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imjusttpeachy · 4 years

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bumpy roads & broken promises. (c.h.)

EDIT: Lmaoooo I did not expect this to actually get notes, thanks guys! I already made it onto someone’s fic recs-- I feel special. Actually might end up writing more if this gets more attention. :^)

I wrote this as a vent/comfort fic for myself but figured others might like it. Corpse has been my new safety youtuber ever since the old nosleep reader--deep voice/no face gamer went to shit so... yeah.

Heavily inspired by @mmonamona ‘s fic “Petty Fights and Lonely Nights” just more angst.

playlist

feng suave - sink into the floor

current joys - a different age

feng suave - venus flytrap

rei ami - do it right

summary: Corpse gets frustrated with work and snaps at the reader when she tries to ask what’s wrong, triggering a bad memory from a past relationship.

word count: 2, 932

WARNINGS: she/her pronouns used, coarse language, shouting, panic attacks, reference to past relationship trauma (no retelling, nothing detailed)

(angst, hurt/comfort, crying! lots of it)

>>>

“God would you just fuck off already?!”

Frozen. Your body tensed up as the deep growl echoed through the cramped dark room.

You had been staying at your boyfriend’s apartment for about a week while you were on break from college. Flying out from the UK to California so you could spend as much time as you could with him before ultimately having to return to 5am facetimes while drowning in papers and essays.

Even before you’d booked the tickets, Corpse was already apologizing for everything under the sun. The size of his apartment and its cleanliness, the fact that he couldn’t do much more than order take out for you, his irregular sleeping patterns.. the list could go on and on. And while you assured him every time that you didn’t care, that you were coming to see him— not his apartment, not home cooked meals, and definitely not to scrutinize him for things he couldn’t control due to his mental health. But he wouldn’t buy it.

Not one bit.

He’d offer you a weary half-smile, pulling you into his chest or ruffling your hair before placing a soft kiss on your temple and changing the subject. You didn’t press any further knowing how often he was at war with his own mind and couldn’t help but think the worse of every situation.

As the days carried on, you’d spent most of your time tangled up in each other. Whether it be a movie, or playing some co-op games, or even just laying in his bed with him, you could barely stand to spend any time apart. But, of course, you were adults with responsibilities that would tear you from one another eventually. While you did miss his presence every second he wasn’t around, you couldn’t help but try to make his life even better for when he got back and for when you’d eventually have to leave him once again. Now, a week into your stay, his apartment was a good amount tidier than how it’d been when you arrived. The cupboards and fridge were stocked with groceries that would hopefully last for some time after you left, on top of the home made meals you’d make together or for him everyday. New picture frames were hung up on the wall of the two of you that you’d gifted to him when you arrived; it actually started to feel like home. Well, as much as it could without those familiar strong arms wrapped around you every second of the day.

Unfortunately, this evening was one of those times. Corpse had already been locked up in his office for a few hours now, the sounds of button mashing and frustrated exclamations making its way through the thin walls every so often bringing an amused smile to your face. He’d woken up a bit anxious already knowing he’d have to both leave you alone and put up a brave front for the stream that was planned that evening. You didn’t push him or try to talk about it, knowing that it would just make it worse; so you two had spent the day as it normally would (though he always looked and felt on edge) until he was forced to retreat back into that dreaded workspace.

You occupied yourself on your phone and laptop for a while, checking up on friends, reviewing anything you’d need for the upcoming semester, just scrolling through your socials— y’know, the works. But by the time you’d gotten bored with your scrolling, you’d notice it was a perfect time to start dinner that you’d hopefully be able to eat together with Corpse. You’d gotten to work right away, doing your best to be as quiet as you could to not disturb his work as the different aromas began to spread through the small kitchen in his apartment. Finishing up the dishes after the meal was all cooked, you dished up two servings and set them on the coffee table in front of the couch before you went to retrieve your other half.

