slither of light leaking out from inside as the door sat ajar. You definitely locked it this morning, there was no doubt about it.

Maybe you had the right to be paranoid. Perhaps you should’ve acted on it sooner.

Not wasting another second, Jay pushed you behind him and drew his gun. With his shoe, he gently nudged the door open and began surveying the apartment bit by bit with practised precision.

You hadn’t seen the man in action for a while now, it was weird to see him so proper and serious.

With nothing out of place and all valuable belongings safe and sound, Jay deduced that for now, things should be fine but if need be, if anything was out of the ordinary, he was the first person you called.

And for the first time ever in over thirty years, you made Jay a promise.

*****

You kept to your promise. This was a matter you weren’t going to mess around with, even if it was with Jay.

You had just come out of the shower, hair dripping wet, shorts and an oversized shirt on because despite the rain it was still humid and the summer heat wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Stepping into the dark room, you started patting your hair dry with a towel and walked towards the lamp so there was at least some lighting. A dimly lit room made you feel less paranoid.

It was upon turning the lamp on though did your anxiety peak. This new height it reached making it hard for you to breathe all of a sudden.

Without even thinking of the consequences, Jay’s number was the first thing you found on your phone, his contact name pressed within seconds of your discovery.

Heart pounding out of your chest, you forced yourself to move at the sound of the door. This fear was almost paralysing, you didn’t even know what to make of all of it.

“What happened?” Jay’s concern was immediate. All you did was call him and he came over without question. Your call alone told him enough.

You stared at him wide eyed, words lodged at the back of your throat but they wouldn’t go any further than that. Remaining wordless, you simply grabbed his wrist and dragged him towards your room and he followed obediently.

Your bedroom was now back to pitch black; you turned the lamp off straight away because the pyjamas you wore left little for imagination. That trail of thought made you want to be sick.

Jay stood beside you; your hand still wrapped around his wrist tightly while your other still held the wet hair towel that you probably should put away. He surveyed the dark room, taking it all in and trying to poke out anything out of the ordinary.

It was only when you tugged on his wrist, his head turning down to you before following your line of sight and pointed finger towards your innocent looking lamp that idly sat on your bedside table.

But it turned out to be not so innocent after all. Jay immediately saw the red dot no matter its small size, he saw it straight away and alarm bells went off.

Gently prying your fingers off his wrist, Jay holstered his gun and strode towards the lamp, tilting the lamp shade as he fiddled with something underneath. It didn’t take long before he stood up to his full height with a small black square in his palm.

This all-escalated way too fast for your liking.

*****

Jay refused to let you see anything from what he told you was a camera; he wouldn’t let you see it even for a price but he did briefly talk about what he saw in very little detail. What he told you was more than enough to make you want to bleach your body in a bath and move out of state to a place no one would know you.

Jay also wasn’t one hundred percent confident in letting you return back to your apartment alone. That’s how you found yourself wrapped in a blanket sitting cross-legged on his sofa, hiding yourself and your body from the world. Even with your shirt and shorts on, you felt liked dying at the thought of a man staring you down with intentions all but pure.

Gosh, you wanted to be sick.

Slowly sipping some water from a cup Jay silently handed you, you tried relaxing, rotating your shoulders to try release any of the tension but you failed. Fidgeting with anything was the only way you were able to not focus on the conversation Jay was having on the phone in the next room over. He was probably most likely talking to someone else from Intelligence.

The rest of the night, well more very early morning really, Jay explained the plan about how Intelligence were going to go about this but it would all happen in the morning at an actual suitable time.

With much bickering, Jay forced you into his bed as he took the sofa. It was weird that this was the most civil and even most nicest interaction the two of you ever had in either of your lifetimes. You wouldn’t tell him this unless under a life-or-death situation, but you kind’ve liked it. When Jay wasn’t being such a bastard, he was actually kind of decent.

Goodness, thinking about him was not something you would’ve ever thought of doing before yet here you were, thinking about your childhood nemesis at work.

The morning was relatively fine sprinkled with bits of awkwardness. Jay forcefully drove you to work when you insisted on going in today despite his attempts of getting you to stay home. If you tried and told Ms Goodwin the truth, she was very likely to give you the day off. Your stubbornness didn’t wane though.

You shift was normal, going from boring and mundane to fast paced just how you liked it. Nothing changed and it was relieving to be surrounded by familiarity and some sort of routine, it was a big distraction from the mess waiting for you at home. You tried keeping yourself occupied at every moment because any second you got alone with your deprecating thoughts, you were for sure going to spiral to a dark place.

And you’d been doing a great job at keeping busy till a certain detective walked in through the ED doors.

From the corner of your eyes, nothing about him looked off but when you squinted and walked towards him, you could make out a bloody gash poking out from his ripped jacket sleeve.

Now, Jay being hurt at work was nothing new. In fact, it was to be expected and you’d never been too bothered by it unlike Will was whenever his injured brother walked in so casually like it was another normal Wednesday.

However, you knew what he was doing at work today and your concerns peaked to such a height that Will had no reason to be worried anymore; you took it all from him.

“What happened?” You tried to remain somewhat calm, schooling your face as you dragged his non-injured arm towards an empty treatment room. Internally, you were glad Will was in surgery otherwise he’d be smirking and laughing like a manic at the sight he was seeing, a sight he’d never even envision in his dreams.

“We found the guy.” Jay ignored your question, begrudgingly sitting down on the bed, rolling his eyes when you wouldn’t let him get up. “We arrested him. Platt’s booking him as we speak.”

And just like that, all the weights pushing you down under the ground dissipated and you were beyond relieved.

You hands faltered as they went to grab some gauze, your eyes looking up to see whether or not he was lying but the soft smile spread across his lips, you didn’t need to question his credibility.

Without thinking, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and interlocked around his neck. Instinctively, you squeezed him a little, eyes shut as you relished in the good news. For a while, the world around you didn’t exist before it all came rushing back.

Suddenly, you abruptly pulled back, eyes wide in shock as your actions sunk in. Pressing your lips together tightly, you avoided eye contact and went back to preparing the gauze and butterfly strips, maybe even some wipes to see the real extent of the damage your stalker inflicted onto Jay.

Jay huffed in amusement and you could feel his eyes burning into the side of your head. All of a sudden, you felt the need to smother his god forsaken handsome face-

What the fuck? There was no way you just thought that.

“He looks worse than me, don’t worry.” Jay started again, a smug smirk on his face as he spoke, his eyes not moving from your face. “He was being a bit of a dick so I roughed him up a little. This little nick is nothing.”

And for once, you didn’t doubt the truth behind his words. You fondly rolled your eyes before going to clean his bicep that was no longer covered by his jacket.

“My saviour.” You smiled placatingly, making brief eye contact before breaking it. “What would I have done without you.”

And for once again, there was no sarcasm dripping from your words. Behind them lay mostly the truth and maybe a hint of your typically sarcasm but without his help, who knows what would’ve happened.

“All in a days work.” Jay’s face didn’t change, his expression not moving a single bit. For a reason beyond your medical and surgical knowledge, you blushed, cheeks randomly feeling flushed.

Maybe now with childhood rivalry forgotten and shoved aside, things between the two of you could get better.

[agathaandbrienneslesbian]

Hearts of Justice

Miranda Hilmarson x Secretary!Reader

Hello everyone and happy new year to you all <3 I am back with a new mini-fic.

Decided to make a lil illustration for the fic :3

Reminder that I have a Taglist now so make sure to use it <3

Also big thanks to @weemssapphicfor beta reading this piece <3

Disclaimer: English is not my first language!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissies, Love confessions

A/N: Y/N is a secretary at the police station where Miranda works. But what happens when y/n has to console Miranda after a rather rough breakup?

Words: 2'100+

AO3 Link

Taglist

-----

You have been working at the station for about two years now. 

When you first started, Miranda Hilmarson had been the only friendly face there. The two of you immediately became best friends, spending your breaks and sometimes even free time together. 

Technically, you weren’t a Constable, like Miranda. No, you worked as the station's secretary. You supposed this might have been the reason why they didn’t necessarily welcome you. 

Of course, you have been the topic of many bets and pranks, especially from your male coworkers. You never understood the allure of such childish things but… when you were with Miranda, childish things seemed to just make sense. Listening to her gush about her favourite show or how passionate she was about her work, despite being picked on herself, was the highlight of your day. You supposed that’s why the two of you got along so well. Miranda and you shared the same struggles. Even though the both of you didn’t necessarily have a good connection to your coworkers, you still made it through the day with the help of each other. 

A few months ago, you noticed how your affection towards the blonde Constable has changed. It has… intensified. And, of course, it had to happen right when that stupid Adrian dumped her. You never understood what she saw in him… he was a liar, a cheat, didn’t treat her right. It made your blood boil. Seeing her be so hopeful when you knew all he would do was make her cry, break her… it made you so unbelievably angry. And when the inevitable happened, and he dropped her, you were there. You caught her in your arms, cradled her gently and whispered apologies and soft affirmations as she sobbed in your arms on the couch of your flat. 

“He didn’t deserve you”, “I am so sorry he did this to you”, “You deserve better, Mir”, “I will not leave your side. I promise”, “Never again will I let anyone hurt you like this”

It took you a good hour to have her relax in your arms. Still, you didn’t move. This is when it hit you. This exact, stupid moment was when it hit you. How much you actually admired her. How much you cared for her… how much you loved her. It hit you like a brick, square in the face, and your heart sank. You were in love with her. You couldn’t tell her… never… you were her best friend after all, and you certainly didn’t want her to think you used her in her most vulnerable state, so… you stayed quiet. 

For days

For weeks 

For months

Half a year has passed since that fateful night, and it simply got more and more difficult to hold back your emotions, your feelings, your affections. So, you started distancing yourself. Small things at first like your lunch break, the hours you worked. 

In the end, you only saw her at the station, walking in and out. You have completely detached yourself from her and it… hurt. But you couldn’t tell her… could you? She wouldn’t understand… 

It took all your strength to deny her once more when she asked you, with a hopeful glimmer in her eyes, if you wanted to join her for a beer after work. You hated the defeated look on her face as you declined, coming up with yet another excuse. But this time… something was... different. 

You could swear you saw tears. Miranda was… truly upset. This wasn’t your intention, this wasn’t what you wanted… before you could stop her or say something else, tell her you changed your mind, she walked off. Strong and long legs taking her down the halls and out the door. With a defeated sigh and tears burning in your eyes, you leaned back. That’s it… you’ve done it… Miranda probably hated you now.

“I would go after her if I were you…”

A strong voice spoke from behind, and you jumped, not expecting to be ambushed like that. You quickly turned in your chair to see the small detective standing behind you. A frown laid itself on your face as you looked at her questioningly.

“I- what?”

“Oh, you heard me.”

You looked at the brunette, then turned your face to the exit. Maybe… with a quick move, you stood, making your way out. Robin was right. You couldn’t let this be. You wouldn’t be the reason why Miranda cried. Never. You promised her. 

Panting heavily, you finally caught up with the blonde who sat on a bench outside, frantically smoking a cigarette and wiping tears away. The sight broke your heart.

“Mir…”

You said softly, watching as she jumped and her eyes widened. She turned her head away and quickly wiped away her tears.

“Yeah… yeah?”

You took a deep breath and sat down next to her, just looking at her, unsure about what to do. You took a deep breath and pulled her into a hug. She quickly wrapped her arms around you, hiding her face in your neck. You could physically feel her relax in your arms, and it made your heart constrict.

“I’m sorry… I would love to go have a beer with you tonight.”

You spoke softly, running your fingers through her hair. Gods, you missed being this close to her. 

“Really…?”

The blonde asked quietly. With a deep breath and a nod, you pulled her even closer.

“Yes, really.”

You whispered and let go of her. Miranda let go reluctantly and smiled at you, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Wanna… meet at my place?” she asked softly and you nodded. Taking her hands and squeezing them gently. Miranda’s cigarette now on the floor, forgotten by the two of you. Her smile brightened a bit and she nodded.

“Then I’ll have some beers cold and ready when you arrive.”

“That sounds wonderful!”

—

The rest of the day had been strangely uneventful, besides the growing worry and fear of what tonight might bring for you. You almost lost your cool this afternoon, wanting to press sweet kisses to her head and face. But you held yourself back. Miranda wasn’t interested in you like that… 

After work, you quickly rushed home, took a shower and changed into something a bit less formal and more comfortable. You styled your hair and added just a smidge of makeup. Not too much. With one final look in the mirror, you quickly made your way over to Miranda’s place. Standing in front of the door, your nerves started getting the better of you. You can’t do this… this is gonna be too much for you. Before you could decide if you wanted to leave or not, the door in front of you opened. 

“Ah, I thought I had heard something!”

Miranda smiled down at you and stepped aside for you to enter. With a shy smile, you stepped into her flat. It had been weeks since you’d last been here. It smelled like her and you felt slightly dizzy. After taking off your shoes and sitting down on her couch, Miranda quickly followed with two beers, handing you one. 

“I’m glad you’re here. I started to miss your presence.” she said softly and blushed, quickly taking a swig from her beer. You did the same, trying to suppress your blush. She missed you… 

“You’ve been very busy lately… what had you so occupied? Maybe a special someone?”  She asked softly, wiggling with her eyebrows but the way she asked the question… something seemed off.

“Wha- no! Well… not really… not like you think… I’m not…”

A bright blush crept onto your face, and you quickly took another big sip of your beer. Gods, you wouldn’t survive this. Miranda watched you closely, a sad frown on her face.

“Then… why were you avoiding me..?”

The pain you felt in your heart almost made you double over. This is never what you wanted. You never wanted to hurt her. With a sigh, you set the beer down and started fiddling with your fingers.

“It’s not… easy..”

“Tell me! Please! Have… have I done something wrong?”

“No…”

“Have… have I hurt you? Have I been a bad friend? Y/n please! I must know. What have I done to you? Have I said something that upset you or-“

“NO! No… Miranda… no, you could never…”

You sighed. You couldn’t tell her… 

Looking up you saw her face, pain, fear, worry, sadness. You- you just had yelled at her…

“Oh gods, Miranda, I am so sorry I… I didn’t-“

“No it’s.. It’s okay…”

She spoke softly and set her beer down. She was about to get off the couch, but you grabbed her wrist, holding her in place. You had to tell her. You couldn’t see her so upset any more, it was too painful. The blonde’s icy blues looked at you, confusion written on her face as she waited for you to proceed.

“Miranda I- the reason why I was so distant… I don’t know how to tell you.”

You took a deep breath. Miranda had moved your grip, holding your hand now. Her thumb softly rubbing over your knuckles, trying to help you feel calm. It just made you even more nervous. She cared so much. 

“The reason why I was so distant was… I am in love with you.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for an answer but when none came you pulled your hand from her grip and covered your face.

“I- I have realised that I felt this way the day that asshole broke up with you… it hit me like a brick and… I didn’t want to tell you. You were so broken… you needed a friend not… that. I-I couldn’t be around you any more because it was just eating me up from the inside every time we spent time together. I had to distance myself because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable… I didn’t want to- to take advantage of you I- I care too much… Miranda, I love you…”

Silence. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes but if you had looked up you would have seen Miranda's face. A bright blush had covered her face, ears and chest, eyes wide, staring at you with hope, with longing, with unspoken emotions. You loved her. She could be loved, someone, you really loved her. 

“I-I’m sorry… I’ll see myself out, please just forget-“

“No…”

You turned to look at her, taking in her features. She was… smiling. Not in a ‘making fun of you’ type of way, no, a genuine smile. Miranda moved closer, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you close, running her fingers through your hair as she pulled you against her body. Instinctively, your arms wrapped around the strong blonde, falling into her embrace, her scent, her soft breaths against your shoulder, falling into her. 

“Y-you’re not mad? Uncomfortable? Disgusted?”

Miranda pulled away to cup your face, wiping a tear from your cheek as she looked into your eyes.

“I could never. I love you too much.”

She whispered, smiling softly down at you. Your eyes widened. She… loved you?

“Miranda I-“

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked into her eyes, her icy blue orbs reflecting nothing but love, care and hope. You nodded, cupping her cheeks and gently tucking some hair behind her ear.

“Please!”

She leaned in, you felt her warm breath on your skin and then her soft, warm lips against yours. It was a perfect fit. Like the last piece in a puzzle. She completed you and in that moment all of your worries flew out the window. Miranda was gentle and careful. Her lips moved against yours with soft movements, and she made sure to hold you as if you were about to fall apart. She held you, she protected you. 

After a minute or two, she pulled away and smiled softly at you, pressing a gentle peck to your forehead. You smiled and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of her soft, warm lips against your forehead. You belonged here. In her arms, in her embrace. 

“After that night… I started realising how much you actually mean to me. Of course, it took a while for me to realise that what I felt for you was more than friendship. When you started distancing yourself, I was afraid… I thought you noticed. That I- somehow had shown too much, said too much… scared you off…” Miranda admitted and stroked your cheek gently. Keeping eye contact with you. You pressed a quick peck to her lips and the palm of her hand.

“You could never. I love you, Miranda.”

The blonde Constable smiled and pulled you into another embrace, leaning back against the couch and having you snuggle into her arms. Where you belonged.

“I wouldn’t want to be loved by anyone but you.”

-----

Taglist: @erinyaya @phexyce @aemilia19 @weemssapphic @gela123 @winterfireblond @Xxmecverxx @unicorniusfallapatorious @gwenistheloml @yourgaeyisshowing

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[dottores]

HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui & fontaine, reader gets a bit hurt in this chapter but only briefly.

notes: y'all we are officially 50k words in omg what a milestone. we are almost there--they are going to meet soon... but technically.... well you'll see. there are THREE special cameos in this chapter

A WARM WELCOME

“Now is not the time, doctor.”

Pantalone didn’t even raise his head to look at Dottore as he scribbled away at whatever parchment he was writing on. Dottore pressed his lips together, eyes cold beneath his mask as he watched Pantalone, unmoving. The windows of his office creaked against the winds outside, fireplace crackling to keep the room warm but other than that, silence rang loudly between the two of them.

Finally, when Dottore made no move to leave, Pantalone looked up. “What is it? I have a week to prepare for the induction of the Eleventh. I don’t have time for petty complaints.”

Dottore should be insulted, he could feel his irritation rising at the man’s comment but he forced himself to push it away. He had more important things to deal with, notably, his soulmate and as much as he hated to admit it, Pantalone’s resources were necessary if he wanted to find her before someone else did… before she got herself and by extension, him, hurt.

“You offered me resources a few years ago,” Dottore finally said, watching Pantalone carefully for a reaction. “I would like them now.”

The Regrator was a sharp man. Dottore did not have to go into detail for purple eyes to flicker down to his thumb, where the red thread connected him to his soulmate. He watched as Pantalone’s brows furrowed, as he tried to figure out why the sudden change after years of Dottore denying her very existence to him. 

“You have terrible timing, doctor,” Pantalone murmured, pushing the parchments aside as he leaned back in his seat to look up at Dottore. “My resources have been all but expended between the upcoming event and trying to track down that menace to the east who has been slaughtering our underlings.

