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blue-jisungs · 2 months

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silent hug

author's note. this is veeeery self indulgent bc my exams r killing me so yeah 👍

genre. hurt to comfort (i think?), classmates to friends ??? idk man just whipped n cute sunoo

summary. in which your classmate comforts you when you tear up in class :(

warnings. cursing, reader is in a bad place mentally,, kinda hinting to academic burnout? ,, crying :( + not proofread, sorry!!

word count. 1286

with a heavy sigh you plopped down on the chair, putting your bag on the desk. the walk from the bus stop to the university tired you out but at least you got four or five minutes before the classes started. so you rested your head against the bag and closed your eyes, taking in a little more sleep than you could get this morning.

the final season is coming to an end, finally. but weirdly enough, you don’t feel relieved. sure, there’s only three or four exams left – and you haven’t really studied for them but that’s a thing to do the day before, isn’t it? – but you can’t help but feel the exhaustion. your friends chat about how there’s less things to take then it was at the beginning, sure. but the closer you get to the midterm break, the less motivation you have. and the tiredness that accumulated throughout the whole month is seeking its way out.

which is why you’re a mess nowadays. promising yourself to study but ending up doing everything but studying, falling asleep at ungodly hours (and regretting it later)… or shutting yourself down from the world. your friends got used to it, everyone has their lives after classes after all. but you carry on with do not disturb on most of the time, missing out their conversations on chats and tiktoks they’ve sent you. sure, you could’ve read them later – but there’s a sinking feeling of guilt (and a dazzle of overthinking) that you’re such a shitty friend.

all of this causes your negative emotions to bottle up. and you know it’s not a good thing, especially when you feel like you’re about to cry when a minor inconvenience occurs. but you’re stronger than that, no? the thought of locking yourself in your room during the break keeps you alive, pushing the sadness – seemingly – away.

a sudden tap on your shoulder caused you to open your eyes and lazily shift your focus to your classmate, sunoo. you looked around and didn’t see your friends… well, they probably skipped the classes since some of them are careless just like that.

"it’s about to start" sunoo smiled gently and you noticed the way his ebony gaze lingered on you for a while longer. great, you should’ve put at least some foundation.

"thanks" you nodded and took out your ipad, the other hand rubbing your eye. here we go…

"i feel like… some people in this class don’t take my lessons seriously" the professor started and you froze, heart skipping a beat. he couldn’t possibly mean you, right? “the final exam is around the corner and some of you… did not too well on the quiz"

oh, well. it’s definitely aimed at you.

"i’ll hand them out at the end of the class and then run over your mistakes. now we’ll do a revision. and you better listen" the man says and you could swear his piercing gaze is drilling into your soul.

an unpleasant feeling of warmth creeped into your face and once again you curse yourself for not putting any makeup. sunoo glanced at you, a sad smile on his lips.

the professor approached you at the end, when all of the students already left. putting the paper sheet with a nasty P– on it, you frowned. hey, you passed!

"y/n, i’m really disappointed. i don’t know what’s going on but that’s the worst work of yours so far. pull yourself together. there’s so many major mistakes… spellings… it’s not an academic level. you were one point away from not passing this one" his words hit a cord in your heart, your palms beginning to sweat. he patted the paper and returned to his desk, grabbing his stuff.

and you didn’t even know when that happened – your sweaty palms shaking, breath getting stuck in your throat, vision blurry because of tears.

you packed your things and wanted to leave but your legs felt too weak. your professor left, causing you to end up all alone in the room.

you sniffed, trying to wipe out the tears but they seemed to have other plans.

"don’t cry, idiot. it’s fucking embarrassing" you breathed out to yourself, voice barely above a whisper.

"y/n, if you want… oh. are you okay?"

you would normally look up to see who that was but the realization of someone even seeing you in such state caused your face to redden even more. pulling your t-shirt up to hide your face in it, you felt like there was no way out: you couldn’t possibly stop crying. it was like your professor’s words triggered something.

"i’m… hey, it’s okay. did he say anything bad to you? or do?" someone approached you and you shook your head as a no. "can i stay here?"

you hesitantly peeled from your shirt and noticed sunoo. his gaze softened upon seeing your teary eyes, lashes wet and flushed face.

"just… don’t mind me" you mumbled and hid your face in your shirt again. you just couldn’t stand someone seeing you in such state, whether it was someone close or a stranger.

"i… i don’t know what he said but i’ve noticed that there’s something going on with you. and may have heard what your friends said... do you want to talk about it?" sunoo asked gently and all he could hear were the harsh sobs leaving your lips.

"they talk about me behind my back?" you whined, your shoulders shaking even more. his eyes widened. that was not the best thing to say…

"no, no! i mean they said you look really tired lately…" he explained hastily and suddenly you looked up. your shirt was soaked with tears and your face was a mess, your pupils blown and wet stains on your cheeks.

"i’m so tired, sunoo. i don’t think i can handle this anymore… and everyone seems to be doing great… just not me…" you mumbled, sending him a sad smile. the pearly tears balanced at the edge of your waterline, ready to spill. he shook his head.

"you’ve got this, i know you do. you got here somehow in the first place, no? if you want, i can help you. with anything. i’m not the smartest but i do understand some things so…" he stopped talking upon seeing your curious gaze.

"why are you doing this?” you asked, sniffling.

"i just… you’re my classmate in a need of help. i couldn’t stand there and not do anything when i heard you cry. and now there’s no way out, isn’t it?" sunoo joked and his face lit up. oh, this boy was a literal sunshine.

"you said everything?" you mumbled, unsurely. he nodded, a caring smile tugging on his lips "can… hmpfh… can i hug you…?"

the words were so quiet, sunoo barely heard them. but he noticed the begging look in your eyes and who was he to deny? it’s not like he would mind, either.

sunoo just opened your arms and you hugged him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist. he patted your back soothingly, letting you let out all of your pent up stress.

a part of sunoo’s heart raced because he wouldn’t have ever imagined that he would hug his hallway crush. the other part which caused his heart to race was the embrace itself, your smell and you in general – and he was happy he could help you.

neither of you didn’t have to talk right now. a silent hug that expressed more than a sentences could ever. and both of you knew, sitting here glued to each other and in comfortable silence, that it was a beginning of a beautiful friendship.

masterlist <3

taglist. @primoppang ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @slytherinshua ,, @kazmura ,, @nicholasluvbot ,, @weird-bookworm ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ocean-minho ,, @s-e-s-a-l-e-n-e ,, @eternalgyu ,, @haecien

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tihgnari · 1 year

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ꕤ 44. a love stolen away (ღ)

tw: angst / wc: 743

the sky was colored cerulean, with minimal puffy white clouds floating about in a snail-like pace. it's a beautiful day today — perfect for picnics in the park with family, perfect for walking around the sidewalk with no particular goal but to feel the fresh breeze kiss your skin…

perfect for a wedding.

"say, ayaka, how long do you think their vows was for each other?"

ayaka, who had started her day banging her fist against the varnished wooden doors, stops to look at you incredulously. "dude, i'm literally trying to get us out of here. don't be so pessimistic at least!" the banging resumes, with two fists this time. "i'll get you out of here, okay? just wait, and you'll get your speak now moment!"

you didn't laugh. much less reacted, really. your eyes hold no light, and it's jarring seeing the contrast against the sunny day, almost as if the universe is making fun of your miserable state.

"i wonder what color his suit was. i think he looks rather dashing in white, then again i also think he can pull-off any color."

ayaka sighs, walking towards you with heavy steps. she crouches before you but you don't spare her a glance. "don't worry, yn, okay? we can—"

"if you do get us out, i want to fly back home. maybe all of this is sign that me and ayato were just never meant to happen. we're from two different worlds. after he graduates he'll be the president of a company, but when i graduate i'll just be some clumsy intern who works 9 to 5 and doesn't get paid half as much as the hours i put in."

ayaka feels a spark of irritation in her nerves and she's never want to slap some sense into you as much as she does now.

"yn, listen to me. what are you saying? don't give up yet—"

"coming here even made you fight with your grandfather. i don't want you to fight with your family."

"no," ayaka retaliates, stubborn. "first of all, you are more than what you think, yn. i genuinely don't think i would've survived college nor would i even be as mentally strong enough to even run as president! i am where i am now, because some god or deity above gave me an amazing friend. grandpa… needed to get that reality check that times are changing and he can't dictate what his grandchildren should do anymore."

you're silent, and ayaka would've thought you weren't listening if not for the glint of tears building in yours eyes.

"this is just so fucked up," you whispered. "i didn't even get the chance to explain. he got married thinking i never returned his feelings, and that's what hurts me the most."

"hey, hey, the ceremony won't start in…" ayaka looks over her shoulder on the small digital clock by the bedside table. "no less than three hours! we can still make it so don't speak like all hope's gone. just help me bust down this door and we can hail a cab, the venue isn't far from here so—"

"earlier this morning, while you were still sleeping, do you wanna know what your grandfather said to me before he left?"

truthfully, ayaka doesn't. "what?"

"the ceremony started this morning, at 9AM. they changed the time and had informed all the guests three days ago — except for you. he said he knew his grandchildren, and honestly? i think he really does…"

ayaka wants to pass out.

"…considering he knew ayato wouldn't spend a night in a room with the girl he's forced to marry and that you'd fly here with me to soil his plan. he knew everything. he caught ayato, and ordered him to text aoki that he was staying here when really, he was at another hotel. ayato's will is already broken down. your grandfather knew your brother won't run away, that he had no other option but to accept the marriage. while you, on the other hand…"

so that's why you looked lifeless, like you want to raise your white flag and fly back home tail in between your legs.

the first tear rolls down your cheeks. ayaka didn't want to imagine what you felt, of a love stolen away before it began.

"timecheck: its 12PM, and i've given my context. so answer my question, how long do you think their vows was for each other?"

LOWKEY » previous : masterlist : next

a kamisato ayato social media au

summary — it was only recently you found out kamisato ayaka was, in fact, not an only child after all! seeing ayato for the first time gave you the severest case of the butterflies but according to ayaka, he’s off limits, especially to you as her most treasured friend. well, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt, right?

notes — a wild rosie appears... and dips again for the next 5 mos /j

🏷 i. @rinrinchin @nejibot @viiolettee @katsumikumo @starryeyedkoko @xingqiusliegee @boxdisappeared @lovelyycherries @love6cks @kiyowoir @luvvmeilin @blackberri-jelli @moonlightbqe @kazooms @tricethecharm @lynnforever @kaedear @xiaoisahawtie @crowbird @apotatouwu @xinii @euryrue @aequha@nuttytani @plinkuro @aixaingela @milesluvrrad @windasteriaa @cherrytomato2 @zannivrs @eishtar @wccycc @ceylestia @sweet-almonds @queenaveryrules @veyu002 @ukinya @adeptusx @x-xxiaos @loveyoutothestars @ssalamanderr

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onyourhyuck · 1 year

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REPLAY. | Park Jisung (M)

prologue- “You’re so pretty.” + “Kiss me again. It was one of the best kisses I ever had...”

tw- where jisung loves his best friend’s older sister and he happens to finally confess. But Y/n is oblivious. Older girl x younger boy trope. Wholesome fluffy romance. Incredibly cheesy but wbk.

Notes- Noona Neomu YEOPEOOOOOO-

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Jisung’s heart will never give him a break it seems. At least not tonight, because he’s currently walking late at night with his long term crush since childhood. Jisung’s older brother is friends with Y/n, they’re the same age and they also happen to be roommates. They attend the same university as well. Jisung happened to be over at their house for tonight, others would be thinking he must really like his brother’s presence when in reality he came unannounced at your place just to see you.

Now you are strolling the streets on your way back home, with Jisung standing by your side with his large hands tuck in front jean pockets. You smile to yourself as you watch the younger boy.

He was quiet and mysterious, most people find him extremely intimidating for many reasons; he was really tall, detectable resting face and he never speaks because he’s got social anxiety and he’s shy personality wise. Big introvert too. But to you, you never seen him like that.

You are three years older than him. He’s just turned twenty and you’re twenty three. When he was really young you babysat him too. Your parents and his parents were high school friends and neighbours, growing up in the same town and neighbourhood was both a blessing and a curse.

A curse to jisung. You never once saw him as a man but the child you have the imagine of him stuck in your head to be. This annoys the boy so much, boils deep within him a burning rage to the bones, shaking him apart like an earthquake. Jisung is a patient man, it takes a lot to upset him. So the very front fact that he knows you only see him as this young boy and not the grownup man he is, truly upsets him. But you never seem to realise how angry this made him, because he never really openly admits it.

“Noona.” He calls out suddenly stopping. You hum against your teeth stopping on your heels and slowly turning around to face him as you held the plastic bag with the snacks and drinks. “What’s wrong?”

Thump. Thump. Thump. Ah there it is, his ole’ heart beating again but this time speeding like a racing car finishing a long term marathon. Even though he was an adult, Jisung feels like this giddy social anxiety you’d get from confessing to your crush comes back no matter what age you really are— the throat swells up going dry, the teeth clatter together like plates upon other dishes. Ears become boiling pots on stove, turning red, as well as his blossoming accurately shown cheeks in the streets lamp lighting covering by the darkness of the background surrounding you both.

He grows red just by his inner dialogue mentally preparing what to say. Even though he was practicing for this moment to get you alone, why did his voice become unstable, quick and stammer?

You raise your eyes at him, with a slight scold when looking down at the time on your phone screen. “Jisung we will be late and your brother will throw a tantrum if we don’t come back soon—”

“I like you!” Jisung exclaims.

Out of nowhere, you stumble back on your feet when following turning to face the boy now no longer to be interesting in returning back, but questioning the boy you see in front of you with a increasing amount of reddish cheeks, erupting on their way to fluster you too. Unsure why those three words meant a lot to you, you question your hearts intentions right there. Why did you like to hear this from him? What was your heart fluttering open like a blossoming rose under the moonlight as its only source of light mean to you? Perhaps,

Perhaps your heart always liked Jisung, but you never bothered listening to it. Only your head was controlling you. Making Jisung to be viewed as your friends little brother who you knew since childhood, baby sat him and did many activities together. Playing those childish hide and seeks, kicking about a football until late in the evening. Sleeping over at each other’s houses like it were your second home seems so, contemplating now.

When did you develop such strong feelings, butterflies slam on the pit of your hard skin to skin contacting stomach, ready to leave and screaming to escape when this anxiousness hit you. The minor silence sharing between the two, their breathes were talking however. Jisung’s harsh hitching breathing was held tightly inside his mouth when he saw your body take a step forward. second step forward. Then a third step forward, where with your hands wrapping round the hem of your palming hoodie.

But what if, this relationship could ruin everything? What if, this could really go in vain. What if, you break his heart into miniature pieces to the point of no return of having the same innocent heart he has now. Maybe, you weren’t the one for him. Those words echo in the back of your head like a penetrating gunshot blazing to your skin.

“Jisung I like you too of course, you’re my friends brother.” You force a friendly smile, a smile that shown no romantically feelings behind. Maybe, it’s better to flat out play dumb. This way, you’re protecting Jisung from getting his heart broken.

You’re not perfect and you admit it. Jisung might not realise that you’re probably not worth his time. He’s finally starting university this year, and you’re soon to leave the university with your degree. You will be working an actual job nine to five, unable to focus on dating. As will he too, university is much more versatile and tricky to handle. Deadlines are to be made on the same day sometimes. Sleepless nights will happen very soon for Jisung. And he will have to focus on every little class he will get.

You’re only going to hold him back. Right?

Jisung’s face darkly falters as he faces you with a hint of bafflement. How could you, out of all people, you, push away his feelings so easily? You’re smiling so heavenly at him, showing your perfect teeth while you’re at it flashing him your beautiful eyes. Under this midnight starry moonlight was a boiling volcano of his feelings ready to burn you alive.

He looks down at his shoes when you turn to walk away. Then he remembered, he cannot hold anymore to this image you have of him. Jisung has to prove to you, that he is not a little kid that you seem to see him as, and he most definitely will not allow you to push away his feelings like it meant nothing to you. The boy swore, he saw your eyes sparkle at his confession, he saw the way your eyes widened, jisung saw your eyebrows lift up to the sky and your ears perking up similar to a cat.

By the time you turned your back to him, you swung back with a strong arm-like force pulling you round as if you were a blunt fire pit of sun and he was the rotating planet he resolved around with. As if, you were the only thing that mattered to him. The touch sparkles a bristling fire on your warm skin, sharing your heat with the boy who flys close.

Lips touching yours for a minute. The softness and pluckiness leaving you crazy, you swore a minute never felt so short, Y/n finds herself running back for more. Wanting more. The soft kiss felt so, loving, you never realised how much love he has poured for you all his life; you’d have to say, you felt touched and flattering by this.

When the boy pulled away catching a breathe with you, he carries on talking like a wild boar running around crazily. It was like this time he really cannot hold on anymore. Jisung was a crumbling old ruin, breaking down more. It’s been one many years,too many.