Turning the knob of his office door slowly, you peered into the dark room; only the silhouette of the floppy mop of hair you adored so much was able to be seen in the dim light of his computer monitors. Taking a hard look at his right-most monitor you notice an editing software pulled up instead of the usual live chat he had on while streaming, so without any worry of interrupting you opened the door and stepped into the room. It was a cozy room for sure, and it always seemed to smell just like him— which of course is a given but with how much time he spent in this room, it was even more so present. Walking up slowly to his right side so you wouldn’t startle him with just your voice you watched his gaze flick to your form before steadying itself back in the monitor. Furrowing your brows at his strange behaviour but not letting it get to you, you opened your mouth to speak.

“I made dinner!” You smiled down at him, taking a few steps back toward the door so he would be able to get out of his gaming chair without you in his space. However, the hunched form of your focused boyfriend didn’t move an inch. Your heart sunk a little at his attitude but decided to just try again.

“Corpse, baby, dinners ready.”

“I’m not hungry.” The short statement left his mouth in a low grumble, if you hadn’t spent all this time with him studying his voice and begging him to speak more to you, you probably wouldn’t have been able make it out at all. You huffed out a sigh, this was new for him, you really hadn’t seen him as anything other than the cuddly baby you’d grown to know and love. But, you thought to yourself, love would come with days like this and it was bound to happen eventually. Trying your best to not get frustrated or angry with his snappy attitude, you kept your voice light and cheery as you tried again to coax him out to eat.

“Corpse you’ve barely eaten today I-“

“I said I’m not hungry.” Startling at the angry tone you’d never heard from him before, you could feel yourself start to get choked up. Pulling your hands up to hug your arms, trying to sooth yourself, you could feel yourself starting to slowly freeze up. Goosebumps ran over your skin, a chill snaking it’s way up your spine as you gulped, trying your best to muster up the bravery to speak again. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, he knew how the tone affected you— he was usually even the one to comfort you after an episode triggering something like this. As your mouth began to run dry, you took a deep breath deciding that he would definitely come to his senses in the next moments, you opened your mouth to speak again.

“Is everything alri-“

“I’m FINE! I’m not a FUCKING CHILD I don’t need you constantly checking up on me! God would you just fuck off already!”

You didn’t even notice the tears dripping off your cheeks until they splashed against the bare skin of your hand. Slipping into the defense mode you knew so well, your body switched onto autopilot as you began to backpedal out of the room, almost tripping a few times as you sputtered out a choked “okay, I’m sorry,” before closing his door once again and stumbling messily down the hallway to his room. Your mind was moving a thousand miles a minute yet was completely blank at the same time, and before you knew it you were tucked away inside the dark closet in his room.

This was the routine, this is where you’d be safe.

Trying to slow your erratic breathing you hugged your knees even closer to your chest, praying that in some way it would ease your shaking body. But inevitably, you felt the sobs that you’d kept trapped in your throat since you’d left break through. Your chest heaved with the breaths you took to keep your sobs as silent as possible. You thought you had trained yourself well enough for this, you’d done this a million times before— but in the back of your mind you knew that this time it was different. Shrinking into the corner of the closet, the only thing on your mind was all the broken promises he’d sworn to keep.

>>>

Corpse sighed, his body weighing him down in his chair heavily, head aching with all the work he’d been doing that evening. Pulling his attention back, he stretched his arms as his sore eyes glanced over at the clock in the corner of his screen. 11:34pm. Fuck. That much time had passed already? Raking a hand through his hair he yawned sleepily, he knew he should probably spend more time working before calling it a night but all he wanted to do was curl up in bed with you-

Shit.

Finally snapping out of the heavy trance he’d set himself in every time he sat down to edit, he thought back to the last time he had seen you— calling him for dinner where he snapped at you to leave him alone… almost 3 hours ago. The memories of the past moment flooded into his head and seconds later he was scrambling out of his chair and out into the hallway. It was dead silent, Corpse felt like his heart was practically breaking his ribs with how hard it was pounding in his chest. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Gripping at the right side of his shirt he rushed into the living room, rubbing frantically at his eyes as they darted around the room quickly looking for any sign of you.

“(Y/N), baby?” He rasped out, voice caught in his throat, walking through the living room and spotting the now cold meals she’d prepared waiting uneaten on the coffee table. His heart sunk as he hurried to the kitchen only to see the rest of the meal out on the counter, not doing anything to ease his mind. He called your name again and again; rushing back into the living room his eyes darted to the front door, a tiny bit of relief pricking his system as he saw the door was still locked and latched, as well as seeing your shoes and jacket by the door. Rushing back into the hallway he peeked into the bathroom, flicking on the light switch and with no sign of you, continued down the hallway to his room.