Dottore’s lips twisted. “It is not my timing that is terrible,” he said coolly, Pantalone raised his eyebrows and Dottore exhaled. “It’s hers. I believe she is here. In Snezhnaya.”

Pantalone exhaled, turning his head to the side to look out the window. “That’s not good,” he murmured. 

“I know that,” Dottore said shortly.

“Why not send one of your segments?” Pantalone asked after a moment, pen tapping against the wood of his desk in an unsteady manner that had Dottore’s eye twitching in annoyance.

“They’re busy,” Dottore answered tensely. 

A lie. Both Epsilon and Rho were back in Snezhnaya City with nothing to do until Dottore decided what research he wanted them to continue on after finishing a round of successful experiments in Archon residue down in southern Liyue. Dottore just didn’t want to send them after her. 

Epsilon was Epsilon. He could not trust that the segment wouldn’t do something foolish driven by the emotions that the rest of them did not have or were not capable of understanding. He was the one that Dottore worried about the most ever since the thread appeared, fearing that he would do something that would irreparably strengthen the bond… like forcing Dottore to meet her because he thought it would be best for them.

And Rho had been the one most vocal about at least letting the kids meet her and if the kids met her, he knew it would inevitably lead to Dottore meeting her and that was the last thing he wanted. 

He had a feeling that Pantalone could read right through the excuse if the unimpressed look on his face had anything to say about it but Dottore did not waver, raising his chin and staring down at where the man was sitting. 

“Unfortunately, I don’t have the resources to look for her right now,” Pantalone finally said, shaking his head and scooching his chair back to ruffle through one of the drawers of his desk. “If you can send one of your segments to take out the threat in the east, I might be able to conjure some up and have them keep an eye out but right now my hands are tied.”

“Fine,” Dottore said sharply. “Give me the information you’ve gathered. I’ll send a segment to track him down and kill him.”

Pantalone raised his eyebrows again, this time not even bothering to ask the question that Dottore knew was dancing through his mind: I thought your segments were busy, he could hear the mocking words just through the man’s expression. 

Instead, Pantalone just slid a thick folder across the desk to give to Dottore. He snatched it and tucked it under his arm, intent on passing it off to Rho before he returned to his labs, waiting for Pantalone to confirm that he would look for her.

“We don’t want him dead. We want him captured,” Pantalone warned. “Pierro wants information from him… then I’ll convince him to pass him off to you. Another test subject, you’re welcome.”

Dottore only smiled thinly. “And the girl?” he pressed.

“I’ll do what I can,” Pantalone said. “What do you know about where she is? Western or Eastern Snezhnaya? The border? I need to be able to narrow down the search, I can’t send men all across Snezhnaya with the upcoming event. I need them in the city to prepare for the arrivals of the aristocrats.” 

“I know that she is in Snezhnaya,” Dottore told him. Maybe he would know more if he would swallow his pride and reach out to her, but that simply was not an option. 

Pantalone stared at him, irritation thinly veiled behind his purple eyes. “You do not like making things easy, do you?” the corners of Pantalone’s eyes crinkled in annoyance at Dottore’s words before he finally sighed, shaking his head. 

“I’ll see what I can do,” he finally repeated, “but with nothing to go on, I can make no promises that I’ll find her before someone else does… so, for all of our sakes, I suggest you try to narrow that down.”

It was cold. 

You knew that was something you should have expected and you thought you prepared adequately for it but now, you thought that no amount of preparation could have made you ready to face this. As soon as you had crossed over into Snezhnaya, the temperature had plummeted, the sheer cold was beyond anything you had ever felt before--cold enough to crack the stones of the buildings in the small villages littered throughout the countryside, cold enough to freeze you from the inside out.

Traveling during the night simply wasn’t feasible, as soon as the sun crossed the horizon, the already bone-chilling temperatures plunged further. You had been lucky the first night when you were traveling down the main road deeper into the northlands--you had bumped into an older man traveling back to his home from the one of the villages, he had ushered you back to his place and he and his wife had looked after you, warning you that you wouldn’t live through the night without shelter in Snezhnaya.

Since then, it’d been a game of survival. The deeper you got into Snezhnaya, the more winding and confusing the roads became, the harder it became to track down villages to find inns to stay at and the more nervous it made you about finding shelter for the night. You thought that Snezhnaya was a trap laid out for foreigners, only those who were born and raised there knew how to navigate the lands without meeting an untimely end. 

The tundra of the east appeared endless, a daunting venture you dared not make, and the forests of the west were dark and maze-like with dangerous creatures prowling about and the threat of getting lost and not making it to an inn before night fell was high… but the forest was the only way through to the mountain range south of the Snezhnayan capital city. If you wanted to get to the heart of the Fatui, you would have to trek through the forest and pray you stumbled upon one of the villages before the sunset. 

You exhaled, leaning back in your seat at the bar of the inn you were staying at as you swirled your empty glass between your fingers. You had reached the end of the main road, the only way further into Snezhnaya was through the forest now but the thought of entering it made you anxious. A part of you thought you might be better off heading back home. 

“Another?” the bartender questioned as he walked by you but you only shook your head, thanking him quietly as you remained lost in your own thoughts. 

You couldn’t turn back. Not now, not yet. You had promised yourself and your father that you wouldn’t return home until you had ample evidence to bring this to court… unless you died trying to get it.

Your grandfather didn’t want you going north. He thought that no amount of evidence would be worth you risking your life for but you disagreed. You didn’t think there was any world in which you’d be able to live with yourself knowing you didn’t even try. 

From the corner of your eye, you noticed that he was looking at you again--the man sitting at a table in the corner of the room. You couldn’t see his face, there was a hood masking it from view but you could feel his eyes on you, he’d been watching you for nearly thirty minutes now. A part of you wanted to confront him, grab your stuff and head over to his table and demand to know why he kept staring at you but… the more logical part of you knew you shouldn’t. You didn’t know why he was staring at you and all of the worst possibilities were running through your head:

Does he know what you’re here for?

Is he Fatui?

Is he planning on attacking you?

Your vision vibrated from where it was hidden beneath your cloak, warning you to prepare for a battle but you were not the battle type. You had never learned how to wield your vision in a combat manner and you didn’t know if he had a vision or not, you only knew that he had a large claymore set down on the seat next to him and all you had was a small blade that couldn’t even be called a sword. You had only learned to use your vision in the way your father and grandfather taught you when you were younger and it was not something you enjoyed doing to people. 

Finally, you forced yourself to stand up. Your gaze caught the window on the far end of the room as you rose to your feet--it was dark already, night had fallen and the hazard of the cold had become even more real. 

With a sharp inhale, you turned on your heel to make your way over to the table the man was sitting at. You watched as his head turned to follow you as you approached him and you watched as his body tensed, gloved fingers gripping the edge of the table tight as you slid onto the bench across from him.

“Is there a reason you keep staring at me?” you finally asked. You leaned back against the wall that the bench was placed against, feigning ease, but your legs were tense, ready to move at the first sign of an attack.

“You’re not from here,” the man said after a moment of silence, you caught a glimpse of red beneath the hood he wore. His accent was foreign--unlike the Snezhnayan dialect you’d become used to throughout your travels. 

“Neither are you,” you retorted. He shifted back in his seat, the lighting of the inn revealing equally red hair hanging in his eyes, cold and empty with something dark thinly veiled behind them that made your skin crawl--eyes that had witnessed massacre, eyes that promised vengeance. Vengeance for what? You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you wanted to know, you knew it would lead to nothing good. 

You suddenly felt as if you had made a mistake. 

“There aren’t many foreigners this deep in Snezhnaya,” he noted cooly. “Just merchants… are you a merchant?”

Somehow, you felt as if ‘yes’ was the wrong answer. 

He was accusing you of something, you could feel it in your bones but you didn’t know what he was accusing you of. Being a spy? Was he Fatui? 

“I’m not a merchant,” you said, taking in a small puff of air when you caught the blood smeared across the man’s chin and neck as the hanging lights in the middle of the tavern swayed a bit. His lips pressed together subtly at your words and your vision was becoming even more erratic--danger, danger, danger, it warned you.

Somehow, you knew now that ‘no’ had been the wrong answer too. 

“It’s hard traveling through Snezhnaya without knowing what paths to take, you can get lost easily… all of the paths on the old maps have been snowed out,” he responded. “How’d you make do?” 

“An older couple living off the main road pointed me in the right direction,” you told him. “How about you? Are you a merchant?”

You knew he wasn’t. No merchant traveled with blood staining their faces and a weapon the size of the average person. He had no goods that he had arrived with, he’d shown up at the inn a little after you had with only his sword in tow and his eyes were unfriendly and glacial, unlike the faux charisma that painted the expressions of merchants as they tried to get you to buy their products.

The man stared at you for a moment and then he said, “No,” with no further explanation.

The Fatui usually traveled in groups or as pairs. He had a foreign accent. He wore no mask or sigil that affiliated him with the organization as they usually did. Who the hell was he?

And then you remembered the hushed whispers of the elderly couple you had stayed with--warning you that the Fatui had become more active in their area because of a belligerent wreaking havoc throughout central Snezhnaya who had been spotted at a nearby inn. They told you to take care because they didn’t think that the Fatui would take kindly to any outsider in the area so long as the hostile remained terrorizing their strongholds but…

Was this…?

You watched him carefully, trying to figure it out without having to ask. You were several miles from where you had been staying with them now and it had been two and a half days. Traveling through Snezhnaya was slow and arduous, the wind fought you with every step and half of the time you were dragging yourself through snow that reached your knees. 

If this was him, then maybe… 

You didn’t even have a chance to finish the thought, head snapping to the side as the door to the inn slammed open and cold air rushed through the tavern at the entrance, blowing out half of the candles keeping the room lit up. Your stomach churned uncomfortably and from the corner of your eye, you watched as the man you were sitting with reached for his weapon. 

Who the hell was traveling in the dead of night?

Your throat felt tight as you watched another hooded figure step into the inn. You couldn’t make out his features in the dim lighting, you couldn’t even tell if he was armed or not but there was an odd vial that glowed blue even in the dark hanging from his right ear.

The bartender had paused in making a drink for one of the other patrons of the tavern, a wary look visible on his face that you caught as the chandelier swung dangerously beneath a harsh wind. You let out a shaky breath, the cold from outside was already creeping beneath your cloak and freezing your skin. You wondered why no one was shouting at him to close the damn door like they did to other people who arrived until the bartender finally spoke up, voice shaky: 

“Lord Harbinger,” he breathed out. “How can I-”

The man’s head turned in your direction--no, you realized, not your direction, his--and that was the only warning you got before the world around you exploded. 

The entire right side of his body felt like it was on fire. Dottore let out a spew of curses as his hand spasm and he dropped the vial he had been studying right to the ground, watching as the glass shattered and the silvery liquid splattered all over the floor, dissolving the tiles and eating through the ground.

Dottore exhaled, briefly shutting his eyes before looking down at the mess on the floor. His lips twisted in annoyance as he realized he was going to have to restart what he had been testing but the annoyance very quickly faded, instead shifting into confusion as the pain persisted. His gaze drew over to his arm--nothing was wrong with it on the surface level but it was a blinding type of pain that had him gritting his teeth, like a jagged blade was tearing through his bicep.

It was…

He hadn’t felt anything from her in nearly two weeks. No anxiety, no fear, no anger or sadness and certainly not any pain. He stared down at his arm, where the pain was coming from, and not for the first time since the accursed thread showed up, Dottore had no idea what to do. He thought that he should reach out to her, figure out what was going on and get a general idea of where she was so he could send one of his segments to find her. The pain was more than anything he had ever experienced through her and he wasn’t sure if it was just because she had a low pain tolerance and he was feeling what she was, or if it was because the pain was actually that bad. 

Neither boded well for her. 

But if he reached out to her, if she was fighting someone, it could distract her. 

Dottore’s teeth grit together. He didn’t know what would happen to him or the segments if she died. He didn’t know how it would affect them. Logically, he thought it shouldn’t affect them at all. They hadn’t met her yet and if the bond worked anything like how they believed it did, it shouldn’t take effect until after they met, which wasn’t going to happen… but after two weeks of silence, Dottore was unsure. Every day that passed, an odd, unfamiliar feeling expanded through his chest. He didn’t know how to describe it besides overwhelming and unwelcome but he knew it was because of her silence and the lack of communication through the bond. It caused an emptiness that made him question everything they had learned about the bond. 

And if mere silence could cause that, he wasn’t sure he wanted to risk knowing what her death would cause.

Are you okay? 

He asked it before he could decide against it, taking a seat back down at the lab table he had been working at as he waited for a response. Each second felt like an eternity, he could hear the silver liquid still eating through the ground below, sizzling and cracking as the floor dissolved wherever it touched the substance. 

He wondered if she would just ignore him like he did to her for years on end.

But then, his forearm stung--a familiar feeling that he hadn’t experienced in two weeks now. He hated how that empty feeling he hadn’t been able to get rid of since he had pushed her away immediately disappeared. It made him feel weak… as if he had no control over his own emotions like a puppet on a string being commanded by a stranger. He glanced down at his arm, red eyes flying over the words that had appeared.

Does it feel like I’m okay?

At once, he rolled his eyes, regretting reaching out to her. He rose to his feet again, pacing across the room to get the tools he needed to clean the mess of his mistake but before he even got halfway there, the pain tripled and a creeping fear began to spread through his chest. He grimaced as he leaned on a nearby counter, trying to regain control over himself but he found that he couldn’t--her fear and pain was simply too intense.

What happened? 

He slid down against the counter he was leaning on until he was sat on the floor. He watched the silvery liquid from the corner of his eye, watching as it ate through the ground closer and closer to him as he waited for a response from her. He despised how he couldn’t compartmentalize her feelings. He had learned how to separate them from his and the other segments but he had never figured out how to store them away and convert them into something that was easier for him to process. 

Attacked. 

Dottore felt cold. His gaze drew over to the window on the opposite wall of his lab--it was dark out, the sun had long set and the wind was harsh. He wondered if the coldness was a result of the damning realization that she was in trouble or if it was because she was outside. Either way, Dottore needed to act--if she was still being attacked, he had to get one of the segments there and if she was stuck in the cold running after being attacked, she would die to nature.

Dottore tried to push away the rising anger--the fury that never failed to appear whenever he was put into an impossible situation because of this bond, whenever he felt like the gods were looking down at him and laughing as he played right into their sick games. 

Who attacked you? Where are you?

He shot out questions to her at a rapid speed, the pain was getting worse on his end. He could feel a light-headedness and a fuzzy feeling beginning to seep through his body and mind. She had to be losing blood and too much of it. If she passed out, that would be the end. She’d be killed by the attacker or she’d be killed by the cold, there was no other fate that awaited her. 

Don’t know. An inn at -------

Dottore stared at the indecipherable words branded onto his forearm--he wasn’t sure if they were scribbles or an ancient language that he just couldn’t understand, another way for the gods to laugh at him by dangling the answer wants right in front of his face but making it so that he couldn’t understand it. 

What do you mean you don’t know? Figure it out.

Dottore wondered if she could sense his irritation at her response. He didn’t really care if she could, maybe it would make her think harder. 

Fatui, finally scrawled itself on his forearm and Dottore thought he might want to throw something because he had called it the moment that he had realized she might be coming north, he knew that between her being a foreigner and their subordinates being anxious over the masked hostile running through their camps that something would happen. They called him Lord Harbinger. 

Dottore stared at the words trying to piece together what was going on. Lord Harbinger? Pulcinella and Pantalone were rarely, if ever, sent on missions that would end in combat. As far as he was aware, Brighella was at Zapolyarny Palace working with Pierro on something. Capitano was traveling north from Natlan for the initiation of the new Harbinger in a few days, he’d be on a boat traveling the western sea. Scaramouche? It could-

He had a blue earring, it was bright.

A blue earring, he was acutely aware of the one hanging from his own ear, mind racing as he tried to remember where each of the segments were. Lambda and Theta were in Sumeru. Zeta was in Mondstadt. Delta and Iota were on the Fontaine border. Gamma, Epsilon and Kappa were all hanging around his labs. 

Rho, it dawned on Dottore suddenly. He had sent the segment south to track down the belligerent because their subordinates had proved incapable. He had mentioned that he was closing in on the man. Had she gotten caught in the crossfire? Was she traveling with him? 

No, that wasn’t possible. All reports had claimed that the hostile was traveling alone.

Rho, Dottore spit out, reopening the connection with the segment, intent on having him find the girl and drag her back across the border into Fontaine. Where are you?

Not now, Rho responded, voice cold and angry. It took a lot to anger Rho, he had tight control over his temper unlike the Theta and Delta segments. Dottore could feel something stinging his cheek, a cut--he wondered if the hostile had actually managed to land a blow on him, no matter how small. It would explain why he was so angry. 

Get back to where you came from. Now.

Now? Rho demanded, livid. I’m on him. 

She was there. At the inn. The reaction was instantaneous as Rho’s resolve wavered. If she dies because of you, you won’t even get the relief of deactivation.

Dottore rose to his feet again once he was certain that Rho had turned back, pacing across the length of his lab, careful to step over the melted ground where the substance had fallen. 

Once he found her, this would all be over. He’d have Rho bring her back to Fontaine whether she liked it or not, and once he knew where she lived, he’d make sure to send one of the other segments to keep an eye on her so something like this would never happen again.

Finally, he would have some semblance of control over the bond for the first time since it appeared. He’d no longer be hanging onto her whims, he’d no longer have to stress about her getting herself hurt or killed and how it would affect him, he’d no longer be bound to this mess and he’d never have to worry about accidentally running into her because the segment would keep her confined to the city and he would stay far from it.

He’d send the Zeta segment. He couldn’t send Theta because he didn’t trust him not to do something rash. He couldn’t send Delta, Rho or Epsilon because the younger segments were attached to them at the hip and they would press to meet her. Lambda was an option if he could ensure that the segment wouldn’t try to ‘handle her’ as he threatened to already. 

Relief began to inch its way through him—too soon.

He had jinxed himself.

She’s not here, he heard Rho tell him. I don’t know-

Dottore closed the connection, biting back vile curses as he pressed his fingers to the bridge of the nose and tried to think. 

Where could she have gone? It had only been a few minutes. She was hurt. She couldn’t have gotten far. 

Where are you? He finally decided to ask her and he waited, and waited, and waited for a response but was only met with the empty silence he had become accustomed to the past two weeks. 

“Where am I?” 

Your eyes followed the cloaked figure carefully, trying to keep your breath steady as the pain coursing through your arm gradually subsided. Your gaze flickered to the side, watching as the red, bubbling skin of your right arm began to smooth and clear beneath whatever substance that had been smeared over the burns. 

“What is this stuff?”

You had a lot of experience with using elemental energy to heal wounds. Fontaine City had some of the best medics throughout Teyvat--Wriothesley’s family’s special trait could call upon hydro energy to heal even the most fatal and grievous of wounds. He had never been able to wield it the way his family wanted him to but his grandfather was the best of the best, he had helped you when you had broken your arm and leg ten years ago after falling down the steps of the clocktower when exploring with Wrio.