“In this situation I’m not his brother. I am your friend who has fallen for you deeply and I can’t go pretending I don’t have feelings for you anymore, Y/n. I like you all along, for years, I tried my best to show you how I feel and you still don’t get it.” He huffs out a silent scream. How your heart clenched for him.

“Can you just for tonight, not look at me as this little boy and please. View me as a man who’s deeply in love with you. Can you please do that tonight.” He urges on, like he wasn’t going to see tomorrows light. You bite on your bottom lip watching him up close, fuck, why are you seriously checking him out now.

Oh how badly you wish to kiss him again. But at what costs? How will his brother who is your friend react to you dating his little sibling? Does he even approve of you as a girlfriend? He knows all your exes and situation-ships that never made it to the dating zone. But the temptation was so strong, you find yourself swirling around Jisung like a little helpless fly zooming in his left and right ears.

Slowly your lips part, “Kiss me again. It was one of the best kisses I ever had...”

As he did oblige with pleasure, creeping a soft smile inside the softly placing kiss on your lips, it soon turned into this much more mature steaming session in middle of nowhere practice as the fallen grocery bag rests in between your bodies. Big hands on your face, covering your entirety of the apple cheeks and jawline. Your hair flows back against the harsh wind blowing jisung’s black bangs upwards. The way your face was so flushed in colour amazes him, was this the effect he has on you? Did he really hear those words correctly.

Best kisses you ever had? The proudness of this was so real in him. He takes pride in being the best of the best you will ever have and Jisung, will never let another man step inside that circle.

Pulling apart from the shared make-out, one long string of saliva connects the two of you, smokey air leaving his lips when he left your lips from practically inhaling you, it was like he cannot get enough of you. The taste. The way you feel. The way his emotions keep igniting him up inside like he was a match stick. Brushing past his thumb on the bottom of your lip, he grazes it softly, driving you to the edge crazily. Something in you must of snapped like a freelancing twig in middle of nowhere.

You pull Jisung down when suddenly the courage you found takes over your body completely. You want this boy, you thought in your head. You want him. Pulling him down when finally latching to the front collar of his hoodie’s two long strings. He follows down your silhouette strength by the pull, landing on your lips. Jisung, never felt so bewildered in his life. Your lips softly slid in as did your tongue pushing on top of the roof of his mouth. Teasingly you press him onto the nearest tree surface where he felt trapped in your presence and energy suffocating him from the inside than outside. His chest clenches tight, Jisung naturally follows his body’s instincts and pulls you closer by the waist.

Hands on your waistline like they belonged there, when he had you pulled in, you gasp at such actions in the kiss but did not dare break away. He felt your surprising voice, in which he lowly growls when you finally clasp your hands on his face quickly and hungrily speed the kiss up. Your heartbeats were ticking bombs, ready to explode any minute.

Jisung was so lost in you, in so deep that he couldn’t see the light anymore.

You pull away first, even surprised that you found the resistant to even leave him alone considering you were hungrily eating his lips out like you were personally starved for decades. When doing so, he was lowly opening his eyes with yours, looking at you with soft lustful eyes.

You hear him speak, like he was absolutely done for. “You’re so pretty.” Jisung tells. “Fuck.” He gasps, when feeling the way he was so content with joy. He might not be able to date you, but he never felt so satisfied and heard about his feelings than before. This was like a jackpot, to him. He’s doomed. There is no saving him. It’s not like he wants to be saved either.

You felt a chill sent to your body as his forehead rests on your shoulder. He was slouching down against the tree with his head buried in your right shoulder completely, suddenly the hands on your waist tighten pulling you closer into an embrace . Somehow, you felt a smile creeping on your face and the blush travelling on your cheeks to your ears brightly bruising them with the infectious reddish pink colour. He murmurs, even the way his deep voice rolls your name off his tongue.

Why didn’t you realise it sooner, how attractive he can be. How in love he was with you. “Let’s say like this forever please. I don’t want to leave you.”

You found yourself relating hard his words. “Mhm, sure. Let’s stay here.” You whisper wrapping arms around his body back.

You find yourself wanting to do the same. To stay in his hold forever.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank you. Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out.

#nct fanfiction #nct smut #nct x reader #nct u scenarios #nct hard hours #nct series #jisung hard hours #jisung fanfic #park jisung fluff #jisung hard thoughts #jisung fluff #nct hard thoughts #nct dream hard thoughts #nct drabbles

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firelonewolf · 1 year

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Being in the Fog and being married to Chris R. And having a history with Wesker would include:

A/n: Listen, I haven't seen this. I'm not into Wesker, but I'm a sucker for a hero and villain into the same person. And because I haven't seen this, I think? I have decided to do it myself. I know, it's long. I didn't think I could crank this out this much. Here you go, enjoy.

1998

Living in RE universe before the Fog was interesting. You're life was normal, technically everything was normal before the year, of 1998.

You were a member of S.T.A.R.S at the time. And you were hired by Albert Wesker.

And because of this, you had an interesting relationship with the captain.

You're partner was Rebecca, you were usually counted on to aid in her in the field. Not that you minded though, she was like you're sister.

But before Rebecca Chambers joined S.T.A.R.S you were often assigned by Weskers side. You weren't co-captain, just more so his partner sort of.

From you're first day at S.T.A.R.S Chris tried to hit on you but you returned his flirty attempts to sassy sarcastic response.

That's where the friendship starts here. Over time, you and Chris developed a friendship. One of trust and love.

Chris would do little things as you're friend, like- help you tie you're hair. Because of one day.

"Do you need help?" Chris asked seeing as you were struggling tying you're hair when while in deep thought. Tearing yourself away from you're thoughts you glanced at him at you're third attempt.

"You know how to put hair up, Redfield?" You asked amused by this.

"I have a younger sister." He remarks and proceeds to help you.

Chris knows how to braid and tie hair, Claire made him do it. Tell me I'm wrong. The man knows how to do it, and he can paint nails. He's done it for Claire a lot.

Is it you're time of the month and Jill or Rebecca isn't around to spare you anything? Say the word, Chris will run and get some for you.

Do you want a drink or snack? He will go get you some.

Wesker has witnessed this, and yes, he does not like it. So he does other things for you.

He will get you a coffee, or it's Chris. Who ever gets there first.

He doesn't go tough on you compare to the others, well its a wild card. Sometimes he's nice, other times- he's just flat tough.

Wesker also likes to spar you with. So does Chris, but he usually tries to snatch you. Since you're the quickest.

In Spencer's Mansion though when that happened, you ended up going with Chris to investigate. While Brad left you guys stranded.

Wesker tried to prevent you going, but he was no match against you're protest.

Throughout the night you and Chris got separated twice. Each time you managed to rescue Chris.

Ngl, man didn't mind being saved. He couldn't help but have his heart swell at this.

Both of you kept trying to find Jill and the rest of you're time but it was tough. Until you both ran into Rebecca, and you saved her.

But as the nightmare continued with you're whole time getting wiped out you grew enraged at discovering Wesker was behind all of this.

Regardless, Chris's stuck with you when you both discovered Wesker behind it. You asked him what you both will do about it, and he took you're hand. "I don't know, but it's you and I against the world. For better and for worst. I'm getting you out of here."

Before confronting Wesker you stopped him with Rebecca. "Hey, Chris?"

He turned to you concerned. "Yeah?"

"If we get out of here, do you wanna go to Oregon? We could go for a vacation. At least for a bit." You remarked to him.

Chris smiled at this and took you're hand again. "Yeah, after all of this we will go to Oregon."

When confronting Wesker, you were shot in the chest. It happened because you scolded him, "Wesker you wretched snake! Fuck you. You killed them all."

As Wesker aimed his gun at you, he gripped the gun tightly. "You don't understand, (Y/n). You don't understand any of this, yet." BANG!

Chris saw this, he was horrified, enraged and full of sorrow at this. He wanted to help you but Wesker prevented it as you bled out.

Right before his eyes all memories of you the daydream to help him out of this nightmare was tainted. He thought about driving off to Oregon with you on the bike. Now it's gone.

At the end of Chris fighting Tyrant, he tried to check for you're pulse. But nothing, Rebecca crying tried stop the bleeding. Before telling Chris they have to go.

As much as Chris hated it, he had to leave you dead on the floor right near Wesker.

Leaving the mansion and you were difficult for him. On the helicopter as it blew, he wanted to cry because he left you. He couldn't go back to even retrieve you're body to give you a proper burial.

You're funeral was the toughest time for him. It was rainy and he had to watch an empty coffin go into the ground.

You were just a sinking ship he couldn't let go at this point for how much he thought of you every single day.

2009

Chris drank quite a bit, before deciding that instead of drinking, he should do something about Umbrella.

So he did, Chris left to go to Europe.

Throughout the years you haunted his mind. He constantly thought about you and the others. Mostly you though.

Afterwards he found out Wesker was alive. To where he lost Jill. He couldn't take this.

That's when he met Sheva, and began to track down Wesker.

Eventually when catching up with Wesker he found out one thing. Jill's alive and he found a picture of you in the computers.

Finding out Jill might be alive it gave him hope. But Sheva saw how his face changed when he saw a picture of you with a bio on you.

Sheva questioned who you were, and Chris didn't want to answer. And that's when he couldn't stop thinking about you again, what happened and all the time you shared.

This was when he encountered Jill, Wesker and another member of Weskers party. One who he kept encountering and giving him a struggle in a fight.

Wesker smirked at this opportunity to crush Chris. "Chris, I'm so happy you could make it for the reunion in time."

Reunion? Chris was confused as Jill was revealed into being one of the masked individuals.

And then, Wesker uncloaked the individual beside him. Revealing you, you're hair turned to a silver color. You still looked the same as to when he last saw you.

Wesker kissed you're hand, which made Chris livid at this. "Wesker, what have you done? You killed her! You cloned her, you sick bastard!"

Wesker chuckled at this. "Oh no, Chris, this isn't a clone. I'm afraid I prefer the original."

Chris couldn't believe this, but you died. He saw you die! "You killed her, you must've gone senile!"

That's when Wesker revealed something. He shot you near you're heart, he didn't kill you. But when they were leaving Wesker took the opportunity to stablize you're wound long enough.

Wesker carried you out of Spencer Mansion fending off the both of you.

Umbrella managed to save you're life, and in returned Wesker injected you a virus. And you're hair began to change to the silver it is now.

He managed to get you to be like Jill, under his control, but not complete. You were Weskers partner in a way, his queen to his sick world.

This is where we gotta be honest. Wesker spoiled you, he gave you all sorts of gifts. Every time you fought back from his control he never physically harmed you. Just told you how you were the perfect match for him.

And over time, you took his affections and returned them. But in a way, you were brainwashed. You're memories had holes in them. Something was missing.

He also often took you everywhere with him and discussed plans together.

He also never let anyone hit on you. You are his and only his, forget about everyone else.

Remember Excella? Yeah, when she was getting touchy Albert. You almost broke her into two.

But Albert reassured you how you are his and he is yours. He was found it amusing. He kind of loved seeing you're wrath and jealously.

Liked seeing how ruthless you could be in battle. He enjoyed seeing how incredibly powerful you were.

He did get annoyed if you got in a fight him and tried to tell him off.

Often though, he'd watch as you became a wildfire to a forest. Usually though, he would pamper you to receive you're forgiveness.

This guy yelling at you're Albert seemed familiar. But why?

You didn't focus on it after Albert kissed you, "Pet, would you kindly take care of Chris?" Mindlessly you agreed, and attempted to fight Chris.

Fighting with Albert and Jill things seem to have gone easy until Jill seemed off. She was snapping out of it. Despite Albert's wishes.

Before Albert left he trusted you to take care of Chris and Sheva.

But while fighting Chris he managed restrain you by himself. And made you think of time before he lost you.

As you tried to fight off his restraint he thought about it, "Oregon. D-do you remember that?"

"Its a state, you asshole!" You said as you tried to fight back.

"You and I were going to go there! Do you remember that? You and I, we were gonna go to Oregon for vacation after we got out of the mansion. Do you remember that? I do!"

That's when it clicked when thought about it. Oregon, you made that promise with someone. That's when it clicked, you made that with Chris.

You stared at him, "Chris." You said recalling all of you're memories with him.

You helped him get Jill to snap out.

Quickly you and Jill cooked up a plan to take down Wesker.

Come to the end, when Wesker almost got Chris, you stood right before him shielding Chris. With a rocket launch in you're hand.

Albert frowned at this. And as he tried to be sweet and set you back, you objected to his advances. You killed him.

On the helicopter out of the volcano you guys ended up in, you leaned your head on Chris shoulder.

After 2009

After the events of RE5, you and Chris married. You became Mrs. Redfield, a respected operative.

Yours and Chris marriage was one of the best ways to end a chapter of a nightmare.

You both moved out to the countryside since Chris loved taking you on bike rides to that side.

But it doesn't stop either of you from having horrible dreams of Wesker and mansions all of the events after the year.

You had dreams and memories to your time with Wesker.

Wesker was an ambitious man, but it didn't stop him from treating you. He called you "pet" often. Which looking back on it, it made you feel like an object.

But it didn't stop you from remembering him. He was a cruel man, but there were just times he only showed slight softness.

Like when he got stressed out, he liked resting his head on your stomach.

Other times, he just liked going on walks with you. He didn't mind having a conversation with you from time to time.

There's nothing like talking about kids or marriage, though. You asked him about it once, but he said he'd just focus on his work. He's not really a family man.

Sometimes, you woke up in a sweat of having dreams of being stuck with him.

But Chris usually helped you relax and forget them.

This is a big difference between your relationship with Wesker and Chris. Wesker is unpredictable, distant even when he is close, and Chris, on the other hand, is close.

Chris also isn't focused on work solely now that you're in his life. Wesker was focused on nothing but his plans.

With Wesker, things felt as if he wasn't all in with the relationship, even if it was kind of against your will.

Chris is all in, though. Without a question, he sees you as his first priority and works as a second.

With Chris, you can see a family in the future. So can he! He talked about wanting a daughter.

He's trying to make it happen.

One night, though, you woke up from having a dream about Albert Wesker. In the dream, you had a dream of him looking for you around RPD. Calling your pet in the process as he called out for you.

You woke up when he caught you telling how you can't hide forever.

Waking up, you heard piano songs. Particularly a song you recognized, "Moonlight, Sonta." You tried to wake up, Chris, but you couldn't. Taking matters in your own hands, you brought out your handgun and a flashlight.

Leaving yours and Chris's bedroom, you shined a light finding the source of the music. You don't remember having a piano in the house.

Glancing around you see if a CD or the TV was on, it wasn't. Everything was pitch black.

Your heart began to beat a lot. Rapidly. You shook a little but kept strong. Stepping outside, you stepped in the driveway.

But you couldn't find the source, you were so confused. Where was it coming from?

Looking around for something and anything. You searched before a black fog formed at your feet.

Something told you to run, and as you tried, the fog grew bigger. You ran towards the porch yelling for Chris. But soon, it blurred your vision.

In The Fog

One moment you were investigating for the piano music, and the next you woke up in the woods.

It was nighttime, as you sat up wondering where you were you saw that you were sporting old gear. This was yours S.T.A.R.S gear. You haven't seen this in a long time.

Confused, you then touched and looked at your hair. It was tied in a ponytail. Looking at it, you saw the color of it, and your heart dropped at the color. It wasn't silver.

Sure, you dyed it to you're original but it always bled out. And you were going to redo it, but you didn't get the time. Now it's the original hair color. Why?

As you stood up, you shined your flashlight around. Were you dreaming again? "Chris!" You called out to the dead of night.

Running through the fog, you called out, hoping he'd be somewhere. Anywhere.

Shining you're light, you panicked at this, "wake up!" You tell yourself with tears. "Wake up! You're dreaming. This isn't real. This isn't real. CHRIS!" You called out further into the darkness.

You began to cry at this. Until you tripped and saw a campfire. You saw a bunch of people who were spooked at the sight of you.

Soon enough, you explained that you were taken by the entity. As all of them tried to explain, you suddenly asked, "Have you seen a man? Tall. About 6ft. Brunette. His muscular. Brown eyes. American."

"I've never seen a guy like that. Why? What's it to you if we have?" This woman in a fluffy jacket with a ruffled shirt asked. She had a Korean accent.

"His name is Chris. Chris Redfield! He's my husband. I'm (Y/n) Redfield." You said getting a little frustrated.

"No, I'm sorry, lady." Someone in a white button-up shirt said he had a black tie and glasses.

With tears in your eyes, you stayed on your knees looking at your hand. You stared at them, seeing the only thing that remained from the old world is the ring.

A woman came up to you, and she kneeled beside you. She had dreads, and they were tied up and blue lens glasses. She had a pink shirt. "Hey, it's okay. We've all lost something here." She said, placing a hand on you're shoulder.

You cried like a baby for what felt an hour. 11 years, you were brainwashed and with Albert, 11 years away from Chris.

It felt like you just got him back. And now he's gone again. All because some sick creature wanted you tortured.

Chris, on the other hand, woke up that night seeing you were gone. He heard you calling and began to look for you with his gun in hand and a flashlight.