“(Y/N), please baby.” Flicking on the light his eyes scanned the room not catching a single sight of you-- when he heard it. Slowing his breathing down as much as he could in his panicked state he focused in his hearing on the small heaves of air coming from the closet. Stomach dropping, Corpse collapsed onto his knees, legs giving way from underneath him when he realized where you were and what was happening. Crawling his way toward the closet door he stopped right outside of it, he heard your breath hitch and knew you were holding it out of practiced instinct which made him want to vomit. But it wasn’t about him right now, so with a deep breath he finally managed to whisper out.

>>>

“Princess, I’m gonna open the door okay?”

Finally releasing the breath you had been holding, your lungs heaved for air as light flooded into the dark closet. Peeking an eye out from where it was buried in your knees, you blearily made out your boyfriend’s blurry figure kneeling outside the closet. With your body feeling like it was completely out of your control, sobs once again began to rack your huddled form as you shrunk away from him as far as you could into the corner of the closet.

“I’m gonna come in and sit with you okay, I won’t touch you unless you say I can alright?” You could hear some shuffling before hearing the door creak shut again engulfing the both of you in almost complete darkness, save for the few streams of yellow light coming from the cracks of the door. Corpse stared forward in complete silence, long legs bent uncomfortably and body hunched over in the cramped space of the closet trying to give you as much space as possible but knowing that the first step was sitting with you. The man beside you sighed softly, feeling his heart splinter with every heaving sob that raked over you; he could feel his own tears prick at his eyes and a sob starting to well up in his throat but he held them back. Mustering up the courage and will he finally opened his mouth to speak.

“(Y/N) I am so, so fucking sorry,” his voice pitched just above a whisper because he knew if his voice got any deeper that it would startle you and scare you even more than how you were already feeling right now. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking. It never should’ve hap-“

“Y- You br- broke your promise.” Your reply came in watery, stuttered breaths; the knot in Corpse’s throat came right back up, tears filling his waterline as much as he tried to keep his composure for your sake.

“I know. I know I did.” The man beside you managed to choke out thinking back to the day where he first lost his temper around you. You’d told him everything about your experience with your past relationships and how you were treated, what you used to cope and what he could do to avoid that in any way possible. He promised that day that he would never again raise his voice, or move too fast even when he was angry or frustrated, and made sure to note down anything that would possibly trigger you to completely avoid altogether. And he kept those promises… until today. Tilting his head to glance over at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the closet to see you staring straight ahead, tears pouring endlessly down your damp face as your body still shook with soft cries.

“I can’t lose you (Y/N)” Corpse’s voice shook as he tried to figure out the right things to say that would keep you from walking right out that door.

“I’ll do anything. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I don’t know what I’d do without you. I’ll be better, I swear on my life I’ll be better. Anything you need— it’s yours. I just.. I can’t lose you. Not like this.” He hated how much he sounded like he was pleading when he’s the one who fucked up. The last thing he wanted to do was manipulate you into staying with him which was exactly what your ex did when they made the same mistake time and time again; something he swore he’d never even think of doing. But here he was, and here you were glancing up at him with bloodshot eyes, hair sticking to your tear slicked face and body shaking so much you’d think it was below freezing in there.

Tearing your gaze away from his, you heaved a watery, shaky sigh trying your best to get your thoughts in order. While you had your issues, you knew he had his as well; and with as much patience and understanding he gives you with your snappy, frustrated, sad days, you needed to give back that same patience and understanding with his own. You needed to be brave here.

“Baby-“

“C-Can you just hold me? Please?” You sputtered out just above a whisper, and before you could even unwrap your arms from around yourself Corpse was pulling you into his lap; strong arms encasing you as he pushed his face into your hair. That’s when you found out he was shaking just as much as you were, chest rising and falling erratically with contained sobs as he tried to keep his brave demeanour up for you. Tucking your head under his chin he leaned back against the wall as he crushed you to his chest, the droplets hitting the top of your head giving way to the fact that he was crying too. Pulling your arms up from your side, you slowly wrapped them around his shoulder as he pushed his face against the crook of your neck, sobs finally giving way as he cried helplessly into your shoulder; further dampening the already tear-soaked cloth of the hoodie you were wearing.