This was not elemental energy. It was odd and cool, like gelatin, but it worked as fast as any medic--in no time, the pain was gone and the burns had vanished, leaving the skin of your arm unblemished again.

“Old magics,” the person responded. Their voice was low, androgynous. You couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman.

“Why did you help me?” you asked. “Who are you?”

You didn’t know where you were now--it was a dark room, a stone building with a fireplace on the opposite wall. The last you remembered, you had been in the snow. You had started to lose consciousness, the cold and the pain too much for your body to bear. You could barely even remember what had happened: you could picture the hooded man who you had been sitting with brandishing his claymore and the man that they had called Lord Harbinger meeting him blade for blade, pale fire coating his weapon and eating away at the wood of the inn, burning through your cloak down to the skin. You could hear the screams of the other patrons of the inn as they got caught in the crossfire of the battle between the two men. 

And then you were here, in this room… with this person. 

“Who are you?” you demanded, more insistently this time when you didn’t get a response.

Finally, a reaction from them. The flames flickered across their face as they turned to face you and finally, you got a glimpse beneath the hood… but it was not a human face that stared back at you. It was a mask, dark with a spade-like pattern around the eyes, a smile painted onto the plastic. 

“No one,” they replied, “just a trouper.”

What? You thought to yourself, confused. Your nose wrinkled and your brows furrowed as you mulled over the word. A trouper? Like the entertainers at the Grand Theater? 

“Why did you help me?” you tried again, raising your chin to meet the two voids in the eyeholes of the mask. They hadn’t tried to bind you or restrict your movement, they hadn’t even taken your weapon--just a bit of concentration and you could put yourself in control of the situation. 

They tilted their head to the side, you couldn’t see their eyes or expression but you knew they were smiling, “Is that how you treat someone who saved you?”

You hadn’t even moved, you stared at them, unmoving, forcing your body to relax. How had they known what you were thinking? You weren’t a person that was easy to read--if you were, you would’ve been put on trial for treason a long time ago. 

“Why did you save me?” you asked slowly, not letting them get out of answering the question. 

“Because I want to help you.” 

Yet again, they evaded the question. Your lips twisted in frustration, “Why?”

“Because I think we can help each other.”

There it was, you recognized, taking in a sharp breath. They wanted something from you. The air around you suddenly felt cold, as if the fire across the room had been snuffed out even though it was still burning bright. They were eerily still, almost like a statue as they watched you, waiting for a reaction. 

“Why do you think that?” you asked carefully.

“Do you really think you can infiltrate the Fatui on your own?”

You were on your feet in an instant, reaching for the blade sheathed at your side but your eyes widened when you realized it wasn’t there. You only had half of a second to react before you found yourself backed up against the wall, a forearm pressed to your throat and the tip of your own blade pressed to your side, threatening to puncture the skin.

It had just been on you. How did they get it?

“Well?”

Well what? You wanted to scream, mind panicked and racing as you tried to force yourself to calm down and think but it was hard to concentrate with your air being half-restricted and a blade pressed to your ribcage. 

They wanted you to answer their question, you realized, about infiltrating the Fatui.

“Yes,” you said but you weren’t even sure you believed it yourself. You kept telling yourself that you would figure out a plan once you got to the city and had a scope of the area and more information available to you but you had a feeling that nothing would change even once there. Zapolyarny Palace would be impenetrable. 

“How?” they murmured, not letting up on you. You wanted to turn your face away, unnerved by the proximity of the mask, but you thought that would show you as weak and you couldn’t afford to show weakness, not right now. “Do you plan to storm the palace? Face the Harbingers and demand retribution for your father? Do you think you will fly under the radar of the Knave’s webs of spiders? That you can simply walk past the automatons of the Marionette prowling the streets of the capital city? You will find yourself a victim of the Doctor’s twisted experiments or the Friar’s sick games before you even hope to find the evidence you seek.” 

You couldn’t mask your expression, not after hearing that. You stared at them, lips parting as if to speak but no words left them. You felt like a fish out of water--for the first time in a long time, you were fumbling for words, your tongue felt twisted and heavy.

How were you going to do it? The question laid atop you like a crown of thorns, tearing through your skin and scarring your face. You didn’t know. You didn’t know how you were going to do it. You used not being in the city as an excuse, convinced yourself that it was the only reason you haven’t thought up a plan yet but the truth was branded right on your face as you stared at the masked person: you simply didn’t know.

“I can help you,” they whispered, leaning in impossibly closer. “I can give you your in, the chance you need to find the proof.”

“How do you know all of this?” you finally asked and you hated how your voice cracked over your words but you were scared because if this person knew all of this then it could spell your end, just like that. All they had to do was send word to the Fatui and you’d have hell bearing down on your doors.

And if they knew about this…

“I know a lot,” they said cryptically. “Would you like me to help you?”

… did they know about your soulmate?

You let out another shaky breath, staring ahead. You didn’t know what to do. If you didn’t accept their help, would they sell you out to the Fatui? Or would they laugh and watch as you fumbled your way through Snezhnayan courts and fail to acquire what you had traveled all this way for? You could feel the pain ricocheting through your head, you could barely even think straight, much less come up with an answer. 

If you did accept, you finally forced your head back on track, what did they want in return? That was what you needed to know.

“What would you want in return?”

“We don’t know yet,” they said quietly but their tone was not hesitant--if anything, it was amused. Finally, they released you, taking a step back to watch you. The eyes staring down at you were empty, like looking into an abyss.

A dangerous, dangerous gamble. It gave them too much power.

“No, I want to know what you want in return.”

We. You suddenly recognized how they referred to themself--we, not I, they were not working alone. You felt all the more suffocated at the realization. 

“Then I guess we have no deal,” they said with a sigh, making a move to leave the room the two of you were in. Your heart leapt to your throat. “I cannot tell you what we do not know. Take the deal as is or fail, you will not succeed without help. You have no way of getting into Zapolyarny Palace. It is impenetrable.”

You should take that as a challenge, tell them fuck off and make them watch as you succeeded. Your blood boiled at the condescending tone and it took all of your willpower to not snap at them. 

This was not the time for pride. You had to abandon all vices and virtues if you were to get the evidence to condemn your stepfather, if you were to bring justice to your father… and if this person were to offer you the chance you desperately needed… then maybe it was worth whatever price they wanted you to pay in the long run. 

Committing injustices in the name of justice, the thought rang through your head loud. Wrio would love the irony. 

“You can get me into Zapolyarny?” you finally questioned, hiding the way your hands were shaking behind you as you sealed your fate. 

They hummed in agreement, “You will be on your own once you’re in there. Take care not to anger the wrong people… or draw too much attention to yourself.”

You could do that, you told yourself. Once you got in, you needed to find a place. Weasel your way in as an attendant so you could search for the evidence you needed. 

“Okay,” you finally agreed. The air suddenly felt heavy and oppressive, you thought that if you looked up, you would see the blade of a guillotine dropping on your neck. “Okay, we have a deal.”

You didn’t have to see their face to know that they were smiling, the voids staring down at you glimmered cruelly, you swore you saw red deep within the eyeholes of the mask.

“Welcome to the game, spadille.”

rbs appreciated!!

[danwhobrowses]

Critical Role C3 Ep 118 - Initial Thoughts

Well guys I maaaade it

It's 8am (well 9 now) and frosty in England and I had like, 1 hour light snoozing, I'm currently basking in the delusional energy being sleep deprived sustains until the inevitable crash but for now, an episode happened!

First of 2025, first I could watch in full thanks to PTO and willpower, shivering with nerves all day so let's cover the thoughts I remember at least (was staying as still as possible to avoid making noise for the others sleeping, so couldn't do the clickety clacks - and as you can tell by my use of 'clickety clacks' that my verbage may be as loopy as a rollercoaster at times)

Spoilers for the episode

Adorable abnormally named animals that looked more like a pupper and a gerbil, Bandit was true to his name

Oh geez more fucking monologuing, even Sam had the cup thing for it XD

Remember that fanart of Laudna, Orym and Ashton kicking Liliana after verbally dressing her down? Well that but this time with Ludinus, loved the pressing

Got some mini Ludie backstory and it was 'my family died as collateral in the Calamity', it's so hilariously basic at this point he deserved every bit of Ashton's 'get the fuck over it'

Part of me also couldn't help but think of Istho, the reluctant to die Paladin of the Lawbearer imprisoned at the Bloody Bridge literally a year ago, they had the same mantra

Would've been cooler to get a bit more Lawbearer sauce before in this campaign but fairs enough

Fearne just wants to give everyone cupcakes and candy and treats being the vessel of the God Eater like winning the lottery and I love her for it

It's not lost on me as an Ashton fan that Ludie never asked them what they wanted. There's a gist yes of controlling your own fate but still, got a lil' under your skin didn't they?

Chet no, don't try to open the cascade of sigils!

HA! Poofed out of his second monologue

Braius don't call him, you're gonna call him aren't you?

FUCKING LYING WHORE CHEATER BITCH Azzy, how's the family?

Brennan is untouchable but Matt's Fucking Lying Whore Cheater Bitch Azzy M still gives me the feeling of 'you know all the right things to say but I can still hear your manipulation'

Family, Braius, is right here! I get he's been around longer but first it's 'chase away and I'll remain' now it's 'don't let it out', mixed messages

I probably would've laughed to death if Ludie got distracted by the toy, though I do wish it was an Intuit Charge

RAVENOUS VOID OFF THE FUCKING BAT?? I was literally looking at that spell a few days ago

The aoe and save was so fucking high too, and I could've sworn Ashton can't be moved in Titan form, and resists all but Force Damage

Oh shit the neck! The neck comes back around!

God the cast rolled so badly for so long, and he kept saving and using his resistance

Not the neck ladies, the body, da body!

PATE I LOVE YOU

Pate noooo!

IRAAAAAAA I LOVE YOU!

MISTERRRRRR! I LOVE YOU!!

ASHTOOOOOOOON I LOVE YOU! That is my motherfucking barbarian tank killing the concentration

OH MY FUCKING DAYS POWER WORD STUN IMOGEN I FUCKING LOVE YOU!

I was counting the damage, once you knew it was below 150 all it needed was the math

Bless Ashley for wanting to go big but couldn't because of aoe

It had to be Orym, IT HAD TO BE ORYM, how's that for resolve?

Ira laughing in Ludie's face was cathartic too

'I don't want to hurt anyone, or kill anyone' - SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE ASHTON HATERS IN THE BACK!

We were so fucking close though, so close to the 'we can't absorb it but it can't stay here' point, we could've had an option C like sending it to a Demiplane

Surprised me how much Laudna pushed for pro-Predathos, given Imogen's reluctance, and Orym just unable to argue it because it's been argued to death

Oh god is he not dead? Fuckery duck, Laudna you have that ghost tracking thing right?

'What did you do to me, I used to be fun' - you still are you just have mushrooms planned with Fearne for after

Imogen you talked a lot about being free to decide your fate and now you're literally walking towards what 'fate' planned out for you

We are LITERALLY approaching what Ludinus wants to do

Child's voice is a nope, like an absolute nope

Like a 'Guys did we not learn from the Dominox?' nope

Because GUYS DID WE NOT LEARN FROM THE DOMINOX??

Orym insight checked a God Eater, got a whisper, stepped between it and the Ruidusborns, and that was not a red flag??

The collective 'ohhhh' though

Like, I get hearing it out, trying to see if we've simply been misinformed, but the proof is kinda in the pudding and it is dessert time

It knocked Chet into a wall for opposing, that's a nope

Hey Matt don't you think the Primordials partly responsible for this cage would have some resonance with it since we're getting clips of Tengar and Orym's Wildmother vision for all to see?

Imogen and Fearne NO

Predathos the nice hot faun lady told you to wait

Fearne YES but IMOGEN NO!

Fearne Yes! ...right? Answer the question cliffhanger! RIGHT?

I mean she heard her, that's something, are we gonna have to give Imogen her first death in the campaign? Can that staff factor in at all?

Definitely peeved that Imogen went and pulled a Frodo right at the last moment, but like the One Ring in Mount Doom she is being lulled by Predathos muddying her instincts, so I can kinda see why she thought it the kindest option, also le drama I suppose, Laura Bailey had to put her own third wedding one-shot in jeopardy

I have to be at work next week and there's a likelihood that the worst ending happens and Ludinus didn't get his ancient elf ass handed to him permanently ;_; so the stage is different, the health and spell slots are lower, but the fear is the same and I can't stay up for it

Contrary to others though I do still want a happy ending, the Hells aren't bad or evil for what they were attempting; the intentions was still good it was just not right. Someone else would've come, if not Ludinus then someone else with the same plan, but this is why we should've discussed alternatives earlier, this is why a united goal is important and why the Arch Heart fucking up the plan with his visit rubbed me the wrong way

At least now the Hells are gonna be on the same page with Predathos, it's about saving your people - so, save your people

[euphoricfilter]

Devil That I Know: The Prologue

Pairing: Demon! Jungkook x Human! F. Reader

Genre: Fluff || Smut || Angst || Demon au || Non-Idol au || Yandere au || Reincarnation || Strangers to Lovers

Summary: It's a shame how refuge will become your downfall.

Word Count: 3.3k

Tags/ warnings: mentioned death/ murder, sacrifice, sexy demon jungkook who has 4 arms, jimin is just mean (for now), the start of the yandere and just taehyung being a cutie

Notes: she’s back! and better than ever, new and improved, my baby <3 even if you’ve read the old version of dtik, i recommend reading again!! there has been a few added elements + way better writing!

devil that i know masterlist || my other stuff

─── ･ ｡ﾟ��: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

[a little death]

[1859]

Death seemed to have found solace in your shadow. Slithering around your ankles and chewing up any unfortunate living being you came across; acting as a parasite, touch of your fingers sticky poison. The rawest form of hatred radiating off your skin into the world, a curse. 

A simple wish for the price of a life, and maybe this was the universe’s sick joke, that you’ll live to suffer while the rest of the world carries the burden of a small selfish wish.

Maybe death has found home in your sorrows, wretched sadness, anguish, ugly ugly emotions cradling you like a mother would her child. Truly pitiful comfort where anger is useless.

It must have been almost a year ago your misfortune had truly started, foolishly leaving a life you never wanted. Though you suppose you never really had a choice, this day was inevitable when you were the odd one out, a leech, a pitiful child– not that that mattered at all to the man who was the starting point of your resentment. 

A wish for a life that was solely your own. A wish you never thought had been too big of an ask, leaving fragile hope in the hands of fate, praying that the world would take pity on your wilted soul. 

Now, freedom was a day’s journey away. Coastline so close yet so far away, a new life, one you’d been dreaming of since young, slipping through your fingers like dry sand– every step forward, the sea pulling away until you’re chasing after sodden dreams, leaving you stranded at the shore. 

Life looked like a damp cell in a run-down village, barely holding on; dependent on trade, though only one other village thrives in this area, hours away– over the mountain. Trips far and few with the horses they have, produce barely worth a piece of gold. 

The true situation of the village should have become apparent at their panic of unexpected visitors. Accusations spat your way, your own life flashing before your eyes, only for your friend to bear the brunt of their temper. No one of them had thought to hear you out, their words like venom, because in their eyes you’d come to spy on their village, a lie that would ruin you. 

You weren’t like them; and so you’d become an easy target. 

Secrets locked behind closed doors, lies fed to those clueless of what really happened when the sun falls over the horizon and the world is shrouded in darkness. 

Corruption was everywhere, the world so unfair, where fickle human emotions consume those greedy enough to sell their souls for power, for something more, anything to get out of their awful little lives. 

If you told a lie long enough, if you yourself believed in it, then surely it must be true. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

You’d never expected your first encounter with death, you suppose no one really does. And in your months of solitude, locked up against your will, you’ve learnt you can’t change the past. No matter how many tears wet the dry ground, how much you scream, how much you pray to anyone listening, the past will forever be how it is and you can’t change that. 

Regret is an awful emotion, a million ‘what ifs’ consuming your mind. What if you and your friend had chosen the village over the mountain? What if you had never decided to leave? What if you had traveled alone?

If things had been different, minute details that could have changed the whole course of your life, then maybe your friend would still be alive. Maybe you’d have found the coast, hair windswept as you stand on the deck of the boat, life that of a bird; free. 

You could never see much out of the small window of your cell, rare that the sun would dare poke its head in to say hello, never there to kiss your cheeks red, or warm frozen toes.

The nights had started to get colder, the few seconds you got to see the outside world through the open door is enough for you to know the leaves had begun falling off the trees. Dusty path blanketed with reds and oranges, footsteps harder to hear on the few days you’re fed– never more than what’s left over from the village men. 

The second time death had chosen to lurk was when a crisis had become of the village. Their crops rotting, black mold greedy in the way it had chewed through their livestock. Animals sent from the gods, lay dead on the ground, useless when their harvest season was right around the corner. 

“An evil spirit has cursed the lands” 

You’d wondered how you’d escaped the clutches of death a second time. But your purpose had become apparent when you’d heard whispers of the demon that lived in the mountains. A ruler of this very land.

Rumors carried by the wind had told you that he’d become restless, that the townspeople needed a sacrifice to sate his growing rage. They couldn’t go a season without crops, and none of the men dared push their wives forward as the gift. 

And so you, had been the sacrifice. The true purpose of them keeping you locked up and alive, was to act as their gift for the one that lived in the mountains.

Human fear is often the scariest, compassion absolutely destroyed, empathy non-existent. 

That’s why you don’t find yourself begging when you’re woken up one morning, cold water a shock to the system. Adrenaline useless as it pumps through your veins. It doesn’t take long for you to grasp the reason one of the village boys had come to see you so early, the sun barely having woken herself. 

You cough, wiping your wet face with the backs of your hand. Eyebrows creased into a frown as your eyes flit over to the entrance of your cell. 

“Get up” 

He mustn't be much older than you, pretty lips turned down into a prominent frown that you have to will yourself not to scoff at. Because really if anyone should frown as though the world were against them, it should be you. 

You don’t move, a dangerous game you’d been playing since you’d first arrived in the village. Because if you acted as though you didn’t understand them, language not your own, then you’d keep a little bit of your freedom. Ignorance covered as misunderstandings; actions out of spite, simply accidents. 

The boy tuts, door to the cell creaking, almost yanked off it hinges as he strides towards you. He’s rough as he grabs onto your arms, pulling you up from the sorry excuse of a bed. You pull your arms from his grip, skin prickly with pure hatred. 

“Change into these” he shoves a pile of clothes into your arms, tattered underwear falling to the floor.

If you had any shame, maybe you’d be a little embarrassed as he turns around, arms crossed over his chest. Though it seemed that any lick of shame that dared plague your mind, was consumed by anger as you yank your clothes off—Wringing your wet hair out, rolling the bottoms of the pants up. 

You flinch at the sound of another voice, “Jimin, are you almost done?”

The village boy turns around, eyes raking over your body, “Almost” he calls back. 

You eye the open door as Jimin steps out of your cell, “Don’t even think about it” 

It’s uncomfortable how tight he ties the ropes, hands bound behind your back where one mean tug from Jimin could send you tumbling face first into the floor. 