He didn't stop looking for you that night. He cried and began to be angry with the world. 11 years, you were gone, and you returned. And now something took you away.

It felt like years of him looking for you again. Until one night after 2 months of you being gone, particularly on July 24th. He's riding his bike home, thinking about you.

That was until he saw a fog in the middle of the road. Stopping, he was confused about why this fog seemed so thick? There was no weather report of a fog tonight.

Chris then heard something that made his heart drop. There was something he recognized in the distance. "Moonlight, Sonata" by Betovan.

He hasn't heard that since the mansion, as the fog rolled in as he processed, he didn't realize as it blocked his vision. That's when he heard a familiar voice. "Alright, team, you know the drill!"

"(Y/n)?!" Chris suddenly called out. He didn't hesitate running into the fog.

Your and Chris reunion was something. Chris saw right before his eyes RPD. He was in the main lobby room. But no, this was impossible. RPD was destroyed with Raccoon City.

That's when he saw a generator? This wasn't in the original station. There's meat hooks too!

"Chris?!" A familiar voice spoke out. He turned to see Leon in his rookie uniform.

"Leon?" He remarks.

"Chris?!" Another voice exclaimed. Sporting a blue shirt and black jeans with Jill.

"What are you guys doing here?" Chris inquired before they heard monstrous foot steps.

Before he could get an answer, he heard it, "STARS!" A voice yelled he saw Nemesis running into the room.

"Run, Chris!" Jill yelled.

Nemmy chased him down and almost caught up to him, he was about to punch him before someone interfered.

Chris heard a familiar yelp. He turned from heading to the balcony and saw you. Wearing that old S.T.A.R.S uniform looking like how you did in 1998.

He couldn't believe it. It was you, "STARS!" Nemmy yelled at you as you stumbled up the stairs.

"Hey, asshat! Remember me? I'm the one who hit your head!" You yelled, challenging the Nemesis. Who stared at you. "Aw, so you're not blind." You smirked. You're face fell as your eyes met Chris, "get out of here. Go find Leon, I'll see you at the campfire."

Before Chris could protest, Nemesis attempted to punch you again. You slid dodging it. "Aww, you missed me!" You antagonized him.

"STARS!" He yelled again. You sprinted to the library without a second thought. Nemmy is being hot on your trails.

Throughout the trial, Chris couldn't believe he saw you. He must be dreaming. But Jill dragged him out of the exit gates despite not seeing you.

Despite how worried he was, he stopped the moment he woke up at the campfire.

He was searching for you until he heard something that confused him. "Redfield is back, guys!" One of the people yelled.

For a moment, he thought they were talking about him before he saw you. An injury was on the sides, as you held it, walking to the group.

"Redfield is hurt!" A older man exclaimed with a cigarette in his mouth.

Chris saw you and pushed through the crowd. He saw you standing amongst a bunch of people.

He froze seeing you again. Your hair is loose and messy with a cut on the side of your head. He smiled at the sight of you. "I'm dreaming," he said seeing you.

"Hey babe," you remarked back to him with a smile.

Chris immediately hugged you. You winced, given the cut on your side. But it didn't matter. Your husband was back.

The reunion of Jill, Leon, Claire, and you was interesting.

You explained the Entity's realm to them, each giving them a crash course of almost everybody you know.

Honestly, Chris only half listened. He saw you, and the world felt sane again. He had you back regardless if you're in some crazy world.

In the Entity's realm, you often give Chris gifts and patch him up when he's injured.

You both always stick by each other. Despite how Chris notices some of the guys in the Fog, look at you. But you've noticed how the woman looked at him.

Often between trials, you both sit by the fire. Chris tells you a lot of stories, and you do the same.

Often in trials, you both focus on rescuing the others. But when it comes to each other, it's mostly fighting.

Sometimes, the killers try to avoid it when both of you are in a trial.

Meanwhile, Oni and Nurse find it funny. They'll watch sometimes.

Chris gives you gifts a lot. There are lots of flash lights and medkits.

A lot of the survivors are a little jelly since you both married outside of the realm and together.

But a lot of them find you both adorable!

Wesker arriving

Wesker's arrival was world changing for you and basically the whole squad. Rebecca showed up, and Ada. Following were Carlos and Sheva.

At first, you were all confused. Why were you all ending up here?

But the reunion with Rebecca was nice. You both hugged and began to catch up together.

But for Wesker, the last thing he saw was you aiming for the rocket launcher at him. Ready to kill him. But then a fog blocked his vision.

Before he knew it, he landed in a familiar place.

He was in S.T.A.R.S office, but something was different. Some of it was trashed to the ground. Then, he saw it. On the desk covered in CDs and by Chris R. leather jacket.

On his desk was a picture. He's never had this. The picture was of his wedding to you.

As he stared at it through his black sunglasses, his eyes became a glowing red. He gripped the photograph before throwing it on the floor. No, this thing is taunting him.

You were his. Not Chris, and this Entity was mocking him. He is livid at this.

He began to stop through the halls of RPD. Until he makes his way to the staircase of the lobby. From the library, he sees a familiar face.

You. Beside you was Leon, you were about to enter the below west side of the map. "Redfield!" Leon says, you turn to him before Leon gives you a flash bang. You smiled, Weskers fist clench, "I have more. I'll go find a gen, we'll split up for a bit." He says before scurring away.

Wesker watched as you made your way to the east wing of the map. He decided to go to Leon, a reunion with you could wait.

Throughout the round, you worked on a gen, not seeing Albert anywhere.

But it got odd that almost everyone was taken out in the match. All of them dropped one after the other.

You couldn't put a finger on who it was.

But in your attempt to rescue Chris, whose aura you saw from across the map.

You wasted no time sprinting to him. You stepped on the rainy balcony. You saw the person in leather, slick back blonde hair and glasses. You were horrified to see Albert there.

Albert smirked at this, "Hello, my pet." He says to you. You attempted to hit him, but he threw you to the other side. Right by the crashed helicopter.

You saw Chris punch Wesker. His glasses fell off as he grabbed him by the throat. "Time to die, Chris."

He threw him before finishing him off. You saw it happen in horror. Wrath took you insued in you.

"Hello, my pretty pet." He tells you, you forced yourself on your feet.

You weren't injured by the throw, but you saw uroboros on you. You panicked at the sight. "You haven't aged a day." He tells you. "Too bad you married, poor pathetic Chris."

Tears in your eyes, you stared at Chris corpse. "You bastard, you're dead. Why are you here?"

"My sweet pet, why else wouldn't I be here? I heard you in the Fog. So I came and what do I see? A disgusting wedding photo of you with Chris in S.T.A.R.S office."

You froze at that. There was a picture of your wedding? That was never there until now. Was the entity trying to provoke Albert?

"Fuck you, I love him." You spat him.

Out of anger, Wesker grabbed you by the throat. "You are mine! How dare you think otherwise!"

He threw you down the staircase, and you rolled down the steps. You winced at the pain, and you struggled getting up. "I always have liked seeing you struggle. I expected more a challenge, though," he says.

You remembered the flash bang in your pocket as he got close. You threw it down and began to run to the east police office hallway.

"You'll pay for that!" Wesker exclaims.

Sprinting, you tried to outrun until he caught up throwing you down. You tried to crawl away from him.

"I've always liked seeing you below me." He remarks as he pins you to the floor. "Still beautiful pet, and the uniform still fits. Perfect," he says, brushing a strand of hair out of your face.

"Don't touch me," you hissed.

"I don't like your tone, pet." He says until he places a kiss on your lips. "But I'm afraid we're out of time. I expect to see you soon, though." Placing a quick one with a smirk. "And don't hold back next time. You are my worthy counterpart." Then he killed you.

Waking up at the campfire, you were hyperventilating. You could still remember how he kissed you.

Then you saw Chris. Instinctively, you got up and kissed him. Tears streaming down your eyes, you stared into his eyes. Before holding his face. "I'm so sorry," you told him.

Chris immediately asked, "Are you okay? He hurt you didn't he?"

"He's already hurt me." You remarked Chris noticed the bruise forming your neck. "I'll be fine. I'm sorry, I should've saved you."

Chris stared at it before pulling you in a tight hug. "I'm never letting him touch you again," he says dead serious.

Wesker in the realm now as a killer. And he's here. He's treating you the same regardless of you killing him. Chris was livid, though and you didn't know what to do.

You had your husband and your old captain, whom you sort of had a relationship with. Who's also ready to encounter to see you already. What were you going to do?

#chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x you #chris redfield dbd #dead by daylight fanfic #dead by daylight #dead by daylight headcanons #albert wesker #albert wesker x reader #albert wesker x you #the mastermind x reader #resident evil x reader #albert wesker dbd

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ohheyjudesummers · 1 year

Text

Pride Aside - Gojo Satoru fanfic

Generally, this story is Minors DNI. 18+ PLEASE (but this first part doesn’t rightly need a warning since its set in the past while they’re young with nothing inappropriate)

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen (As regular humans for the most part with little to no/nonexistent cursed energy or sorcerer ability. Some supernatural abilities are present).

Character: Gojo Satoru (As he is currently in JJK221 as of right now. Meaning some spoilers as far as his *New appearance* but not regarding the office JJK plot line story and character outcomes/circumstances)

Summary: It’s always come natural for you to look out for your little brother (by a couple of short years) and even his best friend, Gojo-or at least it used to come naturally when you guys were kids. Now as Adults, Gojo is womanizing, flippant, cocky, and tends to play agitator; and while you still care about him, sometimes it isn’t the easiest being around him.

Even so, you still care about Gojo. You’ve seen vulnerable sides of him that he’s never shared with anyone and provide a listening ear to him when he needed. You wouldn’t of quite described him as a second brother, but you did feel an attachment and appreciation toward him; and you imagined he felt the same.

So, for the life of you, you can’t figure out why his behavior has shifted toward you. His smile towards you always seems to have a hidden cruelness in it, his stare, if hes not busy overlooking you, feels as if tis piercing through you when no one is looking. And when-IF-he talks to you? its feels damn near condescending. It’s as if hes trying to make you annoyed on purpose to get a rise out of you…or maybe it’s something much more personal that he’s been harboring over the years.

General author’s note: If you've read any of my previous stories or even my original works, you'll know that I typically write stories with girls of my culture in mind (even if it’s X reader) so by default, my stories are black!coded /implied. While I can’t control who reads my work and I do write for the women in my culture to be represented and be included! Not necessarily to exclude anyone.

I’m not typically against anyone reading my stories with respect . I believe people are capable of reading and enjoying interactive literature or general writings, even if the coded/implied “Y/N" or character doesn’t look like them (Especially since girls of my own culture have had to silently use their imaginations to feel included in stories coded for lighter audiences or readers) However, I will still continue to use and include black and POC fem tags to make it easier for my people to find stories.

Also, my fanfiction stories can be found on both Wattpad and Archive of Our Own, as well as on Tumblr (all linked on my page). Thanks so much for reading!

Also like my other fan fictions, I’m not sure if there will be a second part to this one. it depends on both my imagination and the genuine responses/interactions towards it.

As of this moment (I’m writing this 4/20/2023* this is important cause as we know, Gege could add more info to the JJK universe) we don’t really know about Gojo’s family life in depth at this moment. but even so, the info written about his backstory in this fan fiction is crafted by me *along with some other info* and is no way associated with his actual official story.

Some notables in this chapter: Black!reader, Hockeyplayer!Gojo, Jock!Gojo, slight age gap as well. Slow burn, and a bit of fluff. Think of this chapter as building a foundation for the next installment. <3

❣

*Some time ago*

Even the gloomy gray skies outside your window couldn't keep you from smiling as you admired your masterpiece in front of you.

“Finally got it right! Drew is going to love this!” You gushed, slowly spinning the revolving cake stand.

It wasn't just years and passion that made you such a dedicated and aspiring baker, but the circumstances: it was your little brother's birthday tomorrow. Even though you loved your brother to death, you knew he could be a picky eater. While he's never complained about your baking, you didn't want to give him any reason to start.

Before he left a few days ago to be with your father and his smother, he kept dropping hints at how much he wanted to try homemade Tres Leches cake topped with fruit. Most would have been annoyed with their younger sibling ‘pushing’ at them to work on their days off, you were silently grateful. Drew, as annoying as he could be, was actually quite considerate when it came to you. He had given you something to keep you occupied while he was away. Sure, you had your part-time job, but you were on break from classes and had more time to think about your late mother than usual this time of year.

Your step mother, Drew’s mom, was a nice lady and always open to you as a daughter, but she wasn’t your mom-not that you were looking for a replacement. You always found yourself apprehensive about family life as a whole. But at the same time wanting it. Because of this, you always got an array of conflicting feelings. Mainly, they consisted with being both content with being along in your apartment after Drew finished his stay (for however long he decided) and lonely when he went back home.

Even though your dad wasn’t keen on the idea of you moving out so early when you just turned 18, he navigated through this as best as he could. He was always proactive in making sure you knew he was there and that Drew was allowed to stay over at your spacious apartment usually whenever. However, Drew’s schedule has become more rigid this holiday due to hockey practice. But now, he had some time spare and asked for a specially made cake- the perfect motivation for you to zone out and kick you in gear.

The size you made in front of you wasn't overtly large compared to the other you had sitting in the fridge, which is fine considering this was a tester. You wanted to test the aesthetics Outside, it looked good; the perfect amount of cream topping was added, and it didn't appear soggy. The only thing that made a frown twitch at the corner of your lips was the fruit topping, a cherry. It wasn't as if it weren't aesthetically pleasing. You actually liked the idea of adding fruit to the top; you just knew Drew didn't like cherries; he was more of a strawberry guy.

“No worries, I’ll use the last few I have for the official cake in the fridge.” You say, lifting your spirits back up. “For now, it won't hurt to have some of this for myself."

Just as you're about to pick up a nearby fork, a ripple of knocks comes at your front door. Your brows furrow as you take a glance at the clock: 7:30 p.m. Not inordinately late for someone to stop by, but one look outside the window would leave one to believe that not even delivery would feel inclined to go out in the sudden downpour.

More knocks come at the door, just as light but more rapidas the ones before.

“Y/n? Are you home? It's me."

Me?

You recognize the voice.

Stepping away from the counter, you take the disposable mesh net off your head of curls, tossing it in the trash. Once you untie your waist apron and drape it on a chair, you step across your apartment's threshold to the front door. When you swing it open, you're met with a pair of piercing ocean blue eyes staring up at you.

Gojo. Drew’s best friend, and teammate on his hockey team. Drew did ask earlier this week if his friend could stay over for a bit. Even if, as a younger teen his independence was peculiar to you, it wasn’t an anomaly for him to stay at your place shortly before Drew came by. Or to just sleep over entirely when he was here. You didn’t know exactly where Gojo’s family stayed but you imagined it didn’t much matter since Drew did live a bit further than both of you. Because of this it was easier for Gojo to use your spot as a meeting place for himself. so, he tended to come over whenever he pleased.

On one end you didn’t mind this. But on another, Gojo’s free ability to roam wherever, was interesting from a certain perspective; a paternal one. From what you gathered, Gojo himself and his family weren’t really normal. You never bother to push on the subject. This was only because you didn’t notice any real red flags in his overall condition. His bottomless appetite *for sweets especially* you learned, was not out of malnourishment but more so gluttony (You’ve seen the size of his school lunches before. And he was always clothed and cleaned-even though he had this annoying habit of preferring to using the bath at your place. You didn’t know why at first, until you realized your favorite shea butter, honey scented body wash was depleting faster than normal. Initially you had suspected Drew but then you remembered his preference in scent was something more ‘manly’ as he put it.

Be this as it may, He hardly seemed eager in elaborating on his mannerisms and family life. Maybe it didn’t matter much.

He always seemed in high spirits and overall fine. Much like now.

A wide, Cheshire grin appears across his face—a typical greeting of him.

“You’re here a bit early this time, Gojo. Drew doesn’t come back till tomorrow." You say as you observe his face. That’s when you pause. Wisps of his damp, snow white hair stick to his forehead, and his clothes are splotched with droplets. “Boy, d-did you walk here in the rain? Are you crazy? You'll get sick!"

Without a second thought, you grab his slender wrist and pull him into the apartment. You wait until you close the door behind him to turn your scolding gaze back in his direction.

“Why would your family let you walk in this weather? at this time especially? Could they not drive you?"

“My family doesn’t care about what I do as long as I don’t skip on my studies.” Gojo chuckles, letting his backpack slide off his shoulder.

A question edges itself at the tip of your tongue hearing him say this, but something stops you. Specifically, the sound of a soft ‘thud’ when his bag hits the floor. Actually, now that your eyes zero in on it, his bag looks rather full for more than a day or two stay like Drew had informed you it’d be.

“Why is your bag so heavy? What did you pack- Hey, what exactly are you doing?” By the time you pull your eyes from the backpack, Gojo is no longer standing in your living room, but in the kitchen. Particularly near the counter where the Tres leches cake sits.