“I’m sorry,” Corpse sputtered, hooking his chin over your shoulder so he could keep up with the heaving of his chest, pulling an arm up from around your waist to rest on the back of your head. As much as he wanted to run his hands all over your body and bury his fingers in your hair to feel and memorize every inch of you, he kept them still not wanting to overwhelm you more than this kind of touch already did.

“I love you, I love you so much, I love you..“ he whispered over and over into the darkness of the closet as you both began to breath slower as one. Shushing him softly, you repeated the soft words back to him before wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, ensuring him that you were going to be alright.

There would be bumps in the road but Corpse was worth it.

__________________________________

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse imagine

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beebrainedstudios · 3 years

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Adsom Winter Holiday Headcanons:

Sorry for the formatting, I did this really quickly on my phone.

White London:

The festival season in Makt is all about warmth and the celebration of family ties. In healthier times, the start of the season was a huge deal, as it signified that winter was here and preparations for the coldest months needed to begin. The festival season spans all throughout December and into the early weeks of January; each week has its own theme and specific holiday with its own traditions, such as ice skating and decorating the home. This period is seen as the last chance to form connections before deep winter, a time when such relationships can mean the difference between being comfortable and struggling to survive: as such, people often celebrate the holidays with friends and family. In some cases, households that have difficulty on their own will join together for the winter to act as one larger family unit; the holidays are when most groups choose to start the process, as the festive mood tends to make the merging easier. Gift-giving is common, with a lot of said gifts being food or sweets- particularly common is candy made by pouring molasses-like syrup in patterns onto clean snow; when it cools, a tasty sugary picture has been formed. Decorating with coniferous trees is also commonplace; all manner of cones, limbs, and pine scents add to the generally warm atmosphere the season gives off. If a family is religious, they will typically celebrate some personal holiday at this time, but this varies tremendously. Community events often happen over this period, such as sled races or sleigh rides. As a rule, anything that uses the abundant snow is fair game; it’s not uncommon for a huge snowball fight to break out. Unfortunately, most of these traditions died out as White London slowly got worse, but the memory of the holidays is still firmly rooted in Maktahn culture, and due to Holland’s short reign and his death, the festival season has started making a comeback- a huge step towards Makt’s recovery.

Red London:

Due to the Red world’s unusually warm climate, an Arnesian winter actually shares a lot in common with a Grey world autumn. All of the deciduous plants still die off as normal and it gets cold enough for frosty breath, but truly cold-weather things such as snow or thick ice are usually a thing of the past or confined to a single week of the year. However, Arnes still remembers its pre-Split climate, and a lot of their holiday season is spent trying to bring back the wintry feeling along with their standard celebrations. Red London’s holidays are much more closely condensed than White London’s; their various holidays are only celebrated for the final two weeks of the year. Arnes’ lack of a concrete religion has led to a diversity of specific traditions, but most beliefs are adapted to suit the kingdom-wide festivities, which are designed to fit all religious needs. The main theme is cheer and celebration of identity, both of country and of self. The season starts off with massive parades and city-wide parties as the kingdom celebrates what makes Arnes, well, Arnes. As the holidays progress, things become much more self-centered; three days before the first day of the new year in particular. On this day, the day of Anos An, people are encouraged to exaggerate positive personal traits and become much more intense versions of themselves- a playful person may become a merry trickster, or an introvert may seek out another introvert to spend the day quietly basking in each other’s presence. This day is meant to be about one and their knowledge of oneself, spent in self-reflection through action. Anos An is meant to help others learn about those they care about, and traditionally people are required to be cordial and kind (within reason of course, not every personality will mesh well); after all, everyone is just being themself. Magic use is also widespread during this holiday as the ultimate expression of self- many kids go through their element tests on this day as a matter of course. It’s a strange holiday that can easily get out of hand, but the Arnesians have it well-versed by now.