And it’s infinitely more uncomfortable how the whole village seems to gather, the chief parading you down the split path of people like a prize as Jimin watches your back.

A gift sent from the heavens to save their village, to save their people. Ironic when months ago everyone had been cursing your existence, asking why they should keep you locked up, why you hadn’t died beside your friend. 

It takes almost a day to hike up the mountain on foot, they may have thought of you as their sacrificial savior, that didn’t mean they were willing to waste their resources on you. 

Sweat tickles the back of your neck, hair clinging to your skin uncomfortably. You’re tired. Moments away from your legs giving way, willing to let the sun melt your skin and bones until you become one with the earth. Summer sun still clinging onto the sky before the seasons truly change.

The world takes pity on you as you stumble over your own feet, almost headbutting Jimin’s back as he stops. Your heart is in your throat as reality sets in, the rumors of a demon true. It didn’t look like anyone lived here; picket fence damp, old in a way that bugs had chewed through the wood.

Your eyes settle on the sign that hangs from a tree branch– “Jeon”. 

Jimin grabs the thick rope of the bell, muscles in his arms flexing as he announces your arrival. 

The shred of hope that you held in your heart shatters when you hear the crunch of footsteps. Silhouette of a man wandering through the archway of trees behind the fence.

You think he looks more like an angel than a demon, hair a fluffy mess, almost cute in the way he almost trips over his sandals. He catches himself before he can fall, stopping in front of Jimin on the other side of the gate. 

He places a hand over his heart, taking his time in catching his breath– and you can see Jimin’s patience wearing thin, heel of his boot tapping against the grass. Face etched into a permanent scowl that you can only assume is your doing.

You wet your lips at the sound of the boy’s voice, deeper than you’d expected, “Hello, how may I help you?” 

Your eyes fixate on the mole sat at the tip of his nose. 

“Are you the demon that resides here?” Jimin tugs you forward, heavy hand falling on the back of your neck. 

“Oh–” the man’s eyes widen, running a hand through his hair, “No, he’s inside” 

You peek over his shoulder, path veiled by trees, dark abyss waiting beyond the rotted gate. A world that looked so far from your own, a little secret hidden between the trees.

Jimin hums, “Here” he pats your back, “A delivery from the village” 

You dig your heels further into the ground as Jimin’s fingertips trail over your back, silent warning to do whatever you’re told. Maybe a cruel little goodbye, because the both of you knew that you might not ever make it out of there alive.

He waves at you as he starts his descent down the mountain, sadistic little smile of his face.  

Now would be a good time to run, though you wouldn’t know where to go. You suppose anything would be better than this. Maybe if you begged nicely the demon would kill you painlessly; maybe listening to your cries of mercy. Granting you an easy death so you could finally rest. 

The demon’s friend slips through the fence, “Do you understand me? Are you okay?” 

You nod. So many words hanging on the tip of your tongue, though you don’t seem to know what to say first. 

“I’m Taehyung” he tells you, smile fragile as he moves to take a look at your bound wrists. “May I?” he asks, and you turn to give him better access to your back. 

“What’s your name?” 

You swallow, wetting your dry throat, “Y/n” 

“Jungkook is really nice, I’m sure he’ll let you stay for a while” 

It’s weird how even as the ropes make a dull thump against the damp ground, you don’t feel any more free than you had when you’d been bound. 

Opening the gate, Taehyung motions for you to step inside, letting you follow him down the path and into the open area. Your eyes wander over the courtyard, freshly fallen leaves the color of a sunset scattered across the grass. Stood through the archway of trees stands the heart of the house. 

Without knocking, Taehyung pulls the door open. Intricately crafted table sat in the middle of the room.

He sits at the table like royalty, posture that of a king– clothes that of a nobleman. He looked younger than Taehyung, book held by one hand ever so elegantly, really he could be mistaken for a royal if it weren’t for the inky black snake that peeks out of the sleeve of his shirt. 

You try not to linger on his extra pair of arms. Breath catching in your throat when they fold over his stomach. Entirely unhuman, something you’d never seen before.

His eyes flicker over your face, turning to Taehyung with his eyebrow raised. You flinch as he shuts his book, full attention now on you and his friend. 

“Who’s this?” 

You feel the embarrassment lick up your spine as he takes in the way you’re dressed, warm blush surely flushing your cheeks pink. Both of your lives so dramatically different. 

Taehyung clears his throat when you don’t say anything, “This is Y/n” 

“Does she understand us?” Jungkook asks, curious eyes meeting your own. Taehyung turns to you, nudging your shoulder with his elbow. 

“I do” and Jungkook hums, a little taken aback with how formal you’d come off. 

“Why are you here?” there’s no malice in his voice, simple curiosity. Something you hadn’t been expecting. And you wish he had just shouted, unexpected understanding strange when you had prepared for the worst. 

Taehyung grabs a pillow from under the table, fingertips barely grazing your back as he helps you sit opposite Jungkook. 

“I’ll make us some tea” Taehyung smiles. A whisper for him to stay stuck on the tip of your tongue as he wanders further into the back room leaving you alone with Jungkook. 

Your eyes stay trained in your lap, picking at your nails, fiddling with the hem of your shirt; really anything to keep you from having to look into Jungkook’s eyes. 

“I asked a question” he reminds you, “why are you here?” 

“I’m a sacrifice. A gift from the people in the village of the east” 

“A gift?” he urges, utterly enraptured by the mind of humans. 

“Their land had been cursed, or so they say” you meet his eyes, “this is an offering for you to save the land, to sate your anger. That’s all I know, no one ever spoke much around the cell they kept me in” 

“Cell?” his eyebrows raise, curious.

You hum, “It is nothing but rumors, but they say the king wanted people like myself dead, the chief had told his people I’d come to spy on them. That my life would be of use, so they let me live” 

“Is that so?” Jungkook falls back, holding himself up by his arms, “Taehyung hadn’t told me such rumors were going around” 

You open your mouth, a question that’s been playing on your mind since a child put to an abrupt stop when Taehyung wanders back into the room. Teacup and delicate little porcelain plates balanced on a wooden tray. 

“Thank you” your voice is barely above a whisper as your fingers delicatly take hold of the cup. 

“So–” Taehyung starts, taking a seat beside you, “are you staying with us?”

Your hand flies to your mouth, a lame attempt in covering a cough as your eyes meet Jungkook’s. 

“Please? I could always use the extra help” Taehyung continues, arm slung over your shoulder, “What do you think?” 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, head tilting in question. It’s strange how far you can get lost in someone’s eyes, how for some it’s ever so easy to nitpick seemingly insignificant changes in expression. Maybe it had been a self-defense mechanism, a means to survive, but you’d always felt you’d been good at knowing how people felt, knowing where to build a wall, draw a line, anything.

Jungkook was a strange being, how what lies beneath his gaze is unattable no matter how long you search.

Jungkook’s eyes gave no indication as to how he felt about you. Expression eerily neutral that even if you were to ask him how he felt, his tone would be of no help. Someone so in control of their body and mind, someone above that of natural human nature; and you suppose thats only fair considering he weren’t a mortal like you or Taehyung. 

“You guys do whatever you want” Jungkook picks up his book, touch gentle as he flips back to the page he’d left. 

You turn to Taehyung, “If it’s okay, then I don’t mind staying” because living a life secluded from the world, protected by the rotting gate at the end of the path, was a safer way to live than travelling alone with no place to call home.

And as long as Jungkook held no resentment towards you, letting you live a life of peace, even if only for a fleeting moment—then maybe you’d hold onto that last selfish little sliver of hope. 

Taehyung takes ahold of your hands, the prettiest smile gracing his face, “You must be exhausted. How about a bath? You’ll have to wear some of my clothes until I can make you some–” 

“Tae” Jungkook laughs, “Slow down, you’ll overwhelm her” 

Taehyung’s fingers intertwine with your own, tugging you to stand.

You turn back to Jungkook before Taehyung can drag you out of the room, “Thank you” you call out to him.

He waves you off, thumb running over his bottom lip, “It’s nothing” and really it wasn't, he already housed one human, what was one more? Not when like Taehyung, you’d been betrayed by your own kind.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Have you heard of any rumors circulating the village?” Jungkook asks his friend, Taehyung running a hand through his hair. Having left you to wash up and change before he would show you your new bedroom.

“Rumours?” Taehyung’s head tilts a little.

Jungkook hums, “About the king” 

“None” he shakes his head, “Only whispers about bandits raiding the outskirts of the capital” 

“Nothing about any spies?” 

Taehyung’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, back straightening slightly as he gazes down at Jungkook. “Is this about Y/n?” 

Jungkook sighs, “Something’s happening in the east, don’t go there from now on” 

Taehyung nods, “I’ll keep an eye on her, just in case” 

“I doubt there’s a need. The two of you are quite similar” Jungkook hums, “Just make sure she’s comfortable, that’s all I ask” 

“And you?” 

Jungkook pushes himself to stand, “Nothing much will change around here” 

Taehyung’s role in Jungkook’s life hadn’t been a coincidence. And as much as it felt like Jungkook was the one helping Taehyung, demons were a little more selfish than that. Sure, Jungkook gave Tae a second chance at life, but that was only because he wanted something from him. It all worked out in the end, Jungkook made his first friend and Taehyung lived comfortable. 

You, however, Jungkook hadn’t seeked you out. You were handed to him by the graces of hell, destiny walking you up this mountain. Adorably strong-willed, though perhaps too trusting of the very being that could bring you to your downfall.

Jungkook was anything but a saviour, everything he ever did was only to with his own wellbeing in mind. But you, you were the one thing that he hadn’t planned. An anomaly thrusted in his face, how could he turn away his gift from the world?

Your desire for freedom was endearing, the human will to live something Jungkook found utterly intriguing when all the world seemed to do was fuck you over. Naïve hope disguised by a hard exterior, pitiful in the way the world had rejected your mere existence. Something Jungkook was more willing to use, arms curling around your fragile existence.

Because as much as you thought of him as your refuge, he knew that he would become your downfall.

[devieuls]

ˋ Let me Love you༄ ✵

Neteyam Sully x Na'vi Fem Reader < SERIES >

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Dom Neteyam x Fem Na'vi Reader.

SMUT: Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; fingering; Blood; Spit; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; betrayal; slut shaming; oral sex; dacryphilia; outdoorsex; jealousy BDSM.

ANGST: mention of suicide, toxic relationship, words inherent in death, sexual assault, self-harm, derealization, suffering, Requited / Unrequited love, prejudices, bullying and insults. and FLUFF. There will be flashbacks in this series

Aged characters: Neteyam 22 y.o / You 19 y.o.

Synopsis: In the darkest point of your life, swallowed by the abyss, you decide to put an end to your sufferings, seeking relief in the extreme act. Your life was an intricate dance between life and death, and when life decided to take leave and leave death alone in you, you got lost. And as if he had been sent by Eywa himself, a mysterious Na'vi, saves you from hitting bottom, sacrificing himself so you don’t give up. Becoming the light that shone in your darkness. He is the sun that faces your night, and you are the Moon, eternally distant from him.

He grabbed your hand and dragged you away, taking you to his village, a place of healing and hope where he will try to make you love life again, showing you the light you had long lost. Starting a journey of healing, to fight against your demons that tormented you relentlessly, to finally find happiness where you would never have bothered to find it.

Two fates crossed under the tacit protection of the Great Mother, to show that even two opposites can create something perfectly chaotic.

And what happens when night and day dance together, to the rhythm of the stars and waves of balance, eternal opposites that are inevitably attracted?

This is the story of how death falls in love with life; how the sun one day decided to save the moon and how darkness is not so dark if light can penetrate. But also a story of suffering and torment, where not everything is roses and flowers.

CHAPTER WARNING: Mention suicide and attempted suicide.

Lenght : 4k

NA'VI WORDS: Yawne: Beloved; Tanhì: Bioluminescent freckles; Tspangoe: I invented this, it means "Suicidal". It comes from "Tspang": Kill and "Oe": I/Me. I couldn’t find a word that came close, so I made it up.

TW: THE SERIES WILL BE FULL OF DELICATE TOPICS!

⇠ Previous chapter ✵ Next Chapter ⇢

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

Chapter I: The Fall

In the heart of the dense forest, wrapped in a blanket of skeletal trees seemed to dangle for you as silent witnesses of a long time ago. The icy wind hissed among the thick branches, bringing with it a suffocated lament, as if nature itself was crying an irreparable loss. It was a place of tormented beauty, a refuge for your restless soul, where nature itself seemed to express its pain in silence. In the melancholy yet fascinating atmosphere, the waterfall stood as a symbol of battered hope, offering a fleeting comfort to spirits like you in search of consolation. It was in this desolation of yours that the waterfall was heard. Not a joyful or luxuriant sound, but a sore groan hovering in the air. The incessant flow of water was a constant sound that pervaded the atmosphere, offering a grim melody among its tumultuous waves, as if it carried with it the weight of your hidden pains. Its waters rushed from the cliff with an unstoppable force, forming a veil of water that dispersed in a light fog. The reflections of the suns sprinkled silvery sparks in the air, creating an ephemeral rainbow between the shimmering silver drops.

As the dying rays of the suns seeped through the fronds of the trees, tinging the landscape with a purple light, you sat on the edge of the majestic waterfall, your feet dangling above the cliff. An aura of sadness was reflected in your gaze, an invisible weight that seemed to have borne too much for your young age.

The rustle of the branches danced among the trees, accompanied by an orchestra of voices hidden among the trees. The howls of the waking nocturnal animals, the chirping of the birds mingling with the croaking of the crows and screeching of the Ikrans who dared peer into the oncoming darkness. The rustle of the leaves, moved by an invisible wind, creates a constant background that amplifies the mysterious aura. The scents of the forest mixed in the air, with the smell of moss, damp earth and wildless flowers.

You sat in silence, with your eyes fixed between the abyss below and the eclipse that colored your face with warm shades, with your heart broken and your soul in pieces. The weight of pain and despair was felt in every fiber of your being, as the pounding sound of water flowing downwards amplified the preparatory atmosphere that had been created around you by you. You were able to welcome the beauty of the majestic trees that stood on the horizon, small flowers dancing free in the wind that seemed to evoke happy and serene memories, creating a poignant contrast with your suffering.

You squinted as you took a deep breath. Hands flickering as you began to undress each piece of jewelry that represented your status and your belonging, removing piece by piece, gently laying them on the ground. You caressed them as you remember they surfaced in your mind with pain, remembering your story and the events you had experienced to get every single cherished jewel that now lay on the ground. You separated with pain, not wanting to dirty the precious memories and the sacredness of each bead with your gesture. It was as if I wanted to get rid of everything that made you, "you", looking for a way to atone for the pain.

While contemplating the last lights of the day, you quietly hum your songcord, creating a sad lament, before separating it forever, tying it to a thread of faded era that would be the final 'bead'.

"Oh Great Mother, forgive me… but my battle is over… I can’t stand this anymore" praying that the Great Mother would forgive you and welcome you into her warm arms.

Loneliness. You felt alone in that forest, as the cold, wet wind collided with your warm skin, as if Eywa was saying to you, "You are heard, child. Step back forward, because your life is not complete". When you felt pretty confident about the blessing that the Great Mother was telling you, a rustle behind you made your ears stand up but you didn’t turn, anyone or whatever it was you didn’t care, because it could never hurt you more than you were about to.Neteyam walked through the forest as he returned to his village with some venison he had just finished hunting, only to be distracted by a lament from where he knew the waterfall was. The sound of flowing water guides him in the right direction and suddenly he sees your lonely figure on the edge of the precipice. A sense of anguish pervaded him when he realized your tragic intentions, noting the jewels placed on the ground.

He carefully removed the bow and arrows from his back, laying them on the ground with the venison and then slowly approaching, but with determination to do everything possible to save you. He sat next to you, looking at the horizon, respecting the personal space you needed but conveying a sense of closeness. Your eyes met his figure, not understanding why a stranger would sit beside you at a time like this. He opened his mouth suddenly, taking a long breath.

"See those two birds right there" The boy’s words were soft and reassuring, trying to break the wall you were building to separate yourself from the world before performing the act we express. "hmhm" you mumbled in response, watching the birds dancing one last time in the purple sky. "Eywa takes care of them every day… If the Great Mother takes care of them, imagine how she takes care of us who are more fragile" you lowered your gaze to the river below, reflecting the words that the mysterious Na'vi was giving you. "The Great Mother knows your needs, look for her now…" he whispered, reassuring you as his words mingled with the melody of the falling water, turning his face towards yours.

"Maybe it’s because it’s what I want." You hissed and then looked him in the eye. Your face was tired, just like your eyes, sad, dull and devoid of spirit, bringing with them a deep sense of total abandonment. The eyes of someone who has gone through immeasurable pain and who has lost all hope of finding a way out of suffering. The irises, once full of life and lively, are now devoid of any spark of emotion. They are an abyss in which all joy and happiness is drowned. There is no more light shining through them, only a dark and impenetrable desolation. Heavy, drooping eyelids tell the story of a tired, exhausted soul. They seemed ready to give in under the unbearable weight. There is no life, there is no light, only deep apathy. One can see the total lack of interest in everything around them, as if I had become a stranger to the world.

Your gaze aroused a sense of compassion in Neteyam. It almost seemed like a call to extend his hand to offer you support, because behind that desolation, there was still a soul struggling feebly to keep going.

"It’s not what you want, it’s what you think you want. I don’t know you, but I know you mean something to someone, and I know that someone would suffer for it. Do it for them… live for them, please." His eyes were light, hope, life. His kind and comforting words that for a second you thought he was even the Great Mother herself. Slowly, patiently and gently, Neteyam tried to open a breach in the armor you were wearing, hoping to make you desist.

"Why live for someone if I don’t even want to live for myself? Just…Go away." You answered with bitterness while you carried again the look under you, contemplating the abyss and the peace that you would have tried. You just didn’t want to feel this way anymore, to be free. "I have no one. I mean nothing to anyone. Whether I disappear or not no one will cry for me. You don’t know who I am, so I won’t be a burden to you… Please-" your voice broke at that moment, as two tears cut your face. "Just let me do this…"

Neteyam looked at you, silently swallowing, realizing your pain, doing it as he watched you fall apart in front of him. He had never seen a Na'vi attempt suicide, and the lost look in your eyes frightened him. &lt;; Nobody?… She has no one > this was what rang in his mind as he searched for the right words.

"You have Eywa… The Great Mother loves all her children and I know she doesn’t want to take you right now… You are not alone and she will not allow you to be alone, if so." He reached out his hand towards you. " Take my hand, please" his voice died in his throat, his hopeful gaze waiting for you to change your mind.

Your vulnerability was exposed, for the defenses you built were shaken by his words. Maybe for the first time in a long time, you felt comforted, even for a moment. Your heart was lighter in a moment of suspension. You still felt a thin veil of fear to do that act, but relief and warmth, anger to be alone. You decided to leave the precipice, not only physically, but also mentally and emotionally, while a faint flame of hope began to burn in you. Too bad it wasn’t the right flame.