Oh, you knew from previous events what he was thinking. Past experience had taught you that Gojo, like your brother, enjoyed your baking. However, unlike your brother, Gojo wasn't picky when it came to his food. Because of this, you *usually* enjoyed giving him the results of any recipes you were experimenting with, and he gladly inhaled accepted them. But sometimes it felt like feeding him had no end. That in itself could be exhausting for someone even if they liked to cook.

“Do not touch that cake.”

“Huh? why not? It's just sitting here. Wait, is this…for me? Can I have it now?"

“Gojo, I like you, really, I do. But your sense of self-importance is beyond what I can comprehend sometimes.” you tell him, approaching his side. “You really think when I make sweets and Drew is not here that its always for you?”

Gojo's produces a ponderous, audible grunt with the tilt of his head. His gaze is fixed on the cake, and his fingers grip the stand as he slowly begins to rotate it. After a moment, he breaks from his awe-struck trance and looks over to you, “Well, not always. But this time, can I?”

There’s no real harm in allowing him to eat it. But you wanted it. How exactly could you explain that without sounding immature? Never mind that you two were still teenagers-you were still a little older.

He’ll be fine this time around. it’s not like he absolutely needs it.

Even with your rationality, a thin slice of guilt swipes past you. You couldn't help it; you'd inherited a portion of your mother's nurturing mannerisms.

At the same time, you couldn't see why Gojo couldn't just go out and buy one or have someone make it for him in his own family. This didn't apply to Drew; his predicament was different since no one in your father's household was a decent cook. You'd experienced more than one family dinner before coming to this conclusion yourself. Gojo, on the other hand, while he didn't speak forthrightly about his family dynamic, you could tell he was well-off enough to have someone buy him a cake made by the best pastry chefs in town

But you're not convinced he'd do something like that.

You'd grown to know Gojo as a confident young man since Drew introduced him to both street and ice hockey, and this was a fair assessment.

Gojo appears to be a talented young athlete, based on what you've seen so far. But that was the extent of his boasting—what he could offer in terms of physical ability. His usefulness when he was present. Not his finances . Money, could be replaced. But people—specifically, their abilities? Not so quickly. And Gojo was unquestionably of that nature.

Money, even if he hardly mentioned it, you knew it wasn't a concern for him. He always seemed to have more than he considered necessary, and his clothes were nice.

Aside from the water droplets on his clothes, his pale orange hoodie and loose black track pants appeared brand new and of high quality without even seeing the label. His demeanor was also relaxed, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

You clear your throat, pushing past the unsettling tenseness in your chest that usually accompanied with having to be firm. "No, you can't have this one. Not this time."

You expected Gojo to react with a joke or something witty. Instead, your gaze is drawn to his collapsing shoulders. And then he turns to look at you, his face a mix of uncertainty and hurt.

“But why? Drew said you usually make cakes for birthdays. Doesn't that mean I can eat this now?"

“Well, yeah. But it was a test for Drew's birthday. And I kind of wanted to eat it myself," You smile sheepishly.

This discipline lesson was becoming far more trouble than it was worth, and his somber expression wasn't helping matters. You were on the verge of giving in and letting him have it. But Gojo shocks you with a terse head nod and a feeble smile.

“Ok then. I'm gonna go wash up before bed. I know we have to set up for Drew's birthday tomorrow morning." Is all he says before going back into the living room to grab his bag and bolting down the hallway.

You didn't realize the tension you'd been holding on your shoulders until you felt them sag at the sound of the bathroom door closing.

Well, great. I feel like shit.

Your sweet tooth had suddenly vanished, so you began cleaning up the small mess you had made in the kitchen area while cooking. But something catches your eye—a notification on your phone on the counter not far away.

Picking it up, you shuffle through some of them until your gaze is drawn to notifications from Drew that you missed earlier this morning.

I really need to be more prompt with these things.

You sigh as you unlock your phone and read his messages.

Thnks for Gojo stay over! But do you think you can do me a huge favor? (ಠ_ಠ)

I know it's last minute, but I'll pay you back and do dishes for the next two weeks! before he swings l8ter today, do you think you could bake a small cake for him? When I was texting him earlier about how you make special cakes for my birthday, can you believe he asked me why? (⚆_⚆)

I thought he was joking around, but he told me he'd never done something like that in his family. something about how they acknowledge it as a hallmark in their family's history—whatever that means. But it’s not an actual moment they celebrate with or for him—they don't even give him a cake.

I want to be there for it, but we're still driving back. Plus, today is the official day, and I want him to have something for himself. So please do me this solid! thanks! 〵(^ o ^)〴

oh..god.

You placed your phone on the counter before clenching the area of your shirt where your heart was beating. In that moment, if it could sink, it would end up at the earth's core.

“Wait, is this for me?” His small voice of innocent curiosity-- It'd been genuine. Not out of self-centeredness, like you initially assumed.

You wanted to give yourself some comfort by not believing someone would be so cold toward a child as to not give them a birthday celebration for the 14-going on 15- years they've been alive. You didn't want to believe someone who could literally be so sure of himself around his peers, and his abilities, was robbed of something so basic as human contact by his own family for that special day.

But as you thought more about the matter, you realized you had to be realistic with yourself. With Gojo's mannerisms, and what little you know about his family, Drew's words about him didn't seem so farfetched. Not in the slightest.

You'd been blessed with some logical adults in your life; they'd taught you that multiple things can, on occasion, be true at once about an individual, whether they make sense to you or not.

❣

Gojo emerges from the bathroom now wearing his pajamas after taking a much-needed hot bath. There was another special reason he felt better, in addition to the simple fact that his skin felt warm, fresh, and spotless. A small smile appears across his mouth as he breathes deeply while aiming his face at his shoulder. He presses his nose much more firmly against the softness of his shirt, to his shoulder. The scent of your body wash hits him; the aroma of flowers, sweet citrus fruit, and Honey—His new favorite scent since his visits at your house started—was delicate as well as prevalent.

It's almost like... She's hugging me. Honey.

The thought emits a dull ache in Gojo's chest. It's a strange reaction, along with the floating, warm feeling he gets whenever he's close to you. But it's not a new sensation; rather, it's been with him since the first time he saw you on the sidelines at one of Drew's street hockey games—before he knew either of you officially.

But Gojo never gave much thought into the feeling other than him appreciating your company to the point where he wanted to be around you more. Thankfully you allowed it without much question. yet, still, Gojo silently couldn’t help but feel it was a luxury he could never seem to be able to afford. Gojo loved Drew like a brother he’d never had, truly he did. But whenever he thought about Drew’s relationship with you for long, he could feel envy grip its cruel green fist around what felt like his heart. The tightness would increase Moreso when he thought about how Drew could have access to your time whenever.

Despite having more money than he knew what to do with, being applauded and acknowledged as a possible prodigy of hockey; He felt inadequate to his best friend simply because he had you. Not as an older sister, but as someone who was concerned and…loved him. But Gojo would do his best to hide this ugly side of him; always brushing it off as best he could and having a good time. Like now

Except for one difference.

For the first time since entering the corridor, Gojo noticed how quiet it was. In the past, even when it had just been the two of you hanging out, he would at least be able to hear you moving around the house.

“Y/n?” He calls for you, but gets no answer. puzzled, he steps further down the hall, just nearing the corner to round leading toward the kitchen archway-only to be stunned at the sight.

“Happy Birthday!”

You beamed, holding a rectangular glass cake pan angled toward him. Gojo freezes at the sight in front of him. His blue eyes blink rapidly before locking back on toward the cake. It's similar to the one you told him he couldn't eat, with the whipped topping evenly spread out. Aside from being bigger, this one was thoughtfully topped with fresh strawberries along the frame of the cake. And in the middle, in red, carefully pipped lettering, were the words, "Happy birthday, Gojo!"

Even after seeing his name on the surface, Gojo, as self-assured as he depicted himself to be, began feeling unsure at the display. "I get to have a cake?”

“It's December 7th, isn't it?” You tease. “Of course, you should have a cake; today's a special occasion." Your smile widens as you set the cake down on the kitchen island. You motion for him to sit on the stool in front of the cake as you round the opposite side of the island, which he does.

Even though Gojo took long baths, you felt that the amount of prep time you had to make things to your liking was nonexistent. Granted, you already had this cake made with the intention of giving it to Drew tomorrow, so that cut time down by a bunch. But decoration wise? You wanted it to be a little more presentable with something besides a clean application of whipped topping. So, in your haste to finish the last-minute cake, you decorated it with strawberries and practiced piping a few fonts before writing on the cake itself. Everything was at least acceptable to you, but you could only find one box with a single red and white striped candle.

It'll do for now.

You think, as you remove the candle from the box and gently insert it into the cake's surface. Gojo watches attentively as you grab a nearby lighter and angle it over the candle wick.

“You know, it's tradition to blow the candle out, but you have to make a wish first. You can ask for anything you'd like."

“A wish...?” he repeats slowly, wrinkling his nose. “Why would I wish for something when I can just go and get it myself?"

Your lids lower.

Why am I not surprised that he would say something like that?

You fight the urge to follow up his remark with something witty; that would be immature given the situation.

“Not everything is easy to get—that's why.”

“It doesn't need to be.” He shrugs lightly. “ I'll have it if I really want it.”

It's so annoyingly amazing how this boy can be so innocent but at the same time so sure of himself.

“Fine, Mr. Confident." You chuckle, lowering the lighter. “If you're so undoubtably confident that you don't need even an inkling of help from a wish to afford every luxury this world has to offer, then we don't have to—"

“Wait!” His hand clasps around your wrist suddenly. "I mean, we can still do it. For fun, I mean.”

Your brow furrows at the sudden change of heart. You're almost tempted to question him about it, but you quickly dismiss the idea. It didn't matter right now.

The vivid orange flame peaks from the lighter with a soft 'click' and ignites the wick.

"If you need a second to think of your just-for-fun wish, you can give yourself a little time."

“I don't have to say it out loud either, do I?”

“You don't," you confirm with a kind smile. “Just close your eyes, think really hard about what you really want, and then blow out the candle.”

Even with your genuine patience, you can't help but notice the way his eyes fidget back and forth between you and the flame on the candle. Regardless of whether it's a harmless superstition that he claims he doesn't believe in, his body language towards this part puzzles you. Then, a faint pink rose to his cheeks. It's almost as if he feels embarrassed or protective of his superstitious beliefs being reveled to you.

Maybe he actually does have something unobtainable that he wants, but can’t admit it —boys are so stubborn.

You think humorously.

It wasn’t so hard to believe. you distinctly remember overhearing him and Drew once talking about some rare hockey trading cards weeks ago.

But you weren't going to poke fun at him about it-even if it was a silly superstition, this was a moment—a hallmark for him...

His long, snow-white lashes flutter close as he leans forward slightly. His chest inflates slightly as he takes a breath, and he expels the flame in one whisk of breath.

…cause in that innocent instant, neither of you knew how much of a hallmark that moment was and how it set off a butterfly effect promised to intertwine your lives for the long haul.

❣

End note from the author: I enjoy and appreciate comments, likes, reblogs (on Tumblr), and kudos (on AO3). I don't always have the spare time to respond back or properly view in a timely manner, but please know that I appreciate the interaction purely because I love sharing my imagination with people who enjoy the escape from reality <3 also, heres a pic of the vision I had of the budding hockey start Gojo

©JUDESUMMERS. Please do not copy, Translate, Plagiarize, or repost (sharing via link is excluded). This story is only uploaded on Tumblr, Wattpad and AO3. Anywhere else under any other name besides JUDESUMMERS is prohibited

#interracial #x black!reader #fanfiction #anime x black!fem reader #gojo x black reader #gojo x y/n #black!reader #black!fem!reader #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #gojo satoru x black!reader #wattpad #gojo x reader #gojo satoru fanfic #x black fem reader #Gojo x black!fem reader #gojo x oc

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beebopboom · 6 months

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so like what if in good omens universe the ranking of angels started after the fall or at least the many different types that there are now - that it was more based on when they were made, how old they are

This kind of stemmed off from another theory where the archangel council that we see, with the maybe exception of Gabriel, are representatives of other “ranks” of angels but I haven't really fully thought that one out completely so

Let me explain this one

When Gabriel left heaven we kind of see Michael and Uriel squabble over who would take over the position and you have the jealousy that Michael has for Gabriel throughout the whole series - which why would they have any of this "climbing up the corporate latter" mindset if these were the positions that they were assigned/made for by God? - to go against Gods will for them? - unless that wasn't always the case

But I think we get the biggest clues from Crowley this season - who wasn't in Heaven when it became all corporate like

Who for one - when talking to Beelzebub and they mentioned the book of life, he said that was just something they used to threaten the cherubs with - which we know means the general younger angels in good omens - just a reference to age being a defining feature at least then

And for two - when he goes to heaven with Muriel he tells them how angels are like bees which is such an interesting comparison because if you take that literally with only three ranks in the hive that means you have God = Queen, drones = humans, and finally worker bees = angels. Before I get into the angels - the drones being humans because they are made for reproduction (that's all I got).

But anyways the angels would be the worker bees in this metaphor which surprise surprise worker bees are given different jobs based on how old they are. They kind of boil down to the younger bees doing inside the hive jobs while the older ones do the outside jobs but one would step up where needed - and well Aziraphale (a confirmed cherub at the time) was able to stop what he was doing and step up where help was needed with Crowley.

But what about the comment about one prince of Heaven falling (with the very obvious cut to Crowley) - that is obviously a rank? yes but a very different one than Supreme Archangel which points to a different ranking system - and well maybe the oldest angels gained the title of Princes to show they were first creations of God, the closest. - So it is not necessarily that one being is more powerful its more like they are just older, they know more. And maybe this caused for quite the stir. (I could go on about how this system effected how Hell works but this is getting quite long)

(but what about angel Crowley not knowing about earth if they were a prince of Heaven - the reaction we get is “not as such” which to me is just her ass was not listening - he should know but just kind of clocked out thinking about stars or some shit)

That is until after the Great War and the Fall where someone realized Heaven was too free, too unstructured , too many angels not knowing their place and decided to change it (cough*metatron*cough) to a place that has a clear hierarchy and angels who know their rank/rules/purpose and there is no more changing or questions

#idk if this makes sense #i’m going to add more to this and it’s gonna get very meta #but it’s what’s been going on in my head #yes this my headcannon of how crowley and gabriel were of the same rank before the Fall and how they have the same powers #good omens #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens rant #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #metatron #good omens metatron #good omens gabriel #beeeessss #ineffable fandom #good omens analysis #good omens michael

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emeraldkays · 9 months

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𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Loki x Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Enthralled by the sky on a starry night, you ask Loki what the universe is like and end up getting a confession or two.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: none.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 940.

a/n: it's 3am and i'm off my head while listening to Sparks on repeat, so if this doesn't make sense, you have my sincerest apologies :)

"What's it like up there?"

You felt the presence of your favourite god standing behind you as you admired the dark sky and all of its beauty. It really sucked that you would never get the chance to go and see what was out there.

When you thought that humans were the only living species in the universe, you never really cared for space or any of its matter, but knowing you weren't alone almost made you feel content for some odd reason.

"It is beautiful," he took a few long strides to stand by your side and enjoy the view with you, "but it is also hideous."

Your eyebrows furrowed together as you tore your gaze from the sky and looked at Loki who continued to look up.

"It is everlasting, yet evanescent," he continued, "merciful, but cruel."

You looked back up at the sky while Loki carried on listing the amazing things about the universe, followed by an off-putting antonym. It never crossed your mind to question the one-thousand-and-something god who no doubt had more experience than you, so you just listened and took it all in.

"I believe for something so infinite, it cannot just be one thing, but it must also be the other as we all perceive things differently."

You tried your best to hold your smile back at his confession. One thing you loved about Loki was his intelligence and dedication to learning. If there was something he didn't know or understand, instead of waiting for someone to explain it to him, he'd go off and do his own research.

"How do you see it?" Your voice came out just above a whisper due to being taken aback by the sudden breeze that had decided to accompany you.

"It is the most beautiful thing I have seen in my entire existence," he responded, forcing that smile out of you. "Or at least the second most beautiful thing."

"What's the first?" You turned to look at him once again.

Loki chuckled and turned his head to his feet, "I'll find you mean who."

"Wow," was all you managed to say, paying more attention to the pain in your chest.

From the moment you met Loki, you've had a crush on him but you were too much of a coward to tell him how you felt. That and you didn't want to ruin your friendship or cause problems for the team.

"Not in a bad way, of course. I just didn't know you had a crush on anyone. And the fact that you'd tell me, I mean, I really appreciate it," you quickly finished once you realised you were making an embarrassment out of yourself.

He never spoke.

"So who are they?" Maybe it wasn't your place to ask, but you at least wanted to know who the lucky person was, if you knew them.

Silence again. But just as you were about to apologise, he finally spoke.

"You know them better than I," he finally responded, but it still never helped.

"That could be anyone here, besides Thor obviously," given their age and the fact that they were brothers...adoptive brothers, "or technically not."