Another huge part of Red London’s holiday season is music and sound. As soon as the fortnight starts, bright silver bells are hung on every lamppost, doorway, and windowsill. Ringing these bells as one passes them is seen as a sign of future happiness and a merry soul, and their sound is said to be pleasing to magic itself. Huge groups of people gather by the Isle each night, caroling while others freeze the river with magic and skate on it. Any musical group plays as often as possible to help add to the noise. Of course, some people have problems handling the overwhelming din- those that do are often gifted with stylish enchanted earmuffs colored silver, which act both as a noise-buffer and a public signal that they are easily overstimulated/bothered by sound and should be treated as such. Food is less of a focus than it is in White, but nonetheless certain dishes are customary; cranberry cakes, snowflake cookies dusted with red and silver sugar, and candied pomegranates are all common favorites. All festivities culminate in a massive New Years celebration; everyone retreats to their homes (or the palace, if they’re invited) to quietly wait for the sun; when it rises on the new year, the city bursts to life, with everyone’s magic swelling at once, music filling the air, and dancing in the streets. It’s seen as a fresh start for everyone to grow together, making it one of the most important holidays of the year.

Black London:

Very little is known about Black London’s holiday season, but the general consensus is that it was much calmer and relaxed than the other world’s festivities, as most Black London holidays were celebrated during the summer when the expansive coastline of their river could be fully enjoyed. What little celebration that did occur during this season was often centered around peace. A world in constant transformation can easily be overwhelming- winter in Black London was meant to be a time of rest and refocusing on one’s life and magic. This holiday season was largely celebrated at home or with one’s close friends and family as everyone relaxed and lets themselves breath. Toning down magic at this time was also encouraged to give the world a break. Beyond this, little is known, as almost all specifics of this history have been lost to time and to Black London’s fall.

Character Specific:

Kell, Rhy, and Holland are all huge holiday people, while Alucard and Lila are not (they get into it later).

During the holiday season, most of the Maresh princes’ low moods disappear. Both Rhy and Kell fling themselves into the holidays with all the force of two desperate idiots looking for happiness, and happiness they get. Rhy both as king and as prince is often busy helping to set up the holidays themselves, organizing the musicians and the decoration of the palace. However, as soon as he can slip away he is out into the city to sing and dance with everyone else. Rhy may partake in all of the royals’ festivities, but it’s the nighttime celebration in the streets he enjoys most of all. He loves it best by the river; he’ll often carol for several nights in a row until Kell finally gets annoyed with the monotony and pushes him onto the ice at the river. Rhy then spends the rest of the night skating while Kell laughs and watches on. As is tradition for the royals, Rhy also tends to change his usual attire during the holidays, swapping his gold for silver and wearing a plush red cloak to help keep him warm during the festivities. Anos An Rhy is remarkably similar to normal Rhy; he just uses a much more extensive vocabulary and tends to stick close to Kell (half a matter of self-protection considering of his brother’s choice of self-celebration). Rhy naturally has a lot of things he could choose to embrace about himself, and he chooses accomplishments- such as language and brotherhood- that he is most proud of. Post-ACOL, Rhy continues many of these personal traditions with Alucard, trying to warm him up to the holiday.

Kell enjoys two things he doesn’t anytime else during the holiday; parties and noise. Every time the holidays come around Kell changes into a vibrant, excitable version of himself because he just loves the season so frickin much, much to the surprise of those who don’t know about it. He switches his royal red coat out for a long silver fur-lined one that’s covered with fake frost and he hits the town, ringing every bell he comes across. For once he’s happy to join the other royals in parades and winter balls, gliding through the crowd like a winter breeze. He even takes the time to grow his hair out a bit so he can braid it with quartz crystals (a tradition all royals partake in to help liven up their crowns); he may not always feel like a royal, but the holidays are a time meant for family and he spends them with the makeshift one he’s got. Kell also takes on an almost Santa-like role around the city; by this time of year his little room is often in desperate need of cleaning out, so he’ll leave little trinkets hidden around doors, walls, or the palace for people to find. People have figured it out by now and make a game of finding the Black-Eyed Prince’s gifts, which delights Kell in kind. During Anos An, Kell chooses to shed his dour demeanor in favor of accentuating his cunning, stealth, magic, and playful side; in short, he becomes a prankster. Anyone within his immediate vicinity needs to watch their pockets- their coins in particular- and keep an eye on the Antari lurking at the edge of their vision. If Kell isn’t in a thieving mood he settles for plain old mischief, such as letting the king slip on ice into a snowbank or sprinkling salt on desserts (he always leaves some untouched- he’s not a monster). All of the pranks/petty theft is in good fun; anything taken is returned at the end of the night with extra coins or trinkets from Kell’s end, and anyone he truly embarrassed receives more than a few apologies. This day is simply Kell’s reminder to himself that he’s allowed to enjoy himself, and if he can make others laugh while doing so than that’s even better.