You looked at his outstretched hand, making your amber eyes so different for the last time. Its full of life and yours turned off, the sun and the moon looking at each other, life and death meeting. You pulled up with your nose as one last tear tore through your face for the last time. One last breath and swallowed. "I can’t… I can’t be saved" The bitterness in your voice destabilized Neteyam, only to leave him wide-eyed when you dropped to the side, following the waterfall water.

"No!" He screamed as his arms instinctively extended towards you, desperately trying to grab your freefalling body, but all he could touch was the void. The air passed through his fingers and hands, as if it were an insurmountable force that prevented him from reaching you.

At that moment, he felt a feeling of helplessness and frustration that crept into his soul, leaving a sense of guilt and remorse. Every muscle in his body screams for failing to save your life. As you disappeared from his sight, Neteyam was overwhelmed by an emotional storm. Everything around him seemed to slow down. The sounds faded and the reality turned away, as if he were in a nightmare from which he could not wake up. His body trembles in front of the immensity of the situation. Managing to react to a delayed burst.

You had found peace by falling, a harmony that you had not felt for a long time, as if you had discovered the secret to facing that darkness that had reached its climax in you. The scars of the battle opened slightly, turning into signs of courage. The cold air and drops of water gently caressed your exhausted body, bringing with it the pungent smell of freedom. Your eyes, which had wept far too many tears, were now closed and full of serenity, knowing that you would escape from that hell.

Gravity pulled you down with the same unstoppable force with which water fell from the waterfall. But there was no fear in your heart, only the realization that the fall was an inevitable conclusion of everything you had experienced, the point that would make you start over. You felt at peace, finally free to leave everything behind you tormented. In the fall, your face relaxed and a smile crossed your face. Not a smile of unbridled joy, but rather a kind of resignation and contentment. It was as if you knew that even in the darkness of the fall, your spirit could finally shine. The water wrapped you in a warm embrace, giving you that sense of comfort before the impact, washing away your melancholy, leaving you free from the weight, happy.

Neteyam didn’t hesitate an extra second to follow you, taking the right precautions before the launch so that he wouldn’t faint from impact, jumping as he quickly spotted where your body might end up once in the water.

Your unarmed body descended below the surface without too much hesitation, blocking you down because of the strong currents. You were unconscious right after the impact, but in your mind you were just waiting to be taken away by the Great Mother’s hand, leaving your body aching.

Neteyam immediately after the impact with the water sought you with panic in the eyes, swimming with open eyes to look for your body, hoping to find you in time before the current took you away and marked your end. After a few minutes he found you and had to fight against the violent currents and your body heavier because of the water to lift you and carry you up, while the seconds passed and his lungs screamed to breathe, trying to stay lucid for you. He managed to drag you out of the water with difficulty, gently laying you on the shore, while he watered the air he needed, begging the Great Mother not to take you, while he placed you back on the grass, by slightly tilting your head back and lifting your chin to open the airways. His hands began to tremble when he placed them in the center of your chest, just above the breastbone, comprehending the chest with the rhythm that his father had taught him to do. He alternated compressions with mouth-to-mouth ventilation. "Oh Great Mother, no... please… please, Great Mother" he whispered as he proceeded with the cpr, pulling a breath of relief when you started spitting water spasmodically, grateful that at least your body was reacting to stay alive.

"Stay with me, please. Stay with me, stay with me…" he said desperately as he called his Ikran. When the banshee arrived, he took the shawl that he used when riding and it was cold, covering your shaky and wet body, not thinking that he too would get cold because of the speed with which he would ride to take you to his village as soon as possible. He held you in his arms, making you lay your face on his chest as he held you from his waist with one arm, leaving promptly. Your tanhì were barely visible, and this made him worry to say the least, he did not know you but he wanted to save you, he had to do it. He felt he had to save your life, give you a second chance to try to be happy and at peace, for fighting your demons.

When he arrived at the village, he rushed into the marui of Tsahìk, easily making his way among the na'vi of the clan. When he found his grandmother, he looked at her pleadingly and panicked, leaving you lying on the carpet that Tsahìk used as a bed for patients.

"What happened to this girl?" she asked as she inspected your body, trying to figure out where to start treating you. Neteyam looked at her swallowing as he breathed fast and passed his hands between the braids.

"She… she fell. She drank a lot of water, ther because… s-she. she fainted, she fell from the waterfall…and I-" He tried to explain as he went off the deep end and Mo'at nodded, then invited him out while she undressed you for more room to work.

Neteyam shivered because of the still wet body and the wind hitting his blue skin, while he was still in shock about what he had seen, not expecting you to really jump. He began to walk nervously out of the healing hut, worried about you and your health, while his nerves drove him around in despair.

After about an hour Mo'at came out of the marui, wrapping his nephew in a warm blanket, worried that he too would get sick.

"She’s gonna be okay, right? She’s okay? She-" asked anxiously as his palms wrapped around his grandmother’s elbows, praying that you were well and that she had managed to save you. Mo'at’s eyes lowered slightly and then sighed, realizing Neteyam’s concern, though not understanding why he was so worried about a stranger.

"She… will survive" she replied, not giving a clear answer, though that 'will survive' gave Neteyam enormous relief, thanking Eywa for allowing him to save you. "but she can’t wake up yet. She’s lost a lot of blood inside of her, and she hit her head, pressure knocked her unconscious on impact. She’s lucky she didn’t break bones or ruin her organs…" She continued and then noticed a slight tension in Neteyam, always remaining happy that you were well despite that problem.

"You said she’ll be fine, so she’ll be fine" he said, convincing himself more than his grandmother, who looked at him sighing.

"I feel that her spirit does not want to stay here… she is… tspangoe?" Mo'at’s voice became darker as she asked, waiting for the reply of her nephew who soon arrived when he let her go and looked away.

"She is a Na'vi. Like you and me. Nothing else" He said seriously, growling slightly as he avoided answering the question, as if he was annoyed that his grandmother had just labeled you that way. He squeezed into the blanket and left, leaving his grandmother alone after thanking her for helping you.

The days began to flow while you gave no sign of waking up. Neteyam would stay in the tent for hours, visiting you at least twice a day, making sure you were properly washed and fed, feeding you himself when Mo'at gave it to him. He allowed himself several times to observe your face, noticing how your tanhì were almost extinguished and your feeble breaths, your body still had small wounds and bruises caused by the water and the rough stones you had met underwater. He hoped to see your eyes, even though he knew you would curse the fact that he saved you, but he knew that a tiny little part of you, well hidden, wished to be saved.

"A girl so young that she tries to take her own life… that’s a shame," Mo'at said as she entered her marui, making room behind his nephew to take some herbs to grind and use on your body. Neteyam sighed heavily and then looked at his grandmother.

"Grandmother, I beg you, stop it. You don’t even know her reasons." he said, looking at what she was grinding in the bowl made of smooth rock.

In the Na'vi culture, suicide was considered one of the greatest sins and completely harmful to one’s spiritual journey, as for them life is a precious gift of Eywa, and only she had the right to determine when to end. The Great Mother was a benevolent deity, who loved her children unconditionally, longing for their good and loving them so much that they reincarnated their pure soul cyclically. Take your own life was considered an insult to this blessing, ruining the purity of your soul, risking not being able to return to a new life. So your gesture led you to be looked down on by the spiritual leader of the Omatikaya clan, not understanding why a Na'vi should take her own life and disrespect life in this way.

"The tspangoe" began her, only to be interrupted by Neteyam "Don’t call her like that." She cleared her voice and then started talking again. "she cannot have 'reasons' to do such a thing. The Great Mother has given us life, who are we to throw it away like garbage?" her tone was bittersweet while she was grinding herbs with some natural liquids, not looking at her nephew.

"Nine eclipses have passed by now, and she sleeps. If she doesn’t want to wake up, she can just let go. She’s tried that before, hasn’t she? So why not just leave? In this way, perhaps, my partner will return to give attention to me and not to an Tspangoe" The sour voice of a woman made her way as she made her entrance, watching Neteyam and Mo'at.

"Tsu'län, please don’t start." Neteyam replied harshly as he sighed, looking at the Tsakarem of the clan.

"Nine eclipses, ma yawne. Nine eclipses that spend more time with this Tspangoe and not with your future mate. It is not normal, it is not healthy for our relationship or for the image we will give to the clan." She hissed, only to make Neteyam growl and look into her eyes with annoyance.

"Ma Tsu'län, you should be happy that your partner is a man who worries, as much as I don’t even like him being with her." Mo'at spoke, then sighed, feeling the tension between her nephew and his promise.

"Not an eclipse more. Any woman would be angry about this, especially if her partner is the future Olo'eyktan and prefers to be with a Tspangoe. It’s humiliating." Shee snorted at him, being ignored by Neteyam who was too respectful of the opposite sex to respond to her as he wished.

He looked at your face, noticing how your Tanhì were slowly coming to life, smiling spontaneously as Tsu'län’s voice went deaf before disappearing.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes II:

Theoretically I should have started "Starboy" series because it’s more summer and """soft""", but I’ve been thinking for days about scenarios for this series and so I decided to bring this first.

I know that this is quite a demanding series but I would like to talk about these delicate but necessary yhemes. I don’t know how many chapters it will have, but I know it’s potentially going to be my trojan horse, because I’m inspired.

I swear it won’t just be Angst, there will also be a good part of Smut and Fluff, and I will forward them in a way that in my mind is spectacular. I hope you enjoyed reading <3

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　���.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

TAG LIST : @riatesullironalite @shadowmoonlight0604

[chloe-caulfield94]

The theme of suicide in Life is Strange S1

Suicide is a prominent theme in Season 1. And its depiction doesn’t end with Kate’s ordeal in Episode 2. I’d argue it’s just the first salvo and this theme continues to be explored in later episodes as well. After Episode 2, Max encounters another character going through a suicide crisis. That character of course is Chloe.

In Episode 4, when Max is in the alternate timeline, Chloe, who is paralyzed from the neck down and terminally ill asks to be put out of her misery. Max has the option to do so, by overdosing Chloe with painkillers, or refuse to do that and promise Chloe never to leave her again instead.

What Chloe asks for is assisted suicide. She doesn’t want to live anymore, but since she is unable to take her own life, she asks Max to perform the deed.

But that’s not the last time Max has to deal with someone experiencing a suicide crisis. Because Chloe experiences such a crisis twice.

What Chloe asks for in Episode 5 at the cliff is once again assisted suicide. She loses the will to go on. She gives up on herself. But once again she is unable to take her own life. In Episode 4 she couldn’t take the deadly dose of painkillers on her own, because of her paralysis. And in Episode 5 killing her would require using a magical photograph as the murder weapon, which only Max is able to do. So Chloe is once again reduced to begging Max to kill her, as she is unable to do it herself.

Look at the incredible similarities between the two scenes I mentioned. Both Max’s and Chloe’s dialogue is eerily similar in both instances. Some phrases are repeated almost verbatim. First Chloe makes the shocking ask. Then Max reacts with disbelief and says she would never be able to do such a thing. But then Chloe keeps arguing in favour of her own death. She says that her demise is inevitable and close at hand, so it might as well be Max who kills her. And in the end it’s up to the player to decide if Max’s resolve remains strong, or if she is now able to do something that the mere mention of shocked her moments ago.

Alt Chloe: “I want this time with you to be my last memory”.

Chloe: “All those moments between us were real!”

Alt Chloe: “All you have to do, is crank up the IV to 11”.

Chloe: “All that would take is for me to …”

Max (E4): “I can’t kill you!”

Max (E5): “I can’t make this choice!”

Alt Chloe: “I know I’m just putting off the inevitable”.

Chloe: “I think I should accept my fate”.

Max (E4): “I had another friend, who wanted to end it all and I did everything I could to try and save her life. How can I be responsible for ending yours?”

Max (E5): “Don’t say that! I won’t trade you!”

Max (E5): “Fuck that! No, no way! You are my number one priority now! You are all that matters to me!”

Alt Chloe: “Don’t forget about me”.

Chloe: “Don’t you forget about me!”

Alt Chloe: “I love you, Max”.

Chloe: “I’ll always love you!”

Chloe’s motivation is essentially the same in both cases. It’s a mixture of hopelessness and guilt. Hopelessness manifesting as a belief that her life could not be made better in any way. And guilt that her continued existence was supposedly hurting others, but her death would benefit them.

In Episode 4, her hopelessness stems from the conviction that whatever time she has left to live, she’ll be forced to spend it alone. That Max wouldn’t want to spend any more time with her. If Max refuses to overdose her, Chloe says “You’re just bailing on me, like everyone else”.

Max: “I’m going to help you. But not like that. You have to believe me, Chloe!”

Alt Chloe: “Why, Max? You’re just bailing on me, like everybody else”.

Max: “I am never leaving you again”.

Chloe is so used to being neglected that she instinctively assumes that Max popped back into her life just for a minute. She doesn’t even consider the possibility that Max could stay with her, give her company and comfort in the days still left. We don’t know how long Chloe had left to live in the alternate timeline. Maybe a few years? Maybe a few months? But however long or short period of time that would be, I feel it would be wrong to say that there couldn’t be any moments of joy, happiness and friendship in it. Especially if her best friend decided to spend those days with her. Chloe, in her hopelessness, couldn’t even dream of such a possibility. Of such a positive turn in her life. She thought only loneliness and despair awaited her in her final days. So why not speed things up?

And Chloe’s guilt stemmed from the emotional and financial hardship her parents had to endure due to her illness. Even though her parents loved her and wanted to fight for their daughter every step of the way, Chloe mistakenly thought they would be better off with her dead.

Alt Chloe: “My parents suffer along”.

Hopelessness and guilt fuelled Chloe’s suicide crisis in Episode 5 too. Guilt that the Storm looming over the town was inexplicably caused by Max saving her life. Guilt that pushed her to believe that she didn’t deserve to live if the cost of her survival was the town’s destruction and her best friend having to live with such a heavy burden for the rest of her days.

Chloe: “There’s so many more people in Arcadia Bay who should live. Way more than me!”

Max: “Don’t say that!”

And hopelessness, once again manifesting in the belief that Max would never want to be a part of Chloe’s life, not after all the hardships she had to endure to save her.

Chloe: “Nobody, especially you should have to go through that”.

Chloe: “I don’t blame you for wanting me out of your life”.

She assumed that she was about to be abandoned, again, for a final time, to die alone and afraid. The girl who was left behind so many times didn’t dare to dream that this time someone would choose to stay. To wait out the storm with her.

Notice that Kate was driven to a suicide attempt by a very similar combination of hopelessness and guilt. Kate thought she would forever remain branded as a drunken embarrassment, her supposed crime endlessly echoing in the hateful void of the Internet.

Kate: “I’m already on the Internet forever. No wonder they call it a web. Nothing can ever get out. Like my video”.

And she thought her sinful existence was causing grief to her dear father, who would be better off with her dead, the stain on his honour removed.

Kate: “Dad does care. Even though I hurt him”.

In both instances, should Max decide to end Chloe’s life, her last desperate plea is not to forget about her.

Chloe saw no way for her life to improve. If she couldn’t have a life filled with joy and friendship, she at least wished to become someone’s happy memory. But memories are never good enough. In time, they fade. Or worse yet, they sour.

“That impossible anger strangling the grief, until the memory of your loved ones is just poison in your veins. And one day, you catch yourself wishing the person you loved had never existed, so you’d be spared your pain”.

Max would have responded to Chloe’s dying wish with “never”. But can you honestly imagine Max nurturing the memory of the erased friendship that never was for the next seventy years of her life? The memory of a friendship discarded, nipped in the bud in the service of something supposedly greater? Max would hate herself for lacking the courage to stand by her “number one priority”. And in time, she would hate Chloe for making her feel that way.

Would Joyce find the strength to nurture the memory of Chloe? The woman who was so unable to deal with the death of her husband that she had to hide away all his photographs would now be able to keep the memory of her murdered daughter? Chloe’s pictures would join those of William in the closet. Reunited at last.

Chloe: “Wherever I end up after this, in whatever reality, all those moments between us were real!”

“Wherever I end up after this, in whatever reality” is actually nowhere. It’s the dark tunnel of a pistol barrel, suddenly illuminated by a flash of burning light. And then blood pooling on the white floor tiles, like in a slaughterhouse.

With Kate’s suicide attempt, the situation is clear. Max tries to help her the best she can. There’s no option to let her jump. Whether Max succeeds or fails in talking Kate down from the roof is a separate matter, but she always does her best to save Kate’s life. Because that’s what should be done when encountering a person experiencing a suicide crisis. Because Kate’s hopelessness and guilt were not valid reasons for her to kill herself. Because her life could’ve been improved and she had no reason to feel guilty.

With Chloe’s request in the alternate timeline it’s not as clear cut. I believe her life could’ve been improved if Max decided to accompany Chloe in her last days. And Chloe had no reason to feel guilty, because it was William’s and Joyce’s decision if they wanted to share the burden that was so unfairly thrusted upon their daughter. And they decided to share it. Ultimately, the decision to honour Chloe’s request or to refuse to do so largely rests on the way the player sees her condition. We are not given any specifics, so we are forced to speculate. The way I saw it, while Chloe’s condition in the alternate timeline was terminal, she most likely had a few years left to live. A few months at the very least. Her condition caused her a lot of physical discomfort, with recurring migraines, but she didn’t seem to be in constant pain that needed to be stopped. Playing Episode 4, I couldn’t escape the feeling that Chloe’s pain was more emotional than physical in nature. How happy she was to have spent one day with her best friend. Wasn’t her feeling of hopelessness, which made her wish for death, a product of being abandoned, at least in part? Wouldn’t she be more willing to stay for whatever time she had left if she had someone to share that time with?

But I acknowledge that we could also speculate about Chloe’s condition in the alternate timeline in a much less optimistic manner. If a person’s illness reduces their life experience to constant pain, precluding them from enjoying anything positive, even the love of their family and friends, then ending their misery seems to be the right thing to do. If we assume that was the case with Chloe in the alternate timeline, then a convincing argument might be made in favour of honouring her request.

But that ambiguity is absent when Chloe presents Max with the choice to kill her on Friday at the cliff. Chloe’s life is no longer in danger. She is safe. And if her best friend chooses to stay in her life, it could change for the better. She could gain a second chance at life. And Season 2 established that this is exactly what happens if you choose to save Chloe’s life.

I find it incredibly difficult to perceive Chloe’s self-flagellating “I don't deserve to live” speech in Episode 5 as anything other than suicidal ideation. I think her offer to be sacrificed was mostly a result of her depression and feelings of low self-esteem and hopelessness. Once she saw that her death could prevent the Storm and save Max from her guilt, it pushed her over the edge.

It would be deeply wrong for Max to take Chloe up on her offer. It would be no different than letting Kate jump, just because she wanted to when she was on the roof.

In Season 1 Chloe is depressed and I mean in the medical sense. Max can find prescription antidepressants in Chloe’s bathroom. Sweet innocent Max, not knowing what Fluoxetine is, comments the find with “Chloe is taking medicine? I hope she’s okay”, as if those were vitamins, but it’s actually a potent antidepressant.