The huge grin that made its way to his face made you realise the two mistakes you made. The first being he said, 'You know them better than I'. Of course, you didn't know Thor better than him! Anyone would have thought you knew that, literally saying it not even a second ago.

The second was, you have firsthand witnessed the brother chemistry they have. He says he hates it but you know he secretly longs for it. He always has.

He turned to you and you could just tell by the look on his face that you'd be damn well lucky if you got away without him using it against you in the next few minutes.

"As beautiful as my brother is, it is not him," he reassured you causing your cheeks to heat up.

"Sorry," you mumbled looking away with your face feeling like the temperature as the sun, which was impossible but there was a first time for everything.

The mischief in his voice faded as he asked you a question. "May I give you a clue?"

You returned eye contact with the god, "Sure."

He closed the distance between you by softly placing his palms on your cheeks, and before you could react, his lips were on yours.

Your eyelids closed due to the sudden softness of his lips and the delicacy of the kiss. Loki only showed his tender side to you since you were the only one he liked, but this was more than that.

His hand went down your cheeks to the back of your neck, drawing you in closer. Your hand impulsively reached his waist, and you drew in for a deeper kiss.

It was passionate and fierce, yet it was filled with love. Time appeared to stand still as you lost yourself in the moment. He broke apart the kiss with a hesitant chuckle as he carefully removed his hands from your face to take yours in his, "does that narrow it down for you?"

To say you were speechless was an understatement in the least. Stuck somewhere between that unexpected kiss and the fact that he just gave you the best compliment any living thing could ever give, it was hard to find the right words.

"So you think I'm just as beautiful as Thor?" was what you stupidly went with in the end, grinning from ear to ear.

"Since you accused me of having an incestual crush on him, I do."

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a-friendly-fangirl · 7 months

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Random thoughts on We're in Love (or "Your average Italian girl has had an awful week and Boygenius' love saves her ass again"):

So, I've been listening to the Boys and to their solo stuff the whole week (for the past 5 months, to be honest... but who's counting?) and I've been going crazy lately for the beauty of We're in Love.

I think we can all acknowledge that that song is one of the greatest songs in "The Record" and one of the best ever written. And then I started bawling, when my mind got stuck on its lyrics and realised just how heartbreaking and beautiful it is.

This will be kind of my personal analysis (also inspired by some suggestions here and there... thank you to all the geniuses around that have noticed certain things. I wish I could write down all your names, but my memory is awful), so if you disagree with it or feel the need to add something, do it. I'd be happy to meet more Boygenius fans!

Ok, I'd like to begin with the third and fourth line of the first verse, where Lucy sings: "I don't need the symbol of a scar/ So put down the knife, we're not swapping blood". And yet, in "The film", Julien still takes a blood oath with the young versions of Lucy and Phoebe. I think that this was such an interesting choice to make, considering the difference between the words and the actions. This actually makes sense though, when underlining that 20$ is Julien's song and these words belong to Lucy.

Julien, as her solo albums readily witness, has no real problem with hurting herself ('Cause I'm so good at hurting myself - Brittle Boned) both physically and psychologically. We also know, from 20$, that she does believe in being connected to Phoebe and Lucy in every universe or life (In another life we were arsonists). Lucy does too with them (And I told you of your past lives; In the next one [life], will you find me? - We're in Love). Same goes for Phoebe, even though it's a little more subtle with her. In fact, more than believing in other lives, she seems to believe in changing herself in the present life, so much that, even though Emily I'm Sorry is her song, she has decided to sing it with her best friends, because, maybe, she'd rather be someone that can be loved by them in particular and not someone only Emily "could want".

To better understand the scar line/imagery, I think it important to notice that Julien doesn't take the blood oath with her adult friends but with their younger selves. In my opinion, it's like a machine has brought them in Julien's universe or timeline to help her get out of her home, which, listening to her music, is a synonym of recovery or at least of a better state of mind (in Go Home and Please Stay, it is quite clear: "I wanna go home, I'm sick", while in Graceland Too she finally gets out once she's feeling better). But, not belonging there (and we know they don't thanks to Julien's surprised expression when she sees little Phoebe), pehaps she's afraid that she'll lose them once they're done with the car, therefore asking them to do that oath. Childhood scars never fully leave us, so Julien might be convinced that it'll help adult Phoebe and Lucy to remember her, once they meet as intended or hoped.

When you think about it, the layers here are so many that it's scary. Scars have always at least a touch of negativity, even when you get them for something not negative per se (I have so many scars I got from running around as a child...), because they always follow pain. Julien and Phoebe have dealt with it their whole life and have actively put themselves through it more than once, so of course Julien chooses to use a knife (which also brings us back again to Please Stay: "The hunting knife you kept by your bed". I don't think the mention in We're in Love is a coincidence) against herself if it means being sure Phoebe and Lucy know it's her. But Lucy stops her for two main reasons:

Julien won't have to wait for them to find her, because she and Phoebe will, according to Lucy, be the ones going to her, if they want to (Will you find me?);

Instead of remembering each other through something painful, they could use the happy and positive memories they've shared in this life. Lucy once again wants to do everything in her power to dismantle her friends' self-destructive tendencies and replace them with something good (even the "happy" in Letter to an Old Poet was her suggestion).

Moving on to the next lines (Isn't it enough that we stripped down to our skin?/ Cold and porcelain like bathers in a painting), the beauty of this specific portrait delivered by Lucy kind of proves the point just made. Saying that the skin is "cold" and "porcelain" delivers a poetic image of extreme fragility that could be both literal or figurative and it shows just how much they trust each other. What Lucy appears to be pointing out is that she doesn't need any more pain to believe they're in love with each other, since they've already done the great sacrifice of showing themselves when they were most vulnerable (something they're still learning to do, according to recent interviews).

In Lucy's specific case (And I told you of your past lives, every man you've ever been/ It wasn't flattering, but you listened like it mattered), I'd go as far as to think that she did that by letting Phoebe and Julien listen to the stories of her past friendships or even relationships, telling them whom she had had by her side before them. She sings that that tale wasn't flattering: why? If I had to express myself on that, I'd guess, by her albums, that, just like any other human being, even Lucy has had a lot of troubled bonds with people she might have wrongly thought were as true and loyal to her as the Boys are now (take Strange Torpedo, Nonbeliever or Brando as examples). My personal take on this part is that she hasn't tried to tell Phoebe and Julien who they've been in the past, but to confess them who had had their roles in her life previously, feeling perhaps embarassed by it. But they're in no way bored or mad at her for that, listening, however, "like it mattered" (quoting True Blue: "It doesn't matter anymore", 'cause they're together now, but it is still important to her that they are paying attention to this part of her story).

She also admits being open to them about her own insecurities, especially the fear of being or seeming crazy (I feel crazy in ways I never say/ Will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/ I know what you'll say, but it helps to hear you say it anyway), making herself vulnerable by exposing this side of her she usually keeps hidden in hope of being reassured by them, which they've probably done a thousand times already.

Long story short, coming to the end of the first chorus: Lucy loves and values them for the trust they've put in each other and no scar will ever match that feeling. I have a lot more to say about the rest of the song, but this is mostly me ranting about it, so I'll see how it goes. Sorry for all of this :P

#boygenius #julien baker #lucy dacus #phoebe bridgers #i love them #music #we're in love #lyrics analysis

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natsubeatsrock · 10 months

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Do I STILL really believe Nalu won’t happen?

Short answer: No.

But you know that's not how we do things here.

It feels so good to be back! (sort of, at least) I know I've been away for some time. Part of it is being busy with things in real life. Part of it is mental health not doing too well. Some of my plans for things have shifted quite a bit, as you might be able to tell.

All that said, this hasn't changed.

I haven't talked about this in the proper context of the sequels. I've taken shots at the ship. But have I given this ship the treatment I'd probably be expected to?

Or, at least, have I explained my reasons for still doubting the ship will happen? Because I don't have to like that a ship is happening to believe it will happen.

Speaking of which, what better place to start with than talking about that other ship I rag on a lot: Gruvia. I've said this a few times, but I don't like Mashima's writing of Gruvia in the sequel. To be brief, the ship's focus is different from what I believe it should be. And having Juvia as an active series member has long since passed the point of straining reality.

At the same time, no one denies that Gray has decided to accept Juvia's feelings. He's come to terms with himself in this regard and will accept Juvia as a lover once the mission ends. (How are we still on the fourth dragon?) It's hard to see something like Gray wishing for an alternate universe where he's married with a kid and ask myself, "How serious is Mashima about this ship happening?" You know, as if it isn't only a matter of time.

The issue is that Nalu isn't on that level. That sounds like me being biased and denying the reality right, especially if I listen to certain people.

But let's compare these two ships and what's happened to them in the sequel.

When the gang visited Fairy Nali, their version of Juvia was the catalyst for Gray being as open with Juvia as he's poised to be. Fairy Nali has its own Nalu, but nothing meaningful came from it. Natsu got jealous because of Lucy, but that's not brought up again and doesn't affect anything.

They go to Edolas and see their alternate-world kids. I'll grant you that Natsu and Gray want to bring their "kids" to the Earthland. But what else happens? I mentioned what goes on with Greige already. Ashley talks with Lucy about the possibility of a future romance with Natsu, but she's not meaningfully moved by it.

Come to think of it, there was a similar conversation to that when they were on the Earth God Dragon. Lucy heard Touka had a romantic interest in Natsu. Her response wasn't one of jealousy. She figured it wouldn't go well once she heard about it. (It's almost as if she knows that Natsu isn't currently interested in a romantic relationship if he ever will be.)

Nothing showed that more than the one moment I've talked about the most from the sequel: Natsu and the women in his heart. The fact that Natsu's bunch of women is canonically juxtaposed with Gray's feelings for Juvia shows that Mashima's taking this ship as a joke.

To be a Nalu shipper, I must believe one of a few realities. It's possible that Natsu does have romantic feelings for all these women and can't decide between them. You know, despite Wendy being in that bunch. It's also possible Mashima, being in tune with fandom, is trying to appease fans of Natsu's most-popular ships, even outside of Nalu. It wasn't as if I expected anything involving Nali in the sequel. My theory, which I alluded to when it happened, is Mashima making a callback to a sketch he made a while back. That would explain why Mira and Cana were there but don't talk. They weren't in that old sketch.

I can't say for sure what this moment is supposed to mean. But I know that this isn't helping Nalu's case as a romantic ship. Not just because it's multiple women. Not just because Gray's only interested in Juvia. Natsu's focus in the matter is that Yakune put his friends against him. Not women he's interested in romantically used to distract him.

By the way, I'm sick of having to say this after eight years of having this blog. But I guess some things never change. Characters being put in awkward potentially sexual positions isn't proof your ship will happen. At best, it's a cheap gag that could reveal characters' feelings through their reactions. At worst, it's one of the most annoying tropes of the medium we love and want to take more seriously. Lucy wanting Natsu to touch her anywhere doesn't hold the kind of weight I'm annoyed to know so many fans want it to have. That doesn't matter how real or fake Lucy or whoever else is.

But what tells me Nalu isn't likely isn't any of that. It's not anything involving Gruvia or chapter 71 of the sequel. I don't think I'd say this a few years ago. But the thing that sells me against Nalu is Jerza. Of course, this isn't to say Jerza happening would jeopardize Nalu. But Jerza has been making strides toward becoming canon.

A few years ago, I concluded that Erza would never willingly leave Fairy Tail, even to be with Jellal. That means the only way Jerza could happen would be if Jellal accepted his actions as being forgiven and was willing to join Erza to some degree. This could be joining Fairy Tail or some sort of mutual partnership outside of it. Mind you, this was for how I was thinking of how to pair them in rewriting the series. (Also, thank "Kidnapping Erza".)

Now, what's happened in the sequel?

Awkward and annoying as it is, Jellal put his past behind him. At this point, it's more a matter of conviction, similar to Gray not using Iced Shell. Erza invited Jellal to join Fairy Tail. He's currently considering the offer and isn't too enthusiastic about it. But if the guild was willing to accept Gajeel destroying the guild and stapling Shadow Gear to a tree, Jellal's not too far from being accepted by the guild. Not because Tower of Heaven isn't objectively worse. Because if the one person in the guild hurt by his actions is willing to accept him, no one else has any reason to reject him. Especially considering she might become the next guild leader if Makarov dies (again).

And all the while, they genuinely get flustered at the idea of being in a relationship with each other. The notion of a Jerza romance is treated as all but a certainty by characters familiar with them multiple times in canon, including the the past few chapters we’ve got from the sequel. As far as I can tell, no one operates under the assumption this ship isn't happening. Nothing has convinced me this shouldn't be the case.

What can I say of Nalu in this regard?

It's one thing if I question whether or not Nalu will happen. I've never seriously liked it and have outright said it won't and shouldn't happen multiple times for multiple reasons. In years past, I probably would point to that and call it a day. But, if there’s any benefit to being away for the past few months, I’ve had time to justify something crazy.

For the past few years, Nalu fans have questioned if the ship will happen. People who like the ship genuinely wonder if Mashima will make the ship happen or if they're right to doubt its prospects. I've seen this all over the internet, not just here on Tumblr. It’s a question people bring up on Reddit. It’s mentioned in places like Youtube and Twitter.

And as much as people will reassure them that it's going to happen, this isn't true of the other ships in the Big 4. As a fandom, we're convinced Jerza will happen. We're convinced Gruvia will happen. No matter how people feel about them, I don't see anywhere near as many people questioning these ships happening as Nalu. Gajevy's already happened, and we know how that's supposed to go.

And, to be honest, this has been amazing to notice. Going from everyone taking Nalu for granted to seeing the whispers of Nalu not being as possible genuinely makes me feel so vindicated. When I made my big post about Nalu years back, I was terrified someone would tell me I was wrong and tear down my post as idiotic. If I were to remake that post now, I'd have so much fewer worries making the post. Even making the sequel to that post after Mashima’s supposed positive comments about Nalu at NYCC was so much easier knowing they weren’t meant to be.

It's almost a shame that I've all but run out of things to say about the ship. At this point, there's not a whole lot else for me to say but "I told you so, idiots" to the people who doubted me and those who agreed with me. It's not unlikely that something new will happen that requires me to talk about Nalu between now and Mashima's final decision on the ship. Something always comes up, be it a moment or something in fandom. Some Nalu fans may reply to my posts, and I'll answer them. But nothing to change how we all view Nalu will likely happen for some time.

Is Nalu possible? Yes, Nalu can still happen as long as Mashima's still writing the series. I don't think that a canonized Nalu will look anywhere near as interesting as the fandom wants to believe it would be. However, it's not as if Nalu is entirely impossible. I said that when I made my first long post about Nalu. (I didn't in the sequel because I figured the series was over.) I said that when we learned Mashima didn't plan the ship originally. I still believe that now, despite everything that I've said.

While nothing is set in stone, I'll enjoy all the salt from the Nalu fandom.

#fairy tail #anti nalu #i'm back!#well kind of #i'll start posting a bit more soon #i've got a lot to catch up with #few things #one: play hi-fi rush #two: watch the new spiderverse #three: i haven't caught up with the ez anime #four: mashima needs to slow down #five: my work situation has been a mess #but how are you doing?

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rogueshadeaux · 3 months

Text

Chapter Twenty-Nine — Paper Trail

“We don’t know enough yet to make any assumptions.” Dr. Sims said cooly from the kitchen, like he himself was trying to hold back from demanding answers from the universe. “Maybe we’ll get lucky and find something in the files today. If not, hopefully the tests will tell us something we missed.”

6k words | 30 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: Illness, medical procedures [mentioned], racism, abuse, lore. so much lore.

⚠ AUTHOR'S NOTE: There are a lot of imbedded links on this chapter! Some are very low quality, as I had to work with what I could screenshot off of Youtube. If only SPP compiled their stuff in one place like a normal game company. Anyways enjoy!

I woke up to Dad sitting on the floor next to the couch, calling my name gently. “Jeanie, wake up,” he hummed. “C’mon, I made coffee.”

“Do I have to?” I grumbled, face still in the cushions.

Dad and I had stayed up for nearly two hours after I had walked back into the house and talked about everything; the guilt, the anger, the truth. He wasn’t as mad at me as I thought he was—while he was upset, he didn’t blame me for it. Any of it. “Jean, you don’t know what to do o-or what’s going on,” he reassured me, “I can’t get upset at you for that. I just want you to be careful.” He wanted nothing more than for me to trust his judgment. And maybe I needed to; Dad knew what he was doing. I’d be safe if I listened to him, right? I had to trust him.

But it was hard, when we both kept hiding things from each other.

So I extended the olive branch first, and told him the truth; the pain in my back when I use my powers but how it eases when I’m in water. He listened intently to it all, simply nodding along. “I’ll tell Eugene in the morning,” he eventually decided, “We’ll figure it out, I promise,”

Maybe it was wrong for me to not say anything about Mom as I was huddled into his chest, but I wasn’t sure I could get through that conversation without becoming a blubbering mess. And besides, maybe that was simply meant for me. No one else.