Rhy and Kell often take the time to hang out during the holidays, and they make a goal to wander through the Night Market together at least once in their half-hearted disguises so they can get gifts for one another (including some the other is unaware of).

White London has not been kind to Holland, but even in its darkest hours Holland wanted to be kind to everyone else. Everyone knew how the holidays were supposed to go even if no one celebrated them, so when Holland was young he’d stash up enough food to cook little treats for everyone nearby, leaving them on their doorsteps while knowing full well he was putting himself at risk. Fortunately, no one responded with violence- at least not that he knew of- and he kept up his little gifting spree until Alox died. He also spent the winters of his youth tucked up next to his brother, listening to him tell stories of the Someday King. As everyone knows, these holidays didn’t last long; they reignited briefly with Talya and again with Vortalis, but eventually the coldness of the world got to Holland too and he gave up. When he could manage during the Danes’ reign, he’d try to find something to brighten the end of the staff’s year with (those that had kept their heads, anyway), but it always was a tricky business considering anything closely resembling joy was at risk of being snapped up by the Danes. Holland didn’t have a winter during his reign to celebrate the holidays in, but if he had been given the chance he would have encouraged all of Makt to participate. Needless to say, they didn’t need the encouragement and wholeheartedly threw themselves into it after he was gone and the world awoke.

As mentioned above, both Alucard and Lila are not huge holiday people as difficult circumstances ruined both of their enjoyment of their respective world’s holidays. Lila never saw the benefit of a holiday for a religion she didn’t practice that she couldn’t afford to participate in; it only made her angry to see well-off people wasting money on gifts for each other that she was sure were meant to be status symbols. Even though Barron tried endlessly to get her to spend the winter holidays with him, he never succeeded, and it was only after his death that Lila realized what she had been missing. Naturally, once she’s in a better place she has a easier time enjoying the Arnesian holidays, even as she sees how much Alucard himself struggles to do the same. The fact that Kell’s joy is exponentially increased during the season doesn’t hurt either, and on her first Arnesian New Year, when Kell sweeps her into the street for a dance to greet the sun, she has to concede that she doesn’t want to miss the holidays ever again (she enjoyed Anos An too; it involved a lot of fire and problem mitigation on Kell’s end).

Alucard’s main problem with the holidays comes from the fact that his family life sucked. Even before he was outed to his family, nobody really liked each other, and that made it very difficult to muster any cheer or general goodwill. The Emerys’ would participate in anything the crown needed them to as part of the ruling elite, but that was where the happiness stopped. Alucard could sometimes manage to gift Anisa something, but it always ended up an ordeal when everyone else complained about it. Once the two are reunited Rhy makes it his mission to get Alucard to enjoy the holidays again, and to the pirate’s credit it doesn’t take much. Though he never really gets over his dislike of large holiday dinners (too easy to get into fights), he does start to warm up to other things that Rhy suggests, such as carriage rides and sharing drinks with friends. His crew is roped into it by the prince to help give Alucard a better family to celebrate with- the guards may be confused about the pirates running amok in the palace, but one look at the excited kings’ faces is enough to get them to stand down. Even Kell, with the necessary help of the holiday mood, manages to have some fun with Alucard, taking his hat on Anos An to return it filled with jewelry, low-value coins, and a note that reminds him who managed to take it (in Alucard’s defense, he was busy performing magic tricks for Rhy and the palace guests, showing off his skill and talent as something he valued highly).