Chloe most likely had suicidal thoughts prior to meeting Rachel. I don't know how else you can explain her standing in front of speeding trains. And she said Rachel had “saved” her, which implies she would've done something very bad hadn’t it been for her friendship with Rachel. The thoughts came back after Rachel’s disappearance. In Chloe’s hideout at the junkyard, Max can find a scribbled note which says “I want to die”. Max wonders aloud who wrote this, but at that point, Chloe has been the only one using the hideout for months. And the handwriting matches the graffiti on the walls of Chloe’s room and in her truck, as well as her “Chloe was here” signature in the junkyard.

Chloe tragically lost her father. Her mother moved on way too quickly, hiding her late husband’s photographs and refusing to acknowledge Chloe’s grief. Her only friend left and cut contact. She was bullied at school for being a “scholarship kid” from a poor family.

Max (Farewell): “What do you mean she wouldn’t leave you alone?”

Chloe (Farewell): “She was making fun of my clothes and calling me a scholarship kid”.

Rachel promised her a life together but then decided to skip town with someone else. Her stepfather made her feel worthless.

David: “For your own good, you should stay away from Chloe. She’s a loser and she’ll only drag you down”.

Can you even imagine hearing from your own parent that you’re a loser and that others should stay away from you, because you would only drag them down?

Frank hooked her up on drugs when she was sixteen if not younger. When she couldn’t pay her debt he exploited her as an accomplice to his crimes and then started threatening to cut her.

Frank: “You want me to cut you, bitch?”

Max: “Holy shit balls! Frank is scary. I should’ve let Chloe take that money!”

Nathan slipped her date rape drugs and attempted to assault her, which she barely avoided. And then, in the span of four days, she was almost killed multiple times and she found Rachel’s decayed corpse. I don’t think it’s far-fetched to argue that when a teenager who experienced all that says they want to be “sacrificed”, they should be provided with immediate care, because they are most likely in the midst of a suicide crisis. Someone who went through all that cannot make a fully informed, conscious decision to be “sacrificed”.

If Max fought tooth and nail to save Kate, who was driven to suicide by all the bad things that happened to her, wouldn’t she do the same for Chloe?

There’s no context in which letting a depressed teenager kill themselves is not an act of disgusting evil. This is something a comic book villain wouldn’t do, because that would be going too far.

Shouldn’t a game with such a strong theme of hopelessness and desperation leading to suicide end with the main character preventing suicide, not assisting in one? And given the theme of finding one’s confidence and learning to move on, wouldn’t it be much more fitting if the game ended with the main character restoring hope for a better tomorrow to someone who lost it, showing them the past has no power over them? Instead of crushing the last remains of their hope and pushing them back into the quagmire of the past, to their death?

[simp-ly-writes]

To New Adventures with Old Friends

Can be read as a standalone: What is Left by the Lakeside (pt.4)

Pairing: God!Gale Dekarios x Sorcerer!Reader & Tara

Summary: While Gale awaits your decision to ascend or not, you need space in order to make a clear decision on your future so yet another adventure awaits you with some familiar faces alongside a new one waiting to join the story.

Warnings: mentions of sadness and regret, teasing.

A/N: the story that just keeps on giving, thank you so much to the anonymous reader who gave me the idea for this and the next chapter!

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

“I am going to need more than a few moments in deciding these life changing decisions, Gale Dekarios. And I am going to need that space in order to make a clear decision, you will know when I summon you for my answer, not a minute sooner or later- that I can promise,” you tell the God of Ambition, speaking over him while squeezing his hand- trying to convey your sincerity. 

Gale looks at you closely, his eyes glowing softly as he takes in your words. The room becomes that bit dimmer as he closes his eyes, taking a breath in and out deeply before he responds, “I understand, my love....” his voice trails off, words becoming stuck in his throat as he drops your hands and stands up.

“...The time I can comprehend, the space I cannot-”

“Then you should have thought of that before leaving me here on this “mortal plane” you speak of,” you retort back before quickly walking yourself out of the room and giving the guard a small smile on your way out. They bow to you- watching you scurry down the hall in search of your belonging with a locating spell. 

Gale stands still where you left him in the study. He observes the spot where you sat closely, a part of him still imagining that you are there with him- overjoyed to join him but alas that projection is not the truth as he ushers over the guard with a flick of his wrist once more before returning back to his realm. 

--

You rip the purple gown from yourself, throwing it back in the chest with a cry as you stand there still- looking at yourself in the long mirror that stands beside the wardrobe. Your hands shake as you cup your face, your appearance, as horror strikes over you- of what you almost became. I need to leave, I need to go far away from here soon, you think to yourself before sending a bird before the shadows of the nightfall. 

You later join back with Mrs. Dekarios who claims that you make her sound bedridden with such titles, “Morena will do more than fine, for you are family,” she says with a broken smile as you both sit with a plate of dinner. Guilt begins to eat you alive, you feel horrible about leaving her so soon yet your heart can't bear anymore reminders of Gale and this house appears to be full of them. 

As you begin to tale all that happened in the study moments ago, Morena places a hand over her mouth, shielding a gasp before grasping your hand in hers tightly, “Please do save me some grace by saying that you will not be accepting such an offer- even if it is for my son, I do not have the heart to let go of yet another child of this family” she strains. 

Tara joins in on the sentiment, quipping, “There are greater evils than your own mortality, dear. It is a gift to live and a curse to exist- do not tempt fate into prolonging the inevitable for it will not serve you well.” 

You take their words to heart, giving a solid not in return as you sigh heavily. The weight of the world has appeared on your shoulders once more yet this time all you had to save was yourself. Who knew that this would be the hardest of them all, you think to yourself before topping off a glass and picking at the dinner set before you. 

Morena picks conversation back up, making commentary on all the new flowers she is growing in the greenhouse as you offer to give her some of the seeds to plants you had found from throughout your travels. She eagerly accepts your offer, asking the details of each species' environment and background as you both happily chat amongst yourselves. 

Yawns eventually fall upon your tired bodies as you hug your goodnights, Tara has made herself comfortable on Morena’s duvet cover as you softly close the door behind and enter your own guest space. The room is exactly as you left it besides the set of flowers that sit atop your bedside table. Observing them more closely- you find them to be your favorites but are confused as to how they were obtained. They are still not to bloom for many more months, you question to yourself while giving them a small sniff, smiling and producing a vase from your supplies before settling yourself in for the night. 

--

As birds begin to chirp outside your window, you stretch and pat the spot beside you. Your face falling in recognition of this habit for Gale's presence was no longer with you. Not wanting to sour such a bright morning you hoist yourself out of bed and begin to pack your belongings for the long journey ahead. You needed to make your way to the closest waypoint in order to meet up with some familiar faces. 

You have breakfast and the morning paper served to your room as Morena and Tara join you in your bed. You all chat happily with one another as they both pry for who you are travelling with and to what direction you are headed. To the best of your ability, you keep your lips sealed and promise to fly notes back on your adventures. Tara threatens you to uphold that promise as Morena scolds the tressym, she simply rolls her eyes in response before picking up another bite of fish. 

Bags packed and your boots fashioned to your feet, the green robe you wear matches the flowers blooming on the trees that you observe through the windows of the foyer. Morena stands from atop the stairs, Tara in her embrace as she waves you off. The door-greeter from earlier stands tall, awaiting your presence with a purple tint to their eyes. 

You observe them closely, offering your hand as they hesitantly shake it goodbye yet you grip it tight, pulling them in closer so that your mouth is right beside their ear as you observe the tip of it become pink from your warm breath. Whispering harshly you convey the utmost seriousness in your tone, “I expect to be the only present here when I am gone and for you to be alert for when I return. Is that clear?”

They only nod in reply as you let them go and motion for your luggage to follow you outside the house and down the path once more. The waypoint by the watersedge awaited you as did Halsin, taking what he quoted, “a prolonged vacation” once more from the grove. And along that way you both would be picking up Astarion later in the night. 

--

Your body lurched, still not being used to the waypoints pull on your form as you ended up a mile away from Emerald Grove. Smiling to yourself at all the memories you obtained from this area where your adventure started all those moons ago, you continued your journey to the Grove only to be met by a pair of large arms scooping you up and cheering excitedly in your ear. 

“It is good to see you, my old friend!” Halsin cheered as a few other druids called out their celebrations of your presence. 

“It is always good to see you as well, Halsin, the grove looks to be in better shape than ever!”

“Yes, much work has been done that deserves an award I think not? Let us continue our adventures together, right where they left off.”

“That is the plan I suppose,” you humble back while patting the tops of children's heads that had run up to you, excited to be in their saviours presence once more. 

Halsin looked at this image sweetly, a large smile growing over his face that soon fell when he looked closer into your eyes. He was expecting great news of your return as the letter he received answered yet all he felt now was growing concern.

You mouthed, later, to the bear-druid before the kids grabbed your hands and ushered you to play with them. Using your magic, you conjured up a sheet of ice as you skated with the children. Their laughter and smiles filled your senses with pride as you joined in their joyous expressions. 

Halsin watched from afar, the healer deeply concerned by this facade that you held yet he would wait for you to open up. It appears a long conversation is ahead of us, he thought to himself before addressing his successor and packing his belongings for the road ahead. 

--

As the children got called for their meals you and Halsin left the grove silently. The sun still held high in the sky as you ventured up the mountain path and towards the waypoint you agreed to meet Astarion by sunset. 

You could see Halsin struggling with himself to keep quiet about asking about your condition, always the healer, you thought to yourself before starting the conversation to ease the increasing wrinkles that framed the man's face. 

“Please rest assured I am plenty more than fine-” you begin to say before Halsin holds up a hand, stopping both of your walking and turns to face you. 

“I can observe that clearly with the plain eye yet nature speaks to me when I say that you are rotting away about something internally, tell me- where is the root of your worries, dearest friend?” 

His gaze holds you accountable as your image breaks, your shoulders slump forwards as his arms pat your back reassuringly. 

“You have always been the truest seer I have met, Halsin and an even better friend at that,” you sigh out, “you see- I have fallen for a man that has left this plane and I am left here in his wake. Here with my memories, here with my many emotions that I cannot help but feel conflicted on where to venture forth. I have the option to stick with a fragment of what is left or to be left remembering all that happened and all that could have been. It is torture to be found in the place between decicions, especially when those decisions stem from the heart.”

“You are wise for your journey thus far- you have always been, Y/N. I am happy to be of company, yet there is little I am willing to offer in swaying your opinion. It is of your body, mind and soul to discover the answers you speak of and I am here for as long as you need me to be- so that you can find those answers yourself,” Halsin replies, pulling away to squeeze your shoulder in reassurance before dropping his arm and continuing up the path.

You stand there still, contemplating his words before jogging up to match his strides. The sun has begun to set and you can feel the runes pulsing in the wind, beckoning you towards another friend here for your support. 

--

“My, I was beginning to worry you had forgotten about me like that Gale has done with you!”

“Astarion!” Halsin shouts out, his body stepping in front of you in an effort to shield you from the vampire's words. You whole-heartedly laugh out from behind the druid before trying to shove the man aside as you give Astarion a wave hello. 

“There are no hard feelings to be held, Halsin. I can take a joke or two in this state better than most,” you retort before signaling Astarion to come closer as you fling open your bag. 

“I have been studying your condition thoroughly and have shed some new light on it so to speak. Please take this, it is only a temporary solution- yet it could save you some skin,” you say as you hand over an enchanted ring. It glows in the beckoning moonlight as Astarion looks at it carefully. 

“I do not think it to be my style, but it will have to do for now,” he replies before slipping the ring on one of his fingers with a small smile, “Thank you for the help today and always, Y/N” he replies with heart as you return the smile. 

 “Are we good to go forward?” you ask the group while readying your bag across your back once more. “We are golden,” Halsin simply replies as your team makes its way southwards in search of a new and dangerous artifact that had mysteriously made its way to market once more as the newspaper clipping in your hand noted. 

--

Travelling through the night, and sleeping through the late morning, your team made great pace towards the village where the artifacts location was last known. Searching the perimeter of the area you all looked high and lows for clues as to its possible whereabouts and asked the locals who replied with utmost terror that you were trying to find the damned thing.  

“What good is it asking for help when all they do is look up at you- scared to the high heavens of your presence and scamper back to their homes” Aatarion comments boldly into the crowd that you navigate through. 

“Speaking from experience,” Halsin questions lightly, a slight teasing tone in his voice as Astarion tenses and shoulders fall after a quick breath in and out. 

“I just think that there is something odd stirring in the air. Heavens I should be the most of their concerns yet it appears that our sorcerer friend here is what drives the information away, why is that?” Astarion turns to question you, a perplexed expression coats his ivory skin. 

“That I do not know the answer to among many other things, I think that this is our sign to camp for the day and restart later in the next,” you rally the group to their nods of agreement as you all head out into the woods in search of a clearing for your belongings. 

--

The next night your camp is awoken to the sounds of hurried footsteps rushing around camp. Waking confused you ready a witch-bolt before rushing outside of your tent in your nightwear. A scratch can be heard as the figure cowers before you, jumping behind a rock with their hands outstretched- pleading, “I bring you no harm I swear- you are the great saviors are you not? And I am the legendary bard Alonzo! I have journeyed long and far to meet your crew- to sing others your stories in praise! If you would put down that magic in your palm and allow me to accompany you?” 

You look past the shaken bard to see two sets of eyes glowing behind, one red the other yellow as you signal for the boys to come peacefully from behind the treeline. As they join you back at camp you wave out the spell in your hand while offering your other hand to raise the man up. He stands impressively tall before you, a thankful smile coating his feature as he dips down to kiss the back of your hand. You notice as his long red hair shines in the moonlight, his high ruffled collar almost comical in shape and the pointed ears that he bares. His trousers hold minimal stains or blemishes as does his skin that has been painted in a pink hue from your prolonged staring. 

You giggle awkwardly in reply and remove your hand from their embrace before motioning everyone to sit on the louds surrounding the firepit as you call fire a spell to light the area. Alonzo claps impressively at your simple magic as he begins to scramble words in his journal. You watch his hurried writing strikes across the muddied pages as a violin sits idly beside him on the log. His shoes appear polished in the moonlight as he clicks the two together while beginning to humm a tune before peering up at you and smiling brightly as their eyes fall over your appearance slowly backtracking to their notetaking once more. 

“Do make sure to capture my looks in this tale of yours,” Astarion assures while observing the new ring you gave him. Halsin sits back watching the scene unfold, curious as to the outcome of it all while you can’t help but laugh to the melody of the violin that echoes across the forest and into the night. 

╰┈➤ A/N: and another part bites the dust, this is defiantly a longer series than I expected it to be and expect to have more coming its way!

What is Left by the Lakeside Series (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) you are here

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 9/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

He’d only known Jonah Greenway a few months.

It had been chance that brought him into the other witch’s orbit. At the time, he’d thought it was fate; the universe finally throwing him a bone after maybe deciding he deserved a break after the past five years.

He’d been making decent money working for a small construction outfit. It was all under the table, nothing even remotely resembling benefits, and the working conditions were not…great. But the guy running it was only a garden-variety scumbag, not evil. Evan was passably conversant in Spanish (four years of high school Spanish hadn’t stuck at all, but it turned out total immersion in tiny Peruvian beach towns was a much better teacher than Mrs. Weatherby) and followed orders well, so he rose quickly in the ranks. He’d managed to put enough aside to get a forged driver’s license and was saving up for a proper birth certificate and social security card (Evan Buckley wasn’t exactly a unique name, but in coven circles Buckley was a damn lightning rod, and if the wrong people noticed his magic hadn’t faded, it would bring everything tumbling down on Maddie’s head and the past five years would all have been for nothing) when some asshole had tipped ICE off about how many undocumented workers were on the crew.

Evan hadn’t expended that much magic in ages, but it had been worth it to make sure every last one of the guys he’d been working with for the past six months had made it home to families they were breaking their backs just to provide for.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk getting swept up in the inevitable investigation of the construction outfit, and so he’d had to abandon the job. Max had been the one to suggest he register with the same temp agency he picked up work at, at least until he could find something a little more permanent. Max hadn’t exactly come out and said it, but the implication was that the temp agency had a little bit of a side hustle going on finding work for people that couldn’t through regular channels for whatever reason.

Evan had not been hopeful, but even the meager rent that he owed sharing a three-bedroom house with seven other people would quickly eat through his savings. He’d taken the chance…and Jonah Greenway had been the first person he met.

He’d actually been in the process of gathering his things to leave. He’d sensed the other witch almost as soon as he’d been led back to the waiting room for his intake interview; had been cursing quietly to himself and heading for the door when Jonah had literally stepped out of an office door and blocked his exit.

“Hey, whoa, what’s the rush?” he’d said with an easy smile. “You’re my three o’clock right? I’m Jonah. Jonah Greenway.”

He’d been so friendly, smiled so disarmingly, ushered Evan into his office so smoothly that Evan hadn’t even had time to stammer out some made-up excuse about a family emergency before he was sitting down in front of Jonah’s desk. Jonah had thought he was trying to discreetly gather money to leave his coven—it didn’t happen often, but Evan knew better than most people that covens were not always safe, healthy environments—at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Evan had no coven bond at all.

Evan had sat in front of the desk, waiting for the inevitable. That flash of emotion—sometimes pity, more often disgust; people were not banished for minor crimes, after all—and then the ritual response. You are not known, and will find no welcome here. Depart now in peace, or be cast out in violence. Words that had been hurled at him dozens upon dozens of times over the last few years. He’d become skilled at keeping to himself over the years, avoiding places where he was likely to find other witches…but there were more of them now than there had ever been. Avoiding them entirely was impossible.

Instead, Jonah had tilted his head curiously. “How long ago were you banished?”

A simple question. But one Evan absolutely could never answer with the truth.

To be banished was to be erased from the world you grew up in. Cast out. Shunned. That was only the start of your punishment, though. The true torture of banishment was the loss of your magic. You could not become a witch. Either you were born with magic, or you were not…but it was not an intrinsic, immutable power. Magic needed the strength and support of a coven bond to exist. To grow. These days, magic was all but exclusively something passed down through coven bloodlines. Perhaps a child might be spontaneously born with magic (certainly the result of a witch somewhere in the family tree, whatever the circumstances of how they came to be there), but unless they were adopted into a coven, the magic was quickly lost. The instant a coven bond dissolved, the witch’s magic started to die.

Six months was the average time it took, less if the crime was especially heinous…as though magic itself wished to flee a witch that could abuse it in such a way. If a witch was especially powerful, it might take a year.

Unless, of course, a witch was innocent of the crime they were banished for. In those cases—rare as they were—the magic seemed to fight to stay, lingering in the witch’s blood for two or even three years, again depending on how powerful a witch was, how strong their family line. But it always faded. A witch needed a coven. The coven line the Buckleys came from was extremely old. Extremely powerful. It was reasonable that he might have kept his magic for a long time after being banished. Certainly no one would have blinked at him keeping some or even most of his magic for a couple of years.