The heart-to-heart led to us falling asleep on the couch, my head in Dad’s lap as he reclined back. Apparently I exhausted myself in my sobbing so much that I didn’t know Dad slipped away in the morning. Not until he woke me up at least. “Eugene needs to give you a look over and we…we need to talk to you about something too.”

That got me to turn to look at Dad through my curtain of hair. He was crouched holding two cups, Dr. Sims standing behind him with his arms crossed.

This was gonna be fun.

Dr. Sims assured me he knew enough basic medical care to know if I was okay. “Or at least, if something is wrong,” he added, looking me over. “Double majored while in college, I just never took the MCAT.”

I had no idea what that was, but nodded like I did as he checked my pulse, timing it against his watch.

He looked over my scars, checked their stitches. The hole in my neck was barely touched but he at least seemed satisfied by how it looked under its clear wrapping, which I was beginning to think was just saran wrap taped down. “Your dad said it hurts when you use your powers?” he asked me, examining the scar on my side. It was settling into a nice purple, bright against my skin.

“It’s — it’s not really a hurt,” I started, trying to downplay it. Dad was looking at me too intensely for me to be comfortable with just admitting the fact. “It’s almost like I feel sore when I do, in between my shoulderblades.”

Dr. Sims nodded, hand coming around to my back. “Right here?” He asked, pressing between my shoulder blades. My hand tensed around the coffee mug as I nodded, trying not to wince as he palpated the area.

“Yeah,” I eventually said.

Dr. Sims hummed, moving his hand away from my back. “And does it hurt while you use your power, or after?”

I shrugged. “Both? But it only hurts while I’m using it if I do it for a long time. Otherwise it’s usually this, like, twinge after.”

He nodded, moving to the table to type out some notes on his open mini-laptop. Dad sat back down on the couch beside me, one hand staying wrapped around the coffee mug while the other came to wrap around me.

I didn’t like that. He would give out affection often, sure, but holding? That usually came before bad news.

Dr. Sims picked up his laptop and brought it close, sitting on my other side. “Jean, we got your test results back.” He began.

My heart stopped. “Already?” I asked meekly. Dad’s arm pulled me a bit closer to his side as I slightly turned to face Dr. Sims better.

Dr. Sims nodded. “I pulled some strings.”

I waited a moment for him to continue. “So then…what did the results say?” I asked. I hated that he wouldn’t start explaining without my prompting.

Dr. Sims looked at the computer. “Well, the good news is that there’s nothing wrong with you genetically,” he began. “In terms of chromosomal makeup, you and Brent look perfect.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s…that’s good,” I glanced over my shoulder at Dad. “But then,” I looked back to Dr. Sims, “Why am I not healing?”

Dad’s arm squeezed around me gently. “That’s where the bad news comes in.” He said softly. “You know how we took samples of the stuff on your leg?”

“Yeah?”

“The results came back abnormal,” Dr. Sims said. “We’re not sure what that means yet, though. Once we’re done here with Mr. Dunbar, I want to take you to the nearest Accredited hospital to do more tests.”

I had to suppress a groan. More tests. “What would — what’re you looking for?” I asked.

Dad took over the conversation. “Well, answers. We now know Augustine’s tar, one hundred percent, is what’s making you sick. We just need to know how, and why.”

“Mr. Dunbar already got in contact with someone who can examine the tar for us. He just left to mail it. They’re in Boston, so it will take a day or two to get the sample there — but I know this person. She’d be able to uncover any secrets we wouldn’t be able to see.”

“And we need to make sure you’re okay, too.” Dad added. “See if anything’s changed since the last time we took blood, check your scars. Your arm could probably use a check-up too.”

“And I want to examine your conducrine gland, with your report of pain,” Dr. Sims continued. “I want to take a quantification assay and make sure you’re making enough proteins, and double check that you’re not having any complications. Maybe an MRI.”

I nodded once. “Okay.” I said, like I wasn’t both confused and dreading everything.

“Until then, if you have any more pain, you tell us, okay?” Dad practically demanded. Dr. Sims got up from his spot on the couch to set his computer back on the table, grabbing his empty cup and heading to the counter to get more coffee.

There was something I needed to know, though. “Did Mom’s com–conducrine gland ever hurt? When she was sick?”

I could feel Dad’s arm around me tense. “It did,” he said.

“So it’s happening to me too? I thought my test results came back normal, genetically.” I looked at Dad. “If it happened to Mom too, then how…”

A shadow crossed over Dad’s face as he scowled. “We’re wondering the same.”

The hot cup did nothing to warm me as my blood ran cold. They both seemed angry at the idea that Mom had something put in her, too — and I didn’t like the fact that despite reassuring me they’re not sure what the cause could be, they both seemed settled on a reason to blame.

Brent eventually stumbled downstairs looking refreshed after resting, which was a relief unlike any other as the image of his lifeless body began to lose its harsh edges in my mind’s eye. Dad managed to find and burn some eggs and turkey bacon as we waited for Zeke to return, and for a brief bit, it almost felt like I could pretend that everything was normal. That we were on some trip in a less-than-stellar rental and this was just breakfast after a night spent gaming or binging a movie series Dad insisted was fantastic.

Imagining was all I could do to keep from dwelling on the what ifs.

Zeke eventually came back — and then stepped back out, bringing in muddied ammo box after muddied ammo box. “They’re weather resistant,” he explained to Brent when he gave Zeke a bewildered look. “Which is needed when you live in a swamp. Good for hiding stuff.”

Dad crouched low and pulled his briefcase out from under the loveseat couch, saying, “I brought everything I could. Some stuff got damaged in Betty’s old storage unit, but I managed to salvage most of it.”

“Is that why you brought the briefcase?” Brent asked, glancing over at me. We had a bet going on what he was intending to do with it. “I thought you were just gonna start going back to work,”

Dad’s smile was half hearted. “Nope. Everything in here’s from my adventures,”

The way Dad sarcastically said adventures suggested it wasn’t the fun kind in the movies.

Dr. Sims began working at his computers at the small table, the mini-laptop perched precariously on his lap as the other two shared the liminal space of the wood. Dad sat on the couch between Brent and I and opened up his briefcase, revealing a hell of random stuff; dozens of crumpled and folded pieces of paper, random little shreddings that almost looked like trash. There was some flier that was badly taped together and newspaper clippings, notes upon notes in Dad’s scratchy handwriting layered in margins of scrap paper and what almost looked like…

“Comics?” I blinked, pulling up the creased stacks of paper. “Did you make a comic?”

I looked up at Dad in time to see him grimace. “No.” He said, flat. “Those were all clues some crazy killer left me while she tried to frame us all.”

I looked back down at the artwork in my hands. “Oh.”

“But there’s—“ Brent began flipping through the papers Dad shoved in his hands. “There’s DUP documents in this?”

Dad shrugged. “I had to hack into their database to get some answers. She was Augustine’s favorite lackey.”

“Always leads back to that bitch,” Brent murmured, glancing over at me.

“Brent.”

“Oh c’mon Dad, you can’t keep getting onto me about it,”

“Help me organize all this,” Dad commanded, ignoring Brent completely. “I printed out everything I didn’t have a physical copy of so this is…it’s gonna be a lot.”

“How the hell are we supposed to organize this?” Brent asked, incredulous.

“There’s serial numbers on them all,” Dad said, pointing to a row of one on a DUP document in Brent’s hand. “Find the connected files if you can.”

“Delsin, come here for a second,” Dr. Sims said at the table. Dad promised to return and help but asked that we get a head start while he was going over something with Eugene.

The comic wasn’t really a traditional one, but almost some sort of manga; a story about a rabbit that lost her family in an attack, and was safeguarded by a large dragon before being locked away. The art style was immaculate, I had to admit — but I didn’t get how some story with a dragon was supposed to be a hint, unless this version of the Zodiac Killer was hiding some code in the shading.

Brent nodded my way as I looked over the first page again. “What does that say?”

I shrugged. “Nothing much. Just a bunch of drawings.”

“I meant the back.”

“The—” I cut off, flipping the page.

Death is just a passing phase. I’ve danced with demise, and let me tell you, he’s a bad dancer (always stepping on my toes). But I’ve learned to embrace the macabre — to navigate its twisted depths. Conduits and “normals” are at a crossroads, and if we don’t look both ways, we’ll all get run down. All I want — all I’ve ever wanted — is harmony between people. Follow my lead and I’ll show you the trail of bodies. Seek out the corpses and you’ll find the truth decaying within.

“...Oh.” I said meekly. This had to be what Dad was talking about. Some twisted manifesto by a serial killer.

I flipped over the others, and each of them had something on their backs — some, notes, others, puzzles. “Hold on,” He said, leaning forward. He grabbed the second page of the manga. “‘If you’re trying to get into the DUP, I’ve been there. In fact, I died there.’” He read off. “Look, there’s that serial number thing Dad was talking about.”

I read off the row of numbers. “Do you have this file? Starts with, uh—” I glanced down again, “3485?”

Brent muttered the number to himself again and again as he flipped through the pages in his hand. “Here,” he finally said, pulling one out from the middle of the pile. It was a statement issued by Brooke Augustine herself on the death of a Conduit detained at Curdun Cay in a death by a thousand paper cuts — literally. Suicide by dozens of cuts created by paper doves. “Jesus Christ,” I murmured, imagining the pain. I read over the memorandum again, pointing to its first sentence, “There’s a number here, do you have a file for that one?” I asked Brent, “Ends in 2606,”

“I was just looking at that,” He said. “Fuckin’ — here. Some girl named Celia.” He looked over to Dad, who was behind Dr. Sims, reading something on a screen. “Who was Celia?”

“Paper conduit?” I asked, incredulous. She could control paper! Or, did — at least with enough control to kill herself.

Dad glanced over. “She’s the one that made those drawings.”

I blinked. “Guessing she also did the murders?”

“Yep.”

“How’d she get out?” Brent asked. “This says she died,”

Dad breathed deeply, Dr. Sims waving him off and letting him return to our side. “Augustine faked her death to sneak her out of Curdun Cay. Killed some random guard."

“But why?” I asked, looking up from the row of manga strips.

Dad didn’t answer — not at first, at least. He sighed deeply before reaching into the briefcase for a manila folder, opening it and peeking past the flap to check its contents. He nodded once before reaching in to start pulling out photocopies of pictures, laying them out facing us.

“Jesus,” Brent muttered.

I wasn’t prepared for it to be 90% bodies and death, of someone pinned to a billboard or being held against a wall by dozens of paper doves, bloodied and beaten and dead. “I need you both to look at this,” Dad said, looking up at us with a serious expression. There was barely any emotion in his face now, eyes peering at us like we were on the stand. “Augustine and Celia did this to keep up the narrative. Killed people that had ties to your mom and Eugene to make it look like it was them seeking revenge.” He leaned forward slightly. “And Archangel bombed COLE to try and get me to show myself. There are people out there that will see you as nothing more than a chance to hurt someone else. Nothing more than something to keep the story going. These are the kind of people I’m trying to keep from hurting you.” He looked between Brent and I. “Do you understand?”

I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes to peel away from the imagery of death and look somewhere, anywhere else. I wasn’t prepared for that. Bodies. A path painted in bloodshed long before I even had the chance to walk it, and littered with fresher meat for the sacrifice of someone else's cause. It felt so hopeless; was this really all there was? All there could be?

Looking away wasn’t a good idea, because my eyes moved from casualty to casualty as they landed on a picture of Mom next to some detective agency’s logo.

My hand was moving to pick up the file before I could even blink, bringing the black and white photocopy close to my face. I swear, if I concentrated hard enough, I could make her eyes move, almost see how she would bring her chin up and cock her head to the side like she did in the hallucination.

And this time, I wasn’t too sad while looking at the picture. Zeke was right; was it wrong to treat it as a fact even if there was a good chance it wasn’t? Maybe it was better, knowing the hallucination was just that and yet still being able to be a bit indulgent.

I forced my eyes off of Mom’s photo to the blurb under it, reading through the information this random detective agency had. “Wait,” I murmured, rereading a single line again and again. “Dad? This thing says Mom’s parents wanted to…wanted to talk to her again.”

Brent’s head snapped around to look at me. “What?” He demanded, snatching the page out of my hand and swatting me away when I tried to take it back. “Holy shit, that’s Mom,”

Dad meanwhile did nothing more than sigh hard. “We did hear from her parents. Shortly after we did the whole gender reveal thing.” His jaw tightened at the memory. “It didn’t go well.”

Brent lowered the page, brow knitting closer together as he looked up at Dad. “What do you mean?” he asked.

I put down the manga drawings in my hands, giving Dad my full attention too. I had always wondered, if we had a mom, where her side of the family was. I understood Dad was an orphan, he never shied away from that fact; but he never elaborated much on Mom except that her brother passed. I never found the courage to ask about grandparents on that side, either. Brent had once, and the scowl was enough to make me realize it was something he never intended answering.

Until now. “We had met somewhere in downtown Seattle, which was probably the first mistake. They both didn’t want to be in such a liberal area, and it didn’t help that Lifeline was protesting a lot more after the mass Curdun Cay release. Your mom was still on trial for her murders—”

“While pregnant?” Brent asked, eyes widening.

Dad shrugged. “All of us were. You think they were gonna let all of us go without a fight? There’s a reason the Akurans found your mom so easily.” He inhaled hard, trying to bleed the anger out of his voice. “They weren’t happy about the publicity of the trial. Add that on top of your mom having children with someone that wasn’t white, and the fact that they refused to apologize for turning Abbs in to the DUP and…well, why keep them around?”

“Jeez,” I hummed, glancing back down at the page in Brent’s hand, Mom’s face staring back at me upside down. I couldn’t think of much else to say but that, other than wishing I could’ve somehow supported Mom during that time. Her parents wouldn’t even say sorry for giving her away to the government!

Brent could form more words than me. “None of the shit she went through would have happened if they didn’t try to sell her in the first place,” He bit, angry at their audacity.

Dad nodded. “You would think they’d feel bad after everything that started coming out about Curdun Cay — the experiments and all that. But these are the same people Abbs told me didn’t think conversion therapy was a bad thing, so I guess they just saw it as another form of that.”

“Assholes.” Brent spit.

Dad didn’t reprimand him that time.

“Let’s just go through these files.” He finally decided. “Jean, get together all the F.A.N numbers from the back of those drawings. Brent, start throwing things in piles by person or facility or whatever.”

I snuck a chance at reading more of the manga as I scribbled down everything I found on a torn bill envelope Zeke passed over to me; it was Celia’s life story, pieced together by the files and clues connected to it. A girl who lost everything like so many others right here in New Marais before being found by a dragon and locked away in some cells carved into the side of a mountain. There was imagery of the child rabbit being torn in half as a being more sleek and pure colored rabbit, which I had to guess had to be her ‘death’ and rebirth, if the note on the back was anything to go by. In fact, I died there.

It never showed how she escaped, but the next page did show three others as they rushed away from the dozens of wyvern pursuing them — it took me longer than I’d admit to realize who they were. The next page spoke the representation clearly though; ‘Inazuma…vengeance now her drug of choice.’ The peahen was slaying shady looking shrews with needles slinging away from their hands.

Mom.

The next page featured a rooster named Ushinatta who had ‘went back to playing games’, the rooster opening its huge wings and calling down hens to peck at some bullies. That had to be Dr. Sims.

There was a third guy, though, that I realized I didn’t know.

Kemuri. Some sort of lizard…or maybe a gecko? “Who swore he’d never harm anyone” the page read as the gecko attacked a caravan driven by an elephant. There were three people that escaped that van, weren’t there? Mom, Dr. Sims…and someone else.

I lifted my head and was about to ask Dad when Brent said, “Here, this dude matches the drawing,” under his breath, handing me another DUP file. An incident report, in fact:

Despite our best efforts to isolate the detainees in as safe and thorough a manner as possible, two ward-mates developed a relationship that threatened to undermine the careful work being done with both: inmate 007-3171-8404 began looking out for 056-7339-2606, warding off any bullies and establishing a friendship. RESOLUTION: Inmate 007-3171-8404 was relocated to the maximum-security ward, due to his history of escape attempts and insurrection. Monitoring of inmate 056-7339-2606 has been increased ever since she used her daily paper privilege to create the attached image:

A full body drawing of the gecko was photo scanned with the DUP file, creased lines doing nothing to hinder the artwork.

My new friend was taken away today, the words under it read, It was my fault, I’m sure. I was just trying to be nice…just like he was nice to me. He told me I reminded him of his daughter. And now, just like my real parents— He’s gone.

“You got anything on this 8404 inmate?” I asked Brent. Dad was busy organizing a bunch of little tags, not even registering that we were talking.

Brent’s side of the floor looked way more organized than mine; perfect piles of paper with shredded clippings on top of each one, numbers or names scribbled on top. “Yeah, uh—” Brent’s eyes scanned the piles in front of him before he reached out, snatching the page away so fast that the clipping on top of it fluttered off somewhere. “Here. You plan on organizing the comic thing, by the way?”