#well this was fun #and a great opportunity to let the cast have some fun #fantasy holidays are great #anyways #adsom #acol #agos #a darker shade of magic #a conjuring of light #a gathering of shadows #shades of magic #adsom headcanons #ve schwab #kell maresh #lila bard #holland vosijk #rhy maresh #alucard emery

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battleshell · 4 years

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THE POSITIVE & NEGATIVE; Mun & Muse - Meme.

fill out & repost ♥ This meme definitely favors canons more, but I hope OC’s still can make it somehow work with their own lore, and lil’ fandom of friends & mutuals. Multi-Muses pick the muse you are the most invested in atm. tagged by: @dansiere whom im care tagging: extremely informative meme for ppl who have lots of cross-over interactions, i encourage u to steal it from me anyway BUT @sternenteile @twelvians @stellamris @grandtales

My muse is: canon / oc / au / canon-divergent / fandomless / complicated

Is your character popular in the fandom? YES / NO. [ he is a very, very minor NPC that i’ve essentially wrested from the game with my grubby hands; Gerson is a merchant NPC found in Waterfall, the third area of the game focused with water themes. he has less than 100 lines of dialogue (but jam-packed full of info) and doesn’t even have an overworld sprite. although noted to have a history with multiple major characters, it’s not often i’ve seen him be the main focus of any fanfics or art pieces. ]

Is your character considered hot™ in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. [ put that faaaaaaaar away from me please tyty ]

Is your character considered strong in the fandom? YES / NO / IDK. [ i personally believe that Gerson is a strong and potentially powerful monster with fighting capability that could rival some of the stronger Monsters in the Underground due to his background as a fighter during the Human-Monster War, but since has waned in both reputation and fighting skill. we never fight him in game and as such, will never see how he compares numerically, but it’s clear from his dialogue that he knows how to fight professionally/cleverly and would have given a hard challenge. ]

Are they underrated? YES / NO / IDK. [ i mentioned before that Gerson has ties with lots of major characters - I hardly see it being put into action or talked about! i also have a soft spot for elder/older characters in general since they seem to be overlooked in favor for younger characters that carry the action of plots - which I understand and totally get, but I still like to put these characters out there for the sake of it ]

Were they relevant for the main story? YES / NO.

Were they relevant for the main character? YES / NO / THEY’RE THE PROTAG. [ he was a funny merchant dude that said “wahaha” a whole bunch of times and carried a magnifying glass; sure he and Frisk would have been good friends after the golden ending but most people have forgotten about their interaction with Gerson once out of Waterfall ]

Are they widely known in their world? YES / NO. [ as one of the older if not oldest Monsters in the Underground, or from his reputation as the “Hammer of Justice” from wartime. he is also a historian and is noted to have written a few of the books in the Librarby. definitely known in the Underground, but probably only in that community ]

How’s their reputation? GOOD / BAD / NEUTRAL. [ as mentioned before, a benefactor to the community and maybe even a sagely figure. a source of wisdom (even if cheeky) and a person of stability ]

How strictly do you follow canon? — ehhhhhhhhhh both extremely canon compliant and then hands off the wheel, let jesus drive me away~ i only have so much canon material to work with so i have milked as much as offered to me, then went off to forge my own path in order to patch up the missing holes then add a few sprinkles. the base of the character is all there, but if you really want to get invested with him (or me) then we have a lot to walk through.

SELL YOUR MUSE! Aka try to list everything, which makes your muse interesting in your opinion to make them spicy for your mutuals. — old tortoise (NOT TURTLE) guy sells knick-knacks and cracks jokes, knows everyone’s dirty secrets but thinks they’re just funny to think about them than use them. an elder in the community who has stories to tell and lessons to teach, who has lived through half of recorded history and now spends his time just trying to make things around him interesting. a war veteran who protects his community and understands the horror of the world, but keeps eyes looking into the future even in the face of grimness itself. plays the accordion and harmonica, could probably square dance if he knew what that was. will call you kiddo.

Now the OPPOSITE, list everything why your muse could not be so interesting (even if you may not agree, what does the fandom perhaps think?). — little to no motivation to find a passion for himself that would benefit or service just himself; his entire sense of worth comes from servicing others in some way (being a soldier and protecting people; recording history in order to teach future generations; maintaining a shop in order to literally service others) and lack of action due to decrepitude in old age. close-minded compared to other Monsters, as he doesn’t actually take to think of humans or outsiders kindly; judgmental to the point of being racist. proud and dislikes being one-upped that it could lead to pettiness, and despite his positive outlooks, very pessimistic worldview.

What inspired you to rp your muse? — funfact: Gerson is my first tumblr RP muse ever, and since i was worried about duplicate anxiety when i first started i specifically wrote him since he was a smaller character with less attention - i’ve since learned i have no anxiety about it so it’s no longer a problem, but what keeps me going today is the challenge of writing someone so different from me. the elder aesthetic along with homely, almost cottagecore kind of vibe is also appealing, and the humor that comes with gerson is a joy to write out.

What keeps your inspiration going? — reading literature, music, artwork, pinterest, replaying the game, and doing little hobbies that would embody the character (collecting or sewing, for example) are things i can do by myself, but with other people i have the most drive when i can have friendly and nonpersonal arguments/debates about character motives or about source material like what made a character act like this or that, or about really anything as long as it makes me seriously think about characters critically and force me to recognize flaws.

Some more personal questions for the mun.

Give your mutuals some insight about the way you are in some matters, which could lead them to get more comfortable with you or perhaps not.

Do you think you give your character justice? YES / NO / I SINCERELY HOPE I DO? [ unfortunately i’m not a tortoise monster who lived for probably centuries if not decades older than myself, but i enjoy writing older characters and hope that other ppl see the potential gerson has like i do ]

Do you frequently write headcanons? YES / NO / SORT OF? [ you know when you have a concept and in your own mind you can see it clearly, without fuzziness or confusion, but you can’t seem to put it clearly into words without it turning into an essay because you need to connect all the other points that’s in the single concept you envisioned? yea. ]

Do you sometimes write drabbles? YES / NO [ bro i should.. ]

Do you think a lot about your Muse during the day? YES / NO [ hmu if you got pinterest and i’ll give u tons and tons of boards ]

Are you confident in your portrayal? YES / NO / SORT OF? [ this is unfair to answer as (AFAIK) i am the only person writing Gerson in... any capacity. despite that i like to think i bring out the humorous side of him, and show ppl that he and other NPCs are tons of potentials and shouldn’t be overlooked because they aren’t popular ]

Are you confident in your writing? YES / NO. [ i always believed my style and my skill in not only PSDs or aesthetics, but analysis or understanding was always a bit plain, without much flourish or complexity. while that is appealing on its own and has its own merits, i can’t help but feel i can always push myself to do a little more, add a little flavor, or paint an image that could only be done in writing. although i am doing enough to get the job done, i’m searching for a certain voice of writing that i like and want to integrate into creative writing in order to make it more personalized and more engaging. ]

Are you a sensitive person? YES / NO. / SORTA. [ i despise pussyfooting and will often tell ppl straight up if i have a problem with them or something about them; straightforwardness, honesty, and integrity are some of my core values and that includes being harsh if it comes to it in order to keep order ]

Do you accept criticism well about your portrayal? — assuming it’s rooted in goodwill or from a point of analysis, absolutely! it’s one of the direct sources for growth and getting better at any craft, but as Tumblr loves to be.... jumpy, i’m always cautious when its not from someone i know.

Do you like questions, which help you explore your character? — YEA BUDDYYYYY

If someone disagrees to a headcanon of yours, do you want to know why? — absolutely, i thrive off friendly discourse as i mentioned.

If someone disagrees with your portrayal, how would you take it? — if we don’t discuss it as above, in lit any other case i’d say “well there are other blogs to follow” but since i’m like 99% sure i’m the only gerson blog that isn’t applicable lmao; the point still stands that everyone has the freedom to write a character as they wish. there are valid reasons to dislike a portayal but not a lot of valid reasons to attack someone for it - with the exception of ppl being gross. stop that, nasty.

If someone really hates your character, how do you take it? — strangely. it’s not my job to make people like a character, you either like them or not. if you dislike them for unreasonable points then, to leave in the previous response