Evan still had his magic five years after his banishment.

Almost as strong as the day he had left Pennsylvania.

Oh, he hadn’t completely escaped the effects of losing his coven bonds. Small spells, minor enchantments, those were still as easy as breathing…but more complex magic grew more difficult with each passing year. He could still do it—but it left him drained and exhausted, took a little more out of him each time, even as his recovery times remained unusually quick. His magic seemed to burn almost as brightly as ever, but it was almost like his body was no longer strong enough to house it.

But the fact he had it at all was testimony to the lie he’d told to protect Maddie, in blinking neon lights.

He should have left Jonah’s office as soon as he started asking about Evan’s banishment. Evan had burned his whole life down to make sure Maddie wouldn’t be punished for finally having the courage to try and escape Doug…and for what she did to save her own life when Doug caught her leaving. He’d given up everything he was, everything he’d ever be. He’d forced Sally to go along with his lie, using the power a witch could exert over their familiar to forbid her from revealing the truth. It still made him sick to think about it…and the betrayal in her golden eyes would haunt him ‘til his dying day. He’d willingly set himself on a path that meant he’d always be alone, and if anyone ever found out who he was…if they ever found out he was innocent of Doug’s murder, it would all be for nothing.

And that was not even counting what would happen to his former coven if anyone ever figured out just why Evan’s magic was so terribly powerful.

He should have left. But…Jonah had seemed so kind. He had not immediately hurled the ritual words that a witch was supposed to upon encountering someone who had been banished. There was open curiosity, even sympathy on his face—not anger. Not disgust.

It had been so long since Evan had been able to speak with someone he didn’t have to hide a huge part of himself from. So long since he’d felt the warmth of a coven bond. Jonah’s connection with his coven was dim and muted to Evan’s senses, as all coven bonds were now…like standing outside a house in the snow and pressing himself against the frozen windowpane to try and feel the warmth of the fireplace inside. It was ultimately futile.

But oh he was starved for it. The darkened places in his head and heart where his bonds with his coven and his familiar had once been were so cold. Jonah had seemed kind.

Jonah had sent him to die.

Evan wanted so badly to call Kinard a liar. To tell him he had no idea what he was talking about, that he couldn’t possibly be right…but as he listened to the one-sided conversation Kinard was having with someone named Howie—someone who apparently belonged to Jonah’s coven—his mind was casting through every interaction he’d ever had with the other witch.

And finding a lot to be suspicious about.

Things he’d ignored as just Jonah being cautious about his cove finding out he hadn’t immediately turned Evan away as their laws demanded. Times that he’d gotten a weird vibe off the other witch and just chalked it up to him being paranoid. Things he’d straight up ignored because it had been so long since he’d been able to speak to another of his kind for any length of time.

Jonah had sent him to die.

He’d known what was waiting for Evan and Max at that mansion, had fucking gift-wrapped Evan for a den of vampires. Jonah had almost allowed a vampire coven master unfettered access to witch blood. No one would have even known Evan was missing…no one would have come for him. Jonah had sent him to die.

God, how was a vampire who had fucking mind-controlled him, bitten him, kidnapped him, and been ordered by his own coven master to kill Evan somehow apparently the most honest person Evan had interacted with in this fucking city? Kinard was right. He had no reason to lie to Evan. He gained nothing by lying. There was no advantage. He didn’t need Evan to trust him; he could take whatever he wanted from Evan.

Apparently without Evan being able to put up any fight at all.

His mind skittered away from that, not wanting to think about the way his magic had refused his call, the way the fire spell had slipped from his grasp before he could throw it at Kinard. Never…his magic had never done something like that. He was just more tired than he thought he was…he needed some more time to recover. That had to be it. It had to be.

Evan didn’t know if he could keep the fear at bay if that wasn’t it.

But the fact remained that Kinard didn’t need to convince him that Jonah had betrayed him. It served no purpose other than to…hammer home for him just how utterly fucking alone he was in the world. And he’d recognized Jonah’s name. He didn’t…he didn’t know why exactly, but he had the feeling that the shock that had raced across the vampire’s face when he said Jonah’s name had been genuine.

Shock…shock made a certain amount of sense. A witch allowing another witch, even a banished witch, to fall into a vampire’s hands—that was grounds for execution. Hell, that was grounds for a coven war. Even if Kinard was a complete and utter evil bastard, surely he didn’t want a coven war in his territory.

God, Jonah had sent him to die.

He was so caught up in the spiral of his thoughts that he almost missed it when Kinard suddenly stiffened, whipping towards the door with a soft growl that Evan almost felt more than heard. The vampire took a few steps to the side, planting himself between Evan and the door more squarely than he’d been doing all this time. Evan’s stomach dropped, and he took a few stumbling steps backward.

“What—” he started, but Kinard held up a hand for silence, not even looking at Evan.

“Stay behind me,” the vampire ordered softly. “No magic, no matter what. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Evan goggled at that, at the calm, steady way Kinard said it, even though he was clearly bracing for some kind of fight. Evan’s magic pulsed, crackling through his blood a little stronger now that he’d had a chance to eat…and yet it still felt so strangely calm. As though he really was safe behind the vampire. He had no time to contemplate the absurdity of that, as seconds later the deadbolt on the door turned.

Kinard tensed further, widening his stance slightly, as the door swung open, revealing two people Evan thought were hazily familiar. A blonde woman with dark eyes and a no-nonsense expression and a tall, dark-haired man who, while not as broad and muscular as Kinard, gave off a similar air of age and power. Vampires. Both of them. Evan swallowed hard, unable to keep from flinching back when the woman’s eyes darted towards him before settling on Kinard.

“Sal. Lucy,” Kinard said evenly. The man, Sal apparently, sighed heavily.

“Damn it, Tommy,” he said, sounding more exasperated than anything else. He too flicked his eyes toward Evan, shifting uneasily. “Just trusting him not to charbroil us?”

He could. He…he felt like he could, now. It would take what little energy he’d recouped out of him, and he still had no idea what he could do against Kinard, but he felt like he could burn the two new vampires to ash before they could stop him. He also…he also felt like that would be a bad idea. His magic swirled and coiled in his chest, still calm and relaxed, and it only served to confuse him.

“You could go back home and not have to worry about it,” Kinard replied, his back still ramrod straight. Sal smiled, without much humor.

“Apparently I shouldn’t have left you here alone in the first place. What the hell, Tommy boy? Alonzo gave you an order.”

“Alonzo doesn’t have all the information. This is messier than we thought, Sal.”

The blonde woman startled at that. “Messier? How the hell can this get messier?” she demanded. Kinard shrugged.

“I’ll explain, but we’re not killing him. Understand?”

At that, Sal went very, very still. Then he tilted his head slowly, his posture, his expression, every line of his body shifting just slightly, until Evan was staring at a hunter. A predator. Sal’s eyes gleamed faintly under the apartment’s lighting, the ruby light of a vampire on the trail of blood. The hair on the back of Evan’s neck rose up and a chill raced up and down his spine.

“Tommy. Your coven master gave you a direct order. Are you seriously going to try and stop me if I carry it out right now?”

Kinard blew out a harsh breath, and slowly rolled his shoulders. “You and I both know I’m not going to try,” he said.

Evan had a beat to look at the back of Kinard’s head in surprise…and then Sal struck. In a movement nearly too fast for Evan’s eyes to follow, the dark-haired vampire lunged, a harsh growl echoing through the apartment. Evan had a brief impression of burning red eyes, hands like claws outstretched towards him, and before he could even think of throwing up a spell, Kinard was between them. An even louder snarl erupted from Kinard and suddenly he had Sal by the throat, holding him off the ground like he weighed nothing. The blonde woman shrieked, and Kinard casually tossed the other vampire back across the room.

Sal’s back slammed against the wall by the door and he bounced off it, still landing lightly on his feet. Kinard crouched slightly, readying himself to spring, but to Evan’s complete bewilderment, Sal held his hands up in surrender, shaking his head with a resigned sort of chuckle. He said something in another language—Italian maybe, but it sounded weird—that Evan didn’t need to understand to know was something extremely rude, but when he opened his eyes they were no longer red.

“All right, all right, fuck’s sake. I guess you’re serious. Fine. What’s the real plan, then?”

And…what?

“What?” the blonde woman echoed, whirling on her companion.

Kinard straightened warily, still keeping himself between Evan and the vampires. His…coven, Evan realized with a pulse of dull surprise. They had to be members of his coven. And Kinard had just…defended him from one of them.

Sal cracked his neck a couple of times, and then shrugged, an almost affable expression settling on his face. “Look, I love Alonzo and Josh, I really do. But I think they sometimes forget you’re almost a thousand fucking years old, Tommy boy. No one’s making you do anything you don’t want to do, and that’s when you’re not hopped up on witch blood. Besides. I trust you more than I trust myself some days, so if you say the kid needs to live, he needs to live.” He leaned slightly to one side so he could see Evan clearly and tipped him a salute with two fingers against his forehead. “So, I say again, what’s the real plan?”

The blonde woman—Lucy, Kinard had called her Lucy—was looking between him, Kinard, and Sal with a bewildered expression that quickly shifted to annoyance. She threw up her hands and stalked further into the apartment.

“Fine. Banished witches, unsanctioned drinking, city-wide political implications…why not add a little light treason?”

Sal smirked, and then winked at Evan. Fucking winked at him. “That’s the spirit!”

Kinard rubbed his eyes wearily, and then half-turned to Evan with a face that looked for all the world apologetic. “They’re not bad once you get to know them,” he offered.

[luxlightly]

Thoughts on Astarion and why he's the most compelling character in BG3 to me right now

I've been posting a lot about this boy recently, mostly just about finding him hilarious and adorable but I do genuinely love his character and find him extremely interesting.

The defining thing about his story, especially when comparing it to Wyll or Gale, is just how LONG he has been suffering. Wyll has essentially just realized how tricked he's been and is fuming, Gale is still in denial that he's done anything wrong except for failing at his goal to return the trapped magic. Astarion has been a puppet for an evil vampire lord who tortured him and forced him to lure probably hundreds of people to their deaths for TWO HUNDRED YEARS.

He's past the initial anger. Past the denial. He's gone through every kind of grief a dozen times over until he came around to a terrible, cold acceptance. And to having to see the "funny side" of it. The cruel, twisted humor in everything. For instance, he seems, in some way, truly sorry for Mayrina and her husband's fate, but also finds it funny. He mentions he wishes Mayrina could at least see the "funny side of it". It seems that crucial to his ability to accept the things he's done and have been done to him.

I saw a comment earlier that said they felt Astarion is just "needlessly evil" but honestly I see very clear cut motivations in all of his approval choices. Fear for his life. Fear of being controlled. And finding joy, however twisted, in the horrible things that have befallen him and others.

I honestly think one of the best scenes in exploring his character is the goblin party after siding with the goblins in the grove battle, which is likely a much more rare scene since the game pushes you pretty hard towards helping the teiflings. If you side with the teiflings, he spends the party being boisterous and whiny. He complains loudly about the lack of reward, but seems to be mostly just blowing smoke, enjoying complaining. He'll joke around with you and, while making a fuss about it, does seem to enjoying himself to some extent, even if it's just enjoying the fuss he's making. And he raises a good point. If you tell him "just think of the lives we saved" he'll raise the question: did you really "save" anyone? You killed as many goblins in the camp as there were teiflings in the grove. Goblins who were manipulated and controlled by the cult of the Absolute. At the end of the day, you decided that some lives were worth the loss of others. Whether or not you made the "right" decision is up to your interpretation. It gives a glimpse into the way he's come to rationalize the things he's had to do under Cazador's command.

At the goblin party, he's much more subdued. I saw a video saying he was clearly "having a great time" but I don't see it that way at all. His jokes are dry and dark. His words soft. The way we only really see him in scenes where he feels vulnerable, emotionally. His usual flamboyant nature dulled. If you express regret over what you did, he tells you "You did what you had to. Don't be ashamed you did it well." You can really tell how that's a motto he's had to cling to himself. He's not wracked with guilt the way the others like Gale and Shadowheart are, but you can see exactly why. Not because he wanted this, but because he's completely internalized the idea that one can't get what they want. They can only take it. And accept everything else as inevitable. Right and wrong stopped meaning anything to him a long long time ago. There's just life. Survival. And whatever it takes to keep on going.

Everything Astarion does is, in some way, about protecting himself. His blades protect his body. His harsh words and lies protect his secrets. His humor protects his mind. Which is why each of his important character cutscenes have been about having to lower his guard. To trust you with all three of those things.

I'm very interested in seeing what will happen when he truly is faced with the decision to protect himself or to protect those he cares about. I think that will be the defining moment for him and will vary wildly depending on if you've managed to get him to lower his defenses around you and learn to trust.

[kasarawolf]

"I know I can't save everyone...but I sure as Hell can try."

Kota is not your conventional, run of the mill "Hero."

Self destructive and a rule breaker by nature, Kota sees his body as a "tool," and will often put himself in harm's way to ensure the safety of those around him. Unable to turn a blind eye to those who are fated to die in Main Timeline events while out on Patrol, Kota will break the Laws of Time and intervene by saving these ghosts of the past, even if it only does "delay the inevitable," in the long run. He can't in good conscious, continue his job as the appointed "Hero of Conton," and ignore these past tragedies, especially when he has all this power to do something about it. It eats away at him.

But no matter how many people he saves, no matter how many times he goes back in Time and no matter what he does to atone for past transgressions, it never seems enough as the void in his heart grows day by every passing day.

He is no Hero. These are only the acts of a selfish man, filling a role.

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

My brain never works when it comes to writing these ;_; My entry for the Star Universe pageant over on twitter ^_^

The last two lines are what Kota thinks of himself. He really hates being called a Hero and wholeheartedly believes he's not saving these people, just out of the "goodness of his heart." He just wants the voices to stop.

This would have been uploaded days ago, if the dumb lines for the main colored Kota didn't get all jacked up B) But it is done and fixed!

Decided to use this entry to show off some of my story :D Kota is an Anti Hero and his choices are a little...questionable in my fic :) 

[tomhardystories]

Part 2

Jules had always prided herself on being practical, even when it came to heartbreak. Her last relationship had ended just a month ago - not with an explosion, but with a quiet resignation that neither of them was happy nor would ever make each other happy. It wasn’t devastating, but it left her wary. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t let anyone else into her life for a long while.

So, when Tom Hardy kept crossing her path, it wasn’t just uncanny. It was annoying. Not because she didn’t like him, but because she did. And that was the problem.

It started innocently enough. Jules was standing in line at her favorite café, trying to decide whether to get her usual cappuccino or indulge in a caramel latte when she heard a familiar voice ahead of her.

“No milk, no sugar. Just black.”

Her stomach sank, and she groaned softly. You have got to be kidding me.

The man turned around, holding his coffee, and there he was, Tom Hardy, in the flesh, smirking as if the universe had delivered her right to him.

“Well, well” he said, his voice low and teasing. “It’s you again.”

Jules gave him a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you live here too.”

“No, just in town for work” he said, stepping aside to let her order. “Though I’m starting to wonder if we’re on the same schedule.”

“Trust me, I wouldn’t plan my mornings around bumping into you” she shot back, though her tone was more playful than biting.

“Shame” he said, leaning against the counter as she ordered. “I was starting to think fate was trying to tell us something.”

“Fate needs to mind its business” she replied, grabbing her cappuccino.

Before she could leave, he held the door open for her. “Well, Jules, see you around. Seems inevitable at this point.”

She raised an eyebrow, amused despite herself. “I hope not.”

A few days later, Jules was at the dog park with Charlotte and her spaniel. She wasn’t a dog person - too much work - but she enjoyed watching other people fuss over their pets. That was, until Charlotte nudged her, pointing toward a man tossing a tennis ball for a scruffy mutt.

“You’re kidding” Jules muttered.

Tom noticed her before she could hide. He waved, that same maddening smirk on his face.

“Do you live here too?” Jules called out, approaching him.

“Nope, just visiting a mate’s dog” he replied, giving the mutt a fond scratch behind the ears. “Didn’t know you were a dog person.”

“I’m not” she said flatly. “Charlotte’s trying to turn me into one.”

“Good luck with that” Tom said, chuckling. “You don’t strike me as someone who follows the crowd.”

She tilted her head, half-smiling. “I don’t know if that was a compliment or an insult.”

“Why not both?” he teased.

For the next few minutes, they chatted lightly. Tom asked about her work, Jules asked about his temporary stay in New York. Despite herself, Jules found the conversation... easy. Too easy. She didn’t like it.

“Alright, Hardy” she said, standing abruptly. “Stop charming me. It’s unsettling.”

“Who said I was trying?” he called after her, his grin audible.

The third encounter came at a charity gala Samantha insisted Jules attend. Jules had barely survived a dry conversation about the stock market when she spotted Tom across the room, chatting animatedly with an older couple.

Before she could slip away, he noticed her and walked over, holding, of all things, a glass of sparkling water.

“Evening, Jules” he said, looking genuinely happy to see her.

“You again” she said, though her tone lacked any real edge. “Should I just give you my schedule so we can plan these meetings properly?”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?” Tom said, holding up his glass. “Non-alcoholic, before you ask. Wouldn’t want you thinking I drink at every party.”

Jules smirked. “Disappointing. I was going to blame all your flirting on whiskey.”

“Flirting? Is that what this is?” he asked, amused.

She shook her head, biting back a smile. “Good night, Tom.”

But the real torment started when Jules realized she couldn’t escape him, even when he wasn’t physically there. Walking through the city, she saw his face plastered on a massive movie poster, smoldering down at her from the side of a bus. At home, she opened YouTube, only to find an interview with him featured in her recommended videos.

“Are you kidding me?” she muttered at her screen, slamming her laptop shut.

By the time Jules sat down for brunch with Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte, she felt like she was losing her mind.

“He’s everywhere” she blurted, barely waiting for her mimosa to be served.

“Who’s everywhere?” Samantha asked, leaning in with her signature grin.

“Tom Hardy” Jules said, running a hand through her hair. “I ran into him at a café, a dog park, and a gala. I can’t go five minutes without bumping into him - or his face. He’s on movie posters, buses, my YouTube feed...”

Charlotte raised an eyebrow. “Wait. The actor?”

“Yes” Jules groaned. “And it’s not just the encounters. He’s... nice. Annoyingly nice. Funny. He’s got this stupid smirk that makes me...”

“Want to kiss him or slap him?” Miranda interjected, grinning.

“Both” Jules admitted, taking a long sip of her drink.

Charlotte looked concerned. “Maybe it’s a sign?”

“A sign of what? That the universe hates me?” Jules groaned.

“No” Samantha said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “A sign that you should sleep with him. Look at him. Some women would kill just to run into him around the city as often as you do."

“Stop it" Jules muttered.

Charlotte tilted her head thoughtfully. “You’re single now, Jules. Maybe it’s the universe telling you it’s time to put yourself out there again.”

“I just got out of a relationship” Jules said firmly. “I don’t want another man complicating my life.”

“Not every man has to be a complication” Samantha said, twirling her straw. “Some are just fun.”