“Fuck off,” I murmured, nearly laughing when Brent’s head snapped towards Dad as he waited for the reprimand, and balked when he saw it wasn’t coming. I stuck my tongue out at Brent before looking at the inmate file, trying to keep my snickering as quiet as possible.

Hank Daughtry. Apparently some guy that was a criminal before puberty, who’d rob or break out of jail every chance he got — but never harmed a civilian when he did. Curdun Cay was the first place to keep him in place. At least, till that military vehicle.

The power section, though, held all of the answers I needed; he could wield smoke. Embers and fire, too, if the paper was to be believed. I could hear the echoes of Dad’s voice in the back of my head: “She thought the guy I got smoke from told me about her plan — the breakout and DUP funding, all that.”

Betty had said Dad helped bring down her warehouse when he first got his powers. The first power. Smoke.

But that didn’t explain why Dad was so quiet about this guy. Why, before this moment, I had never heard of him. “Dad?” I asked.

He tore his eyes away from the newspaper clipping in his hands. “What’s up?”

“What happened to this Hank guy? You know, after Seattle?” I glanced down at the file again — there wasn’t even a picture of the inmate on this one. There was a wall of blacked out text at the bottom of the file, though. “Did he not help you guys?”

Behind Dad, Dr. Sims stopped typing, looking over to where we sat. Even Brent stopped to see what Dad was gonna say.

“He didn’t.” Dad said simply, jaw clenched. “It was just me, Eugene and your mom that took on Augustine.”

Brent blinked. “What, did he not want to?”

“I wouldn’t have let him if he did. He was a piece of shit, anyways.”

I glanced down at the inmate file; moral code, immense self discipline. Whatever issue Dad had with him sure didn’t seem to match the document. “What happened to him?” I asked.

“Does it matter?”

Dad’s voice bit with a ferocity that wasn’t usual from him unless we were in trouble. “I mean,” I scrambled to say, the tone activating the fear of getting grounded in me, “I guess not? I was just wonder—”

“Then there you go. It doesn’t matter.” Dad inhaled deeply before continuing, “If Daughtry’s files don’t have anything useful in them, then do me a favor.”

“What?”

“Throw them in the trash.” Dad said flatly, moving to get up. He left towards the kitchen where Zeke was messing with the discarded stuff from another ammo box, roughly grabbing the stale pot of coffee to pour a cup and drink it black in one go like it was a shot.

I looked over at Brent, bewildered, who was already turning back to face me with his eyebrows shot up so high they were close to disappearing into his unkempt hair. He mouthed What the fuck? at me and all I could do is shrug, taking the rest of the papers in Daughtry’s pile to look over. May as well double check them before they became landfill food.

Not that there was much left in his pile; There were three more pages with no more than three paragraphs on the largest one, each following reports of Daughtry possibly being seen somewhere in Seattle after he broke out blowing up cars in an attempt to assassinate that asshole senator who was caught years ago saying something about how Hitlers policies at least were keeping people safe in that leaked audiofile as he admitted to trying to replicate them for Conduits.

One of the bullet points on the results of the DUP’s investigation caught my eye, though: no residual signs of Ray Sphere radiation detected. Radiation? Why would there be radiation in the middle of downtown Seattle? “Does anyone know what ray — Ray Sphere radiation is?” I asked the room.

Over in the kitchen, Zeke’s head popped up, looking to Dad for a moment. Whatever he was trying to ask, Dad gave him permission with a shrug of his shoulders. “The Blast in Empire City was from a Ray Sphere.” Zeke began. He took a moment to dig in a box before pulling out one of those leather journals that always looked a little too light brown to be real, brass metal corners of the journal catching the light as Zeke flipped it open. “The First Sons made it.”

He began walking towards us with the journal as he flipped through pages, humming when he landed on what he wanted to show us. “Here. Journal’s useless in some spots ‘cause it’s written in code, but this is what the thing looked like.”

He flipped the journal over and held it out for me to take; the page was a sketch, one side full of components, the other what they all looked like pulled together into one device.

Brent snorted beside me when he scooted over to look at it, and I knew it was because we were thinking the same thing. “It’s shaped like a Death Star,” He said humorously, looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

“Just as powerful, too.” Zeke responded. “Thing blew up six blocks and killed thousands.”

That shut Brent up real fast.

“But I don’t—” I cut off, looking down at the drawing. The etchings beside each piece were all code, the only one highlighted being a jagged piece of rock. “Why would the DUP look for Ray Sphere radiation at an explosion site? Unless they thought someone was trying to take out Seattle.”

Dr. Sims moved off of the barstool, walking over. “May I?” he asked me, giving a nod of thanks when I handed the journal over. He perused the page and then looked at Zeke. “Where did you get this?”

“It was Wolfe’s,” Zeke answered.

That one word was enough to make Dad’s head snap up, and he turned around. “Raymond Wolfe?” He asked.

Zeke shook his head. “Sebastian, his brother.”

“Oh,” Dad said flatly. “The First Sons scientist. Great,”

Zeke shrugged, gracefully brushing off Dad’s disapproval. “Hey man, sometimes you have to be willing to drink the poison if it means you find out how it would kill someone. We used this to figure out how the RFI worked.”

Dr. Sims flipped through the next few pages, eyes lighting up. “I know this code,” he murmured, before looking up at Dad and Zeke and repeating the words. “I know this code — it was in one of the DUP files I stole. I could decode this journal,”

“Y’think it would have anything that would help us in it?” Dad asked.

Zeke looked over his shoulder. “Wolfe was the First Son’s top scientist. If there’s anyone that might have information, it would have been him.” Zeke shrugged. “I reckon it’s worth a shot.”

Dr. Sims snapped the journal shut, nodding. “I’ll move upstairs to the spare room, I’m going to need the space.” He said decisively. Each laptop was put in rest mode and shut, stored away at a speed I didn’t know what possible out of someone so lanky. “D, come get me if you all make any progress down here, okay?”

Dad looked at Zeke. “Do you still have the stuff from the runaround with Wolfe?”

Zeke turned to face Dad fully, watching Dr. Sims disappear up the stairs. “No, I gave it all to Alessia. She might still have it, if we’re lucky.”

Both Brent and my head shot up. “Wait, like, Aunt Sia?” I asked, looking at Dad.

Alessia was known to the world as the chairwoman of COLE and an old ringleader of Project Sanctuary, the nationwide underground anti-DUP movement. In those seven years the DUP had control and were hunting down Conduits to bag and tag, Alessia was trying to sneak Conduits over the border, stage protests, and…well, give the DUP a hard time. If it involved picketing or slashing tires, she was there, coordinating the attacks.

We didn’t know her as that woman for the longest time, though. To us, she was Aunt Sia; the woman who would watch us when Dad had to go take an exam while he was in school, or needed a break. A babysitter that cared so much about us. The cool lady who brought these fancy Japanese candies every time she’d come over and would take us to things like renaissance faires. I remember her teaching Dad how to braid my hair and making huge masterpieces out of legos with Brent, indulging me by declaring every little drawing I made a masterpiece. She had moved away six or seven years ago and we really only got to see her when there was some big COLE event near Portland.

But I was surprised to find out that she knew Dad as Delsin and not just Damion.

Dad’s eyes wandered off as he thought. “I…I could call her, see if she still has anything from then.” Eyes snapping back to Zeke, he added, “You’d have to show me how to make calls with your setup, though,”

“‘Course, it’s in my shed. C’mon, I’ll show ya,”

Zeke was heading towards the door with Dad hot on his heels, who only stopped in its frame to turn to Brent and I and say, “Take any notes on anything you don’t understand, okay? Maybe we’ll figure something out.”

He was gone before we responded.

“You think this was what he did the whole time?” Brent asked, looking at me and holding up the stack of files he hadn’t gone through yet. “Just reading files and shit?”

I shrugged. “Don’t know. Last I heard he was attacking innocent civilians and killing random passersby.”

Brent rolled his eyes. “How he dealt with all of this without killing someone, I’ll never understand.”

We worked in silence for a while, me taking the time to finish the story and begin to piece it to its pieces of evidence; Saisei had found a new friend, a bird with two heads, and it wasn’t hard to make the connection on who that was supposed to represent. He would tell her stories, and they would laugh for hours on end, the page said, largely contrasting the story Dad had told us. It had to be some sort of mockery thing; I send you running around, and you try to figure out why I’m a psycho. What a laugh!

But the dragon came down, disapproving of their banter. I fail to see the humor, it said, to which the two-headed representation of Dad replied look harder before beginning to fight her. The personification of Augustine. An epic battle of good and evil…but the roles were debatable the page read, like I was supposed to sympathize with Augustine as she fell to Dad’s talons.

I wasn’t ready to read the little bunny call Augustine’s character Mama.

“Look at this shit,” Brent murmured, handing me a page. It was an email log between two people. “Does this make sense to you?”

It made a lot of sense, too much sense, as I read the first message title: Purotekutā to me (“Saisei”).

I explained the comic to Brent as we reread the email chains together, the pieces of the truth falling in place. “Augustine asked her to stay in the shadows, that she can’t protect Celia.” I looked at Brent, bewildered. “D’you think she adopted Celia? Like, as her own kid?”

“Well she calls Augustine Mama in this thing—” he waved around the stack of stapled manga, “So I’m guessing so. Or whatever fucked up version of ‘family’ they were playing up there in Curdun Cay,”

“‘You have done everything I asked and more, but unless he can be controlled, Delsin is our enemy.’” I read from the email chain. “‘He is blinded by his power, he thinks he’s invincible. But without walls, without his brother, who will protect him?’”

Brent scoffed. “What a bitch. I should have killed her when we were fighting in the Sound.”

“Think that’s crazy, you should read the last entry on this thing.” I said, offering the paper with the email chain. “Celia messages Augustine saying something about needing to know whose purpose was stronger and that’s why she didn’t try to help her.”

Brent shrugged, taking it. “Raise a lunatic, and don’t be surprised when you’re eventually their victim.”

“Augustine really made everyone her pawn,” I hummed. “Mom, Dr. Sims, this chick. How much of it do you think was to protect Conduits?”

“Not enough, considering she lost.” Brent huffed.

#infamous second son #infamous #infamous erosion #delsin rowe #sucker punch productions #Eugene Sims #Fetch Walker #hehehehehehehehehe #Celia Penderghast #Brooke Augustine #Zeke Dunbar #God I wanna say the OC too but I know Gab's nosey ass reads tags first so I CAN'T #But heho #I forgot literally every other tag. pretend they're here.

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mlwritersguild · 11 months

Note

Chloé wakes up one morning and realizes she immediately needs to talk to the heroes of Paris. at least, that would be the decent thing to do, given there must be an akuma on the loose they are unaware of. she could even help them out with its powers, if she felt so inclined, as they obviously have something to do with brain-washing or psychological manipulation. after all, what other explanation could there be for the absurdly sudden and even more ridiculous feeling that she's in love with Luka Couffaine?

A Sour Pill, by AzuriteArtist

AO3 link; POV Chloe Bourgeois, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Good Chloé Bourgeois, Chloé Bourgeois-centric, Mentioned Luka Couffaine, Chloé Bourgeois/Luka Couffaine

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

Chloe grabbed Chat’s arm, pulling against it, trying not to let them leave the hotel's roof.

“No, you have to believe me!” Chloe demanded.

“Chloe, you have a crush. No one else is reporting anything. We’re not judging you. I know this must be—” Ladybug said, giving a sympathetic smile.

Chloe groaned. They weren’t listening to her! She wasn’t feeling like this when she went to bed. It was an akuma!

“So the akuma is just targeting me, then! It’s obviously Luka! He’s messing with my head via brainwashing akuma powers, trying to get me to believe things that I do NOT believe! It’s awful! Utterly awful!” Chloe exclaimed, stomping her foot down on the floor.

Chat smirked, rolling his eyes. “Why don’t you tell us when it all started then? You said you woke up like this? Well, what were you doing yesterday?”

Chloe thought back.

She sighed. “I was attending Zoe’s birthday party. Her party’s decorations needed my skill and Jean-Marc’s ladder.”

Zoe’s party had been pretty good already, but Chloe hadn’t spent 14 years planning mock galas for nothing.

“And?” Ladybug questioned.

“Well, while I’m not one to be a wallflower, this was Zoe’s day, so I was on my phone by the juice bar. That was all that happened,” Chloe declared.

“Chloe,” Ladybug probed.

“Okay, fine. Luka walked up, and like, he’s always had such a weird style, but in the party lighting it honestly did work,” Chloe rambled.

She looked up to see Ladybug and Chat Noir grinning.

“Hey! I want to be a fashion designer. I can appreciate styles,” she insisted.

“Sorry, go on,” Chat said.

“Yeah, as I was saying. We were at the bar, and he just started talking at me. All about how ‘your grand organ sounds different’ and ‘it’s much less intimidating, more accommodating’. Honestly, what on earth was he going on about?” Chloe questioned.

“Luka’s just like that, he's very good at understanding people via music,” Ladybug chimed in.

Chloe rolled her eyes, “Despite my best judgement, we started chatting. He’s quite interesting, for someone who lives in the Seine. He’s got this black nail polish and eyeliner and it’s quite a cute look, in a punk sorta way—see! That’s exactly it! The akuma is messing with my thoughts!” Chloe pleaded.

Chloe scrunched her eyes. Why was this happening to her? She didn’t have a crush on him! He played guitar on a boat, and he wasn’t famous or rich enough for that to be hot yet! He was passive, he was quiet, and he wore clothes from second-hand stores and jeans that weren’t intentionally distressed!

Ladybug’s bug phone then interrupted, chiming out an alert.

“Looks like your theory might not hold water. Syren is back,” Ladybug said, holding up the news article for Chloe to see.

Chloe froze.

“But- that means that…” Chloe choked out.

Ladybug took a running leap off the rooftop, splashing down into the Seine.

“Yeah, listen Chloe. I’ve gotta jet—”

“Wait, do you need Queen Bee?!” Chloe whispered, stroking where the comb would be on her head. She desperately wanted a distraction, and hanging out under the water sounded perfect.

Chat thought for a second, before shaking his head. “Maybe just focus on calling your newfound crush,” he smirked, before leaping off the building too.

---

Chloe paced around her suite, phone in hand. She could do this, she was strong, she was brave, and she wasn’t afraid to do something as simple as calling someone.

She quickly pressed the call button before her brain could catch up, almost dropping the phone in response.

She stared in horror as the dialling tone played before it was picked up.

“Hello?” came Luka’s voice.

“Hey, it’s Chloe.”

#ml writers guild #miraculous ladybug #ml fic #ml writers guild requests #mlb #chloé bourgeois #chloé x luka #luka couffaine #ladybug #chat noir #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir

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arcplaysgames · 1 year

Text

AT LAST I FINALLY FOUND YOU, YOINK

throbbing king of desire, lmao, did you have fun there localizers?

this place is so fuck ugly i'm sorry i keep gettign distracted going "why does this look so bad" lmao. Atlus, I have notes for you and it's what the fuck are these textures.

BECAUSE YOU TOOK AWAY MY FRIEND IGOR AND YOUR VELVET ROOM FUCKING BLOWS, NEXT QUESTION

god i suddenly remember in P4G i was hypothesizing what cool liminal space the P5 Velvet Room would be. we had elevator and then limo and then.... a prison. i think I was hoping for a train car, which LET'S BE FUCKING REAL, THAT WOULD HAVE FIT PERFECTLY INTO THIS FUCKING GAME. Reverie hopping on the train and walking to the conductor's booth and putting a Velvet Key in the door so it opens to another dimension? that would have been SO FUCKING COOL

AND YALDABOATH TOOK IT FROM US

(autocorrect is like "do you mean whaleboat" lmao)

lmao i love you Morgana. "And?" same energy as "ahem a dumbass says what"

Morgana would so pull that too because Morgana is a perfect character who I will kill for. I am asking to kill for Morgana.

Anyway, we go up against Holy Grailaboath but it's a DISTACTION of course

BRUUUUUUH

that's pretty cool

actually like we're gonna recap but straight up: this ending is still kind of an ass pull like P4G, but not even nearly as severe of an ass pull, like the player gets ZERO in universe hints of whomst the fucketh Yaldaboath is, but at least we have the context of "oh Evil Igor" to go with, so it's not nearly as bad as "The gas station attendant was the Mother of Japan."

ALL THAT SAID, at least this ending Fucks, which P4G did not. P4G should have ended with Adachi and I stand by that bc Izanami was a massive disappointment. Even if I can kvetch about the similarities between this ending and P4G and how much is just a rehash

P5R is like what if the P4G ending was Hot And Sexy, so it is a wild improvement in that sense. It has scale and spectacle on its side, and BALLS TO THE WALL AUDACITY.

Anyway, this fight literally took me 58 minutes, from my save point before the final boss to the point after the cutscenes when the game finally went "yo, you wanna save?" And it's a fun, dynamic fight that at least nods at the brilliance of the Nyx fight in P3P. Yaldy has all the usual tools of the Magician, the bell, the book, the blade, and the... uh.

YOU KNOW I was gonna make a joke about this but HONESTLY? HONESTLY? A gun is a decent replacement for the wand. That's not even a bit.

He's got some bullshit status effects but really, nothing struck fear of god into my heart like when Reverie, armed with Athena and her 53 STR score, got hit with the Jealousy Brainwash and literally almost one hit KOed Mona three times in a row. My fucking PANIC.

Eventually, the game goes into the "okay you beat the boss so here's your cinematic ending" mode like usual. Yaldy starts cheating again and beating the shit out of the Thieves with bullshit total party wipe spells.

kisses morgana on his perfect lil head

oh my god its you

Mishima is like if Issun from Okami was somehow even worse, so he has to show up to rally the masses into clapping their hands and believing in the Phantom Thieves

I'M DOING THIS FOR YOSHIDA TORANOSUKE!!!!!!

AND OUR DAD (BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE)

listen

i'm gonna just

let this one go, okay. i can't criticize every damn thing and its fine because

are you fucking JOKING, are you KIDDING ME, Reverie just summons a COSMIC EVANGELION to beat the god of control with

fucking SATANAEL, who, what, stood with the Demiurge Yaldaboath until realizing his true nature and turning against him, the Gnostic version of Lucifer?

so satan saves christmas

Atlus, you are a bunch of fucking hilarious weirdos, thank you for this moment of sheer fucking ridiculousness

the degree to which this is cooler than Myriad Truths cannot be overstated

sometimes style is substance and this is one of those times

anywhere, where is philharmonic, they need to show up and explain why the fuck they keep letting this shitbird cheat at these dumb fucking causality-deciding games they play, goddammit

#p5 #persona liveblog

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 2 months

Text

Bedtime Stories

Pairing: Maedhros/Tulkas & Telimektar (Adopted son of Maedhros and Tulkas)

Prompt: "They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true.” Big Fish

Themes: Soft | Humor | Modern AU/Alternate universe – Canon divergence (Major canon divergence)

Warnings: Major character deaths prior to the beginning of the story | Mentions of scarring and loss of limb

Wordcount: 1.4k words

Summary: Telimektar, the adopted son of Tulkas and Maedhros, asks for a story on how his fathers met.

Also available on AO3

“It’s already past your bedtime, and you need to sleep,” declared Tulkas, smiling. He stood by the doorway, watching his son struggle to hide the torch he used to read the latest comic book that had been a gift from his godparents. “What have you got there, anyway?”

Telimektar sheepishly held it up when his father flipped on the light and walked in.

“Ah!” Tulkas recognized the bold, white font in a heartbeat. “Avatar. Excellent choice, Tel, but you still need to sleep. Give that to me, and you can have it if you wake up before your alarm in the morning.”

“But I can’t sleep!” Telimektar cried, tightening his fists around his blanket. He was all of nine, and already tall—nowhere near as tall as the men he came to call father, but he was tall all the same. And he acted very much his age. “Come on, dad, let me read a little longer. Please.”

“Not tonight,” Tulkas returned, firmly but kindly. “It’s a school night. Get some sleep, alright?”

“A little longer,” his son whined. He surrendered the comic to his father all the same. “Please, please, please. At least tell me a story if you don’t want me to read.”

Stubborn little thing, Tulkas thought fondly, the comic still in his hand. “Very well,” he agreed, returning the book to its place in the bookcase. “One story, and then off to bed. What story would you like to hear?”

“How you met dad!”

Tulkas, startled, nearly wrinkled his face in distaste. The tale of how he met his husband was a dark and dreadful one, full of despair and blood and violence, and wholly unsuitable for a child. Still, it was what his son wanted to hear, so he decided to tell it after making many changes to his tale.

"They say when you meet the love of your life, time stops, and that’s true,” Tulkas began, pacing his son’s room slowly as he wove his tale. “Even for your fathers. Once, your great-grandfather, Finwë, ruled over his family and this great city as its king. He had a son; he was your late grandfather, Fëanor.”

His son sat up in bed, eagerly listening to everything he heard. Telimektar already knew of Finwë and Fëanor, and that they both perished in a battle against darkness. Still, there was something to be said about hearing such tales from the mouths of his fathers and not the others.

“I believe you know there was a great and mighty lord named Melkor,” Tulkas continued, “and you know he was a Vala, just like me. What you don’t know is that he was imprisoned for a long time in Lumbi after he did a lot of terrible things to the others.”

“What others?”

“The elves that came before your father and grandfather. Melkor hated them.”

“Why?”

“That’s a long and complicated tale in itself, Tel. And I would rather keep it until your dad and I can talk to you about it properly. Now. Do you want me to go on about how it all happened?”

“Yes!” His son insisted, greedy to hear more.

“All right.” Tulkas walked toward the window, his bare feet shuffling over the thick carpet, barely making a sound. He braced his hands against the window sill and peered at the moonlit sky. “It all started on a night like this, with a full moon hanging high in the sky. You see, Tel, the Valar pardoned Melkor after he served his time in Lumbi, and he was allowed to live with the rest of us. We thought he had changed his ways, but unfortunately, he hadn’t. He still envied the elves. He hated that the Valar imprisoned him for their sake, and he wanted the sacred jewels your grandfather made. Three times he asked for them, and three times your grandfather refused him.”

“Did grandpa really tell him to get off the lawn after he asked the third time?” Telimektar interrupted, his eyes brimming with glee.

“Aye. That he did, and very colorfully too, I might add.” Tulkas turned to face his son, laughing. “And Lord Melkor didn’t like it. He became so angry that he decided to take the jewels by force instead.”

What a dark time that was, and not just because the Two Trees were destroyed. A king was brutally slain. The son who tried to shield him was also brutally slain. Melkor then defeated and captured Maedhros, just to show the others that he could do as he wished to whomever he wished and that there was nothing that they could do to stop him. The Valar, already regretting their decision to pardon him, reached their breaking point when news of the slaughter was brought to them.

“King Finwë died a warrior’s death, as did his son,” Tulkas said instead. There was time enough for Telimektar to hear the more harrowing details that had not gone beyond the lips of the Ainur and the older members of the royal family. “Your father nearly followed in their footsteps, but Melkor took him as a prisoner instead.”

“And you rescued him?” His son asked, still eager.

“I did.” Tulkas returned to his son’s side and sat on the edge of the bed. “On the back of Thorondor, king of the great eagles. There was a great war, and Melkor was distracted. Your dad… well, let’s just say he was in a very poor state when I found him. And he had been treated very badly.”

Telimektar had seen the missing right hand, the bionic hand that served in its place, and the scars on his other father’s face and arms and legs. He had never dared to ask what had happened. Now he had some idea.

“And did time truly stop when you saw him?” he questioned.

“It did. Immediately for me.” For Tulkas, it was when Maedhros opened his eyes and looked up at him during that fateful flight back to the camp. Oh, the Vala had seen the prince often enough, but never that close, and never under such circumstances. But when the elf looked at him at that moment, everything around them seemed to freeze in time. The feathers of the great eagle that bore them across a blighted land didn’t even rustle. The fires raging beneath them were all locked in place, as if they and the thick smoke that spiraled all around them were trapped within unseen walls. Elves and orcs that fought each other looked like toy soldiers, waiting for some unseen hand to move them across the battlefield. “For your father, it was much later—after he got better, and when he was able to trust others again.”

His son was not satisfied. “And did you ever fight Lord Melkor?

“I did, and during that same war,” his father replied, rising. He grabbed the nearest plushie and put on an elaborate display of wrestling an imaginary foe to the ground, all for his son’s amusement. “We fought hard, and we fought for a long time. Melkor was still strong. He was determined to win. But it was I who won in the end, while lightning split the sky and the land shook beneath our feet. I looked at him after I pinned him to the ground, and I said—"Tulkas stopped, and hesitated. He was being watched, but not by his son. When he lifted his head, he found Maedhros leaning against the doorpost, his arms crossed over his chest. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. Tulkas stood up, red-faced and embarrassed. "—Well, I said something terribly regrettable.”

“And it’s time you went to sleep,” added Maedhros. He came in to help Tulkas tuck their son in. “Now, young man. That’s an order.”

Later, after they left for their own bedroom, Tulkas removed the bionic hand that had been specially made by Aulë and placed it carefully in its box. “Are you angry that I told our son about how we met?”

“No.” Maedhros sighed in relief when his husband applied an ointment to what remained to him of his right arm and massaged it thoroughly. “I’d rather he heard it from one of us than someone else. And did you really mean it? Did time really stop for you the day you rescued me?”

“Aye. I did. Now it’s off to bed for you too,” Tulkas said, smiling. “You have a council meeting in the morning.”

“I will,” his husband returned, grinning like anything. “But only after you tell me a story.”

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

#matters of the heart series #tulkas #maedhros #tulkas/maedhros #telimektar #the valar #the ainur #modern au #canon divergent au #💫a world of whimsy writes

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 2 years

Text

Everyone Has to Eat

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing.\

Noctus stared down the tip of Sunny’s spear, cold steel glinting not a few inches away from his face. Adam could hear the little coward’s thoughts as they ran circles inside his head. Could he escape, could he trick them, could he lie? Is there someone he could call for help. He didn’t know what Adam had meant about sending his maker friend to deal with the guards but the bastard was sure to get a nasty surprise once he learned…

Adam keyed his mic, “Celex, how are you holding up.”

The mic went to static for a moment, and for a second he worried something had happened to his old friend until, “Right peachy, you don’t happen to be calling me to tell me that these bastards got void creatures inside of them?’

Adam paused, “Uh, yeah.”

“Don’t bother.”

“You okay.”

“Like you have to ask.”

Adam shrugged to himself, he supposed he shouldn’t have been worried about the universe’s most bloodthirsty warlord, now with opposable thumbs and a pair of legs, coming to a theater near you in ultra 4k.

Noctus didn’t seem pleased about the side of the conversation he had heard, and had probably managed to guess what was going on.

Adam shook him by the scruff of his neck, “Go on, we are all dying to hear what you have to say.”

“Fine!.” The tesraki snapped, “W-”

“And make it entertaining.” Adamsaid, I want to hear everything. Paint me a picture with words.

The Tesraki barred his teeth again, but this time he slumped downwards with defeat written in the lines of his body.

Adam held up the vial, “Is that where.” he motioned generally in Noctus’s direction, “Where all that came from.”

Noctus pulled his ears back flat against his skull, but a stern look from Adam kept him from causing much more trouble. Instead he dangled helplessly by the scruff of his neck from Adam’s hand, legs curled up to his chest like a kitten in his mother’s mouth.

Start from the beginning, “How did you start working with Kazna.”

The Tesraki was unwilling to speak, but Sunny gave him all the encouragement she could, through the open threat of violence. No one in the room seemed eager to stop her either. Even Adam knew that, when it came to Sunny’s mother, there was no argument to be made.

“We were in prison together as you recall. I escaped and she didn’t, well at least not at the same time. I’ve been working to keep a low profile these past few years, got myself involved in the metal refinery industry, all very low profile, mostly metal sheeting for space ships and that sort of thing. Pays pretty well.” he said, motioning to the room around him for emphasis, and all of its lavish decorations.

“Still did some smuggling on the side of course, nothing big, mostly cheap knockoffs going against copyright laws, all the easy kind of stuff places don’t really care about. Human knock off brand items sell for really well on the Tesraki homeworld, and with so many of them, the bastards can’t get enough. Throw Noctopolis into the mix, and its good pickings.”

“Is this the part where I start to give a shit?” Red asked finally having recovered from his fall, and the subsequent attack, now leaning against one of the black glass pillars as he listened.

The Tesraki glowered at him, “Wasn’t talking to you.” he spat on the floor, as much as a tesraki can spit, which isn’t particularly well.

“Anyway there I was, living my life and doing things the way I do. Then you got the GA come in, make Noctopolis a part of their system, take all the border planets, begin their patrols, they are eddeling more than they ever have. My business starts to struggle, parts of my business anyway. More policing more checkpoints more more more, We weren’t doing them any real harm, just the cooperations, it shouldn’t have mattered, but they had to come in and ruin everything for those of us who weren’t smart enough to be stable in the first place.” he patted his chest in congratulations, “Couple of us got together and formed a little group of…. Entrepreneurs so you might say. We work to get the goods where they need to go while only the people who need to see the have to be involved. He glowered at Adam again, “No one gets hurt, no one has any problems.”

“I think you mean had.” Adam said shaking the vial in front of the Tesraki’s face.

Noctus shrugged, “Okay then, had, if you insist. When Kazna got out of her prison, maybe a year or so after she killed that kelly woman, she came to me.” he raised his hands, “now I am going to be honest, I didn’t really want to help the bitch but she drives a hard bargain and in the end I just couldn’t say no.”

“Tell us about the bargain, rat.” Sunny said, jamming her spear forward until it nicked the skin at the base of the Tesraki’s throat.

Noctus waved away the tip of her spear, “Simple, my blue friend, I did what she wanted or she would kill me, plain as that. Wasn’t too thrilled about it at first, but the longer I worked with her the more I realized that this was actually a very great business opportunity for me. A great opportunity for all of us, me and my colleagues and the hundreds of others who became invested in the plan the longer we looked into it. Personally, I am in it for the money, always have been always will be, but the others….. There is a strange religious fervor to them.”

Adam shook his head, more out of confusion than any sort of disagreement. Distantly the sound of the fires and the metal refinery could still be heard as a low and indistinct rumble that echoed through the facility and bounced off the stone, “That doesn’t make sense, why would people WILLINGLY join the void. They do understand that those bastards are looking to terminate life as far as we understand it?”

Noctus laughed, “Poor Naieve STUPID boy. This isn’t about the end of the world as we know it, this is about them, their own selfish wants and desires.” he brushed a hand through the front of his fur, “People want to belong, they want to matter, some of them don’t care what they belong to or what matters as long as they can leave something Our organization is giving a voice to those who have never had a voice before, a purpose to the purposeless, companionship for all of those that have been forsaken by your precious makers.”

Maverick shook her head in disgust.

Noctus snorted, “Don’t be a hypocrite, I’ve seen your shadow, human. Besides, think about it, the makers take their own children, throw them down into these constructed bodies to suffer and die. Think of all the horrible things that the makers could prevent if they simply took care of their own children, all of the suffering that might be prevented. But instead they just threw us down here and don’t even bother to pay attention, never bothered to do anything to help us. “

“They did that to protect us FROM the void.” Adam said, shaking the tesraki, “They put us away to avoid THIS.” He held up the vial, “this is the exact reason why they couldn’t keep us around because they knew we could be corrupted. Look as a father I don’t want my son to get hurt, but I might have to let him suffer pain in order to protect him from something worse.”

“That’s not how the people see it,”

“Your people are stupid.”

Noctus shrugged, “Stupid maybe, misguided, perhaps, but angry and willing to do whatever it takes, they most certainly are. Thousands of them have already eagerly taken the power provided to them by our general, and thousands more will take it in the near future, even now our network has spread all over the galaxy infecting even the highest levels of government, When this is all over….. No one will be safe.”

Adam shook his head.

“At the end of the day you all are still a minority terrorist organization. And if I have to, I will weed you out one by one.”

Noctus just laughed.

Just then Adam’s radio crackled.

“Uh, Adam. yo uare going to want to come take a look at this.”

With a growl Adam pulled up, keeping Noctus caught tight by the scruff of his neck as he turned and headed towards the doors doing his best to skirt around the center of the floor where he knew the trapdoor lay concealed. Noctus continued to cackle lightly to himself, while the looks on the faces of the others were hard and cold.

They were just as worried as he was.

Celex’s call lead them down through the facility, away from the glass and marble palace and back into the steel refinery. There were no guards to be seen, but plenty of the workers still milled about. Most of them didn’t do much work, but a few of them glanced nervously in Adam’s direction, others cowered on the floor.

It seemed as if Celex had been by this way,

And recently.

They headed down a few more flights, through a series of dark hallways and as they went the rooms began to slowly grow in heat, until Adam was sweating even despite his partial armor.

Inside his helmet. Fealty was growing with agitation displeased at the growing heat,

Red panted like a dog

Maverick looked miserable, and only Ramirez and Sunny seemed unbothered by the heat, which was almost to be expected.

Luckily there was only one more set of stairs downward before they found themselves walking onto another large factory floor. They all stopped at the top of the catwalk looking out onto the floor with a mixture of awe and growing horror.

Celex was waiting for them at the top of the catwalk holding a struggling worker in one of his hands.

It was a man, surprisingly, almost all human except for the shattered bone shards protruding from his chest. Celex himself looked none the worse for wear, even the heat didn’t bother the Ex Celzex , whose technicolor hair rolled around his shoulders in loose waves which undulated gently with the heat of the fire.

“Celex, what is this.” Adam asked, eyes still riveted on the floor,

“This, is the means of distribution.”

Down on the floor lines of glowing orange vials were being pumped into industrial sized canisters of insecticide, massive tanks in all shapes and sizes with different company logos and origins headed to different destinations.

The void was banking on the one thing that everyone had in common to spread the infection.

Everyone had to eat.

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