Jules gave her a look. “That’s your motto for everything, Sam.”

“And look how much fun I’m having” Samantha said with a wink.

Miranda leaned forward. “Honestly, Jules, if he’s as charming as you say, why not just see where it goes? You’re not committing to anything.”

Jules sighed, slumping in her chair. “I don’t know. It’s just... it feels too soon. And too coincidental.”

Charlotte smiled gently. “Maybe that’s the best time to try something new. When you’re not expecting it.”

Jules stared at her friends, their well-meaning advice swirling in her mind. She wasn’t sure what frustrated her more, the fact that they might be right, or the fact that part of her wanted to find out if they were.

[yingren]

❛ i’m sorry that i can’t save you, ren. ❜ / jing yuan ( because i was told to & i ain't no coward. )

the irritation is difficult to mask, surfacing as a slow, simmering tide of resentment that he knows should have been buried long ago. yet here it is again, rising unbidden and coursing through his veins like poison. each word jing yuan speaks lands like a deliberate blow, his tone dripping with an unwarranted conviction that needles its way under ren’s skin. the air between them feels heavy, laden with an unspoken tension that ren would rather not dissect. his crimson gaze narrows, studying the man with a mixture of disdain and defiance, the weight of their shared history dragging his emotions into sharper focus. every syllable is a thorn, each one pricking deeper into a wound ren refuses to let heal.

the very idea of seeking refuge or an escape from the messes of his own making is absurd, a fabrication that must be born from that stupidly thick skull of jing yuan's - an invention ren would gladly dismantle if he could.

“ your pity disgusts me. way to ruin a perfectly fine day. ” 

bitterly, ren chews the inside of his cheek, his jaw tight with restrained frustration. somewhere along the line, he knew this conversation was inevitable, yet the timing of it feels like a cruel twist of fate. that it happens now - when he’s only just begun to find his footing in this unfamiliar routine, a life so alien to him that he’s still struggling to define it. it feels like salt rubbed into a wound. this fragile truce, this tenuous balance he’s worked to uphold, seems to teeter precariously every time someone utters something like this. the words chip away at the fragile calm he’s built, threatening to undo it entirely.

it’s not as if ren doesn’t understand jing yuan’s perspective. at least, he believes he has some measure of insight. they’ve all been marked by loss in their own ways, scarred by centuries of enduring and enduring again. grief is a weight ren knows all too well, and though he can’t fault jing yuan for carrying his share of it, that knowledge does little to temper his irritation. 

in the end, they’re just two old and worn-out men, each shaped by the relentless passage of time. their first proper reunion wasn’t all that long ago, yet the weight of shared history lingers heavily between them, unspoken but ever-present. ren tells himself he understands, that he grasps the broader context of jing yuan’s words, but it doesn’t extinguish the flame of his anger. that, he decides, is justified.

the hunter turns his head aside, his hand instinctively rising to scratch at the nape of his neck, fingers picking at the skin with a tension that threatens to break it. agitation churns through him, unsettling the calm he so often tries to maintain, scattering his thoughts into a large mess he has no patience to untangle. the urge to snap back, to unleash his frustration, gnaws at him insistently, barely subdued as he forces his attention elsewhere. his gaze settles on a small bird perched on a nearby branch, its tiny frame hopping forward and letting out a sharp chirp. for no good reason, ren finds himself hating it.

“ what exactly do you think you would be saving me from ? ” arms move to cross over his chest & the hunter still averts his gaze. “ nevermind. don’t answer that, you will only piss me off more. ”

[aldbooks]

A Strange Melody - Ch 12 - Epilogue

@sunshinebingo

AO3

6 months later

Azriel, long used to seeing in the dark, stared across his pillow on the longest night of the year at his new wife sleeping beside him. Even in the darkness, she seemed to glow softly like the bond humming contentedly in his chest. 

Running his eyes over the soft curves of her freckled face, he thought back to that day on the beach when everything changed…

The sea god’s power was so immense, Azriel could feel it rolling off of him in waves that made even his shadows pause in awe. The man smiled at his mate in an almost fatherly manner before shifting an assessing gaze to Azriel. Amusement lit his hypnotic eyes as he eyed Azriel’s wings. 

“I see the cauldron did not just bless you with a fae mate, but a bird.” Azriel bristled slightly but the sea god just chuckled. “You were always a child of land and sea, my dear,” he continued, his attention back on Gwyn who leaned against Azriel’s chest. Glancing down he saw her delicate brow furrow.

“Your father was a sailor who washed up on this very beach after a storm. Your mother was infatuated with him the first moment she saw him and nursed him back to health. They were quite happy for a time, but inevitably, as all sailors do, he felt the call to return to the sea. He promised to return, and I believe he would have, had his next voyage not been as ill fated as the one that led them to each other.”

He felt Gwyn stiffen in his arm at this news. Azriel was a little shocked himself. She was half fae. What did that mean? She seemed to be just as susceptible to the sea’s magic as any other of her kind. 

“Perhaps the cauldron knew that one day you would wish to leave the sea and gave you a mate to call you to your father’s home,” he looked almost sad as he said this and Azriel wondered again just what sort of relationship Gwyn had with the sea god.

“So I am to split my time between the land and the sea for the rest of my life? That doesn’t seem fair,” Gwyn asked softly. Azriel held her more tightly. He too was dreading having to sacrifice half of his time with his mate to the sea but he would sacrifice anything to have even that little time with her.

The sea god’s smile widened. “Years ago, when you and your sister were first born, your mother came to me and asked a favor…” Azriel stilled, feeling Gwyn do the same.

He had watched in awe as the sea god summoned the golden triton he was so often depicted with, the source of his power, and pointed the tips of its gleaming tines at Gwyn. Shimmering magic filled the air around them, glowing brighter and brighter until it was almost blinding. Gwyn gasped, clutching the arm around her waist and Azriel pulled her more firmly into his chest, blindly shielding them both with his wings until the light faded and they both stared down at… 

Gwyn released a choked sound as she curled her knees up to her chest, lifting one pale foot out of the water. Her toes wiggled experimentally and she laughed, the sound vibrating in his soul like a bell. 

The sea god explained that Gwyn’s mother had discovered when the twins were toddlers that they were able to move between land and sea at will and, after a particularly harrowing incident where Catrin had wandered from the shore of one of the islands and into a village on her own, and their mother had almost run out of time to find her before she was forced to return to the sea, she had come to him asking him to bind their power until they were both of age and better able to protect themselves. She had intended to tell them both of their heritage when they were ready and allow them to make the choice themselves to continue living as the oceanids did, or reclaim their ability to landwalk.

“You are still a child of the sea and will still need to return to these waters from time to time,” he told Gwyn with a pointed look. “But, you will have much more freedom to come and go as you please. And I hope you might occasionally decide to visit an old man now and again…”

The sea god’s eyes softened as Gwyn gave him a teary grin and nodded. “Thank you.”

“It is your birthright, my dear… but I wish you joy, Gwyneth.” His gaze shifted to Azriel who had been too stunned to move for most of the exchange. “Treat her well, Illyrian, or even your own gods will not save you from me.”

Swallowing hard, Azriel had nodded and sworn, “Like the treasure she is.”

Satisfied, the god had bade them farewell and disappeared into the dark depths below. Azriel had quickly wrapped Gwyn in his shirt and flown them back to the palace where he introduced her to his family as his mate and she had been welcomed by them all with open arms.

They had courted properly over the last few months as Gwyn became better acquainted with his home and found a place for herself amongst their court. Azriel had still opted to commission a house to be built on the island where he’d found her again, a place for them to be alone together, especially when Gwyn returned to the sea once a month for more than her daily swim. He had tried once to let her take him below but the inability to use his wings and the strange sensation of breathing underwater had unsettled him and so he contented himself with waiting for her on the shore of their island for her to return.

Finally, they had decided to consummate their bond in a small, intimate ceremony on a night his people deemed sacred, surrounded by their family and friends. After a lively Solstice dinner in which they were repeatedly, and obnoxiously toasted by their loved ones, Azriel had flown them out to the little cottage where they would spend the next month thoroughly consummating that bond.

He’d already taken her multiple times, but even still, his body and that tether in his soul, ached for more. He wondered, as he reached out and gently swept a lock of hair from her face, if he would ever have enough of her.

At his touch, Gwyn stirred, sighing as she blinked her luminescent eyes open and gave him a lazy, satisfied smile. She reached for him in the same moment he did her and they were once again lost to that strange melody that sang between their souls.

[yuujism]

Tainted Promises (geto suguru x reader)

Part 1: Tainted

| PAIRINGS: gojo satoru x gn!reader x getou suguru

| WARNINGS: suggestive, explicit language, smut soon (next chapter will have tags) woo plot, established relationship, cheating, toxic, revenge, angst, kinda modified so it can fit the story (implied to be set after riko's death and geto's spiralling but uhh...), reader's sex and physical appearance is never mentioned, grammar errors

| WORD COUNT: 2.1k

| A/N: i'm back but im not really back lol this is the first part of a small series I started writing like 2 years ago and found in my notes app so... why not publish it and let people read it even if i am not currently writing? anyway idk if people remember me but thank u for supporting my works even after all this time and liking them :) see you in 2 more years LOL (jk ... unless...)

They were the strongest.

Those words resonated as an echo in Suguru’s mind since that day, the meaning behind those words still a total mystery. Perhaps it was meant as a responsibility. An inevitable fate. 

An implicit promise. 

He didn’t think much of it before Satoru’s serious words struck him like a lightning inside the eye of the storm, coming back to Suguru in form of dreams. Nightmares. Images of welcoming bloody hands spread towards him, an invitation, perhaps even a threat, to join a lawless world dictated by the untouchable. The strongest.

No. That wasn’t Suguru’s ideal.

Who cared about being the strongest among all? Rules were necessary. Listen to the higher-ups, complete missions, save and protect humans, swallow curses, taint yourself. Swallow, taint, conserve the peace. That was the job of a jujutsu sorcerer. That was the job of Geto Suguru.

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong.

So why was Satoru—his teammate, his accomplice, his best friend—different from him? A rule breaker, a rebellious soul with god complex issues, an idiot, incapable of seriousness and apathetic.

Why, even with all those flaws to Suguru’s eyes, could Satoru get someone like you in his life?

You, just like Suguru, followed the rules. A professional sorcerer that cared for the weak, getting out of their way to protect the smallest and even the biggest. Top of the class after him, Yaga’s right hand, the favourite of the higher-ups, probably even more trustable than Suguru himself. However, now with your brand new relationship with Satoru? Not that much. He knew that way too well.

Tainted. Making a promise with Satoru would get anyone tainted. 

The probelms seemed to have started one month after the beginning of your story together. A few weeks later, they were too obvious for Suguru -or anyone- to ignore. Hints of sleepless nights appeared on your features and the memories of an unknown scent that followed Satoru’s clothes kept haunting you along with the jealousy and hurt in your body. Missed calls, ditched dates and  a small bruise on your lover’s neck. It quickly became toxic. Almost unbearable. Suguru knew it. You knew it. 

And you both played dumb.

Responsible. You had to be responsible for your actions. You made a promise after all, and, ever the diplomatic sorcerer, you were intending to keep it. Swallowing the pain and hatred, the sadness and sorrow, the embarrassment and anger, you decided to keep living with the lie that was Gojo Satoru as proudly as your shattered dignity allowed you. You were better than him but for how long? 

Rules were necessary. You followed the rules as a religion. But what good did that ever bring you? 

Suguru could already sense it, perhaps even before you noticed. The corruption that anger and impotence could bring you. It was unstoppable once it started spreading, taking over your thoughts and ideals to then consume your actions. Satoru was the strongest in almost every sense that he became a poisonous time bomb for the ones surrounding him. It just happened to explode in your face to suffer the majority of the consequences. 

But were you the only one living them? You certainly weren’t the only one ignoring the menace that Satoru was. And definitely not the only one involved closely with said sorcerer. 

Suguru vividly remembers the shared laughs between him and his best friend after the story of how Satoru cheated on you. Repeatedly. A good fuck, he described you, his favourite toy so far. But Suguru knew him too well, right? He understood him better than anyone to even expect him to get in a serious relationship, right? That’s why they were best friends, the strongest, the rulers of the new to come sorcery world. Right? 

Right. Satoru was right. Even if Suguru’s brain didn’t stop replaying images of you with clenched teeth and hands closed in a tight fist, angry eyes staring at Satoru’s figure from afar to quickly change into your usual loving and submissive demeanour when he turned to look at you, he agreed. Even if Suguru felt himself become worse than he ever was when you gave him the sweetest of smiles even after laughing at you with Satoru for the nth time behind your back, he agreed. 

Because Satoru was hard-to-swallow for Suguru, yet he kept indulging himself into the bittersweet taste that was that friendship over and over again. 

Rules, responsibilities, strength, empathy. None of that mattered when Satoru was in the picture. The only thing that mattered was a promise. At the end of the day, they were best friends for a reason and you were with him for a reason.

That didn’t change the fact Suguru could treat you so much better. Be so much better. His heart dropped at the thought. Was he in the position to even think that after being accomplice of Satoru’s actions? After playing along and laughing at you? At this point, he was as guilty as your current cheat of a lover. But he could still have a chance, could he not? He was strong, responsible and professional. Would he be any better than Satoru? He thought he would. He hoped he would. 

Suguru’s mind started flooding with questions once again, self-doubt dripping from every single one of them until his thoughts were flooded with insecurities and rage. Rage? Strange yet oddly familiar. The warmth travelling over his body felt nice for once. No longer suppressed and set free to quickly come down from that high to feel guilty once again. Why would he feel rage towards Satoru? He was his best friend.

Was he?

Oh, how Suguru missed that little voice inside his head. A voice that he silenced long ago. The one that told him to commit the unbelievable, that went against all his morals and ideals, the one that ordered him to swallow and swallow, not for the greater good but for him to become stronger. Because he could. Because he wanted to. The voice that was as tainted as his thoughts were right now.

And now, as his chest tightened with anger and his body ached with hunger of power, Suguru never felt more as himself as he did now. Strong and capable, the maker of his own rules and own world. A perfect world. He was right back then when he thought of the weak as simple as that: weak. And he was right to feel what he avoided to feel all that time.

Power.

Suguru had the power to ignore the responsibility that came along with it. He had the power to follow his own path with his own decisions without having to live behind someone else’s shadow. To get what he wanted whenever he wanted. 

Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. 

That was Geto Suguru. And right now, he wanted you.

And nobody noticed. Not Satoru, his proclaimed best friend, who kept playing around lost in the pleasure of both you and the freedom of being the strongest. Not the higher-ups who kept relying on him to keep an eye on the threat that was Satoru. Not his acquaintances that followed him mindlessly into a slowly growing empire. His empire.

Nobody noticed the power growth in Suguru. Nobody except you. 

Strong. Suguru was strong in your eyes. With sly movements, smug smile and a powerful stance. Completely overshadowed by the confidence of your current lover until the day he looked at you from above. Both figuratively and literally. His eyes held a promise, a completely different kind from Satoru’s that you understood way too well it scared you. 

Carnal, passionate and angry. That was his promise. A shiver ran down your spine at the mere sight of Suguru, responsible and respectful Suguru, smirking at you. Dark and dangerous. A different Suguru. Because you both shared the same ideal. Rules were necessary. And this time he was the one who made the rules. 

You weren’t interested. At least you tried to convince yourself you weren’t. Rules weren’t meant to be broken nor renewed, not by Suguru, not by you, not by anyone. So why did you feel excited at the thought of going against your own morals? To break, destroy and betray everything and everyone along with your lover’s best friend? It shouldn’t surprise you, in fact, you were not surprised. 

Your promise to Satoru started losing importance when you considered meeting with Suguru. You lied to yourself by thinking it would be to have a small talk, to ask for an explanation behind the meaning of that moment between the two of you and kindly reject whatever he wanted to propose. It sure didn’t matter anymore when you were under his dark gaze at the step of his door, mouth open in a silent gasp at the power Suguru, overshadowed Suguru, radiated, never losing his gentle and highly demanour as he let you in with a soft smile on his face and the smooth sound of your name leaving his mouth. 

A treacherous silence filled the room as time seemed to freeze between the two of you, staring at each other seconds after closing the door. 

You wanted to yell at him for even thinking he could get away with whatever he had in mind. For deeming you so low to think you would break the promise to Satoru and betray him when you were better than that. But were you when excitement was making your legs shake when Suguru’s eyes landed on your lips for a small second? Were you better when you couldn’t stop thinking in the way his large hands would feel on your body?

The answer was crystal clear: you weren’t. You never were. 

And realisation hit you. It hit you harder than Satoru’s cheating. And it sure hit you harder than the surprise you felt when you threw yourself at Suguru’s arms, lips crashing in a desperate kiss.  

Because all those times, Suguru could see through you and he was a great pretender too. He saw your hatred and your thirst for revenge, the constant fight within you to stop yourself from breaking the rules. To disobey the higher-ups. To betray Yaga. To hurt Satoru. They all deserved it. How pretentious of you to even think you were any better than any of them.

You and Suguru were the same. Responsible, dutiful, diplomatic and strong. Suguru just happened to be stronger.

As Suguru’s large hands roamed over your waist to push you closer to his own body as his tongue entered the warmth of your own mouth, you realised something else. You didn’t want Suguru and neither did he want you. What you both wanted was the power taht was long taken away from you. 

Power over a certain sorcerer.

It seemed Suguru noticed your change in demanour as your tangled your hand in his long silky hair and slightly pulled, the aggressiveness of your tongue along with his making him let out a groan that you swallowed with a whimper before he pulled away, a sly smirk on his face.

“You sure didn’t need any explanation, did you?” Suguru muttered as one of his hands traveled to your cheek, his thumb caressing your now wet lips as he eyed you. Such a gentle move yet so dominant. Expected from someone like Suguru. “Finally grew tired of Satoru cheating on you?”

That was unexpected.

Rage filled your body once again as you slapped his hand away from your face, glaring at him just the same way you’ve glared at Satoru when he wasn’t looking. Suguru chuckled as he grabbed your face once again, this time a little rougher as he turned you to face him again, other hand sneaking under your shirt to feel the soft skin under it. You held back a moan.

“Oh, come on. It was a small joke.” He playfully stated, long fingers drawing circles on the side of your waist as you grew impatient and angry. At what? You weren’t sure.

“An unfunny one at that.” You finally spoke and Suguru raised an eyebrow at the unknown and new stern tone your voice held. The sweet, professional and kind goody two shoes forsaken under his influence. “I didn’t come here for a stand-up show.” 

Your hands made their move again, landing on the collar of his shirt as you got closer again, anticipation giving you the confidence you lost before.

“I can see that.”

And just like that, your mouths crashes again, this time angrier, hungrier. Suguru’s comment about Satoru cheating on you lit an agressive fire within you that you tried to extinguish. But here, between Suguru’s arms and the feeling of his mouth now travelling down your neck, you finally felt free.

Next chapter (spicy) preview: "Your boyfriend likes sloppy seconds, did you know that? Should I just cum inside you and send you off to him dripping with my seed? Hm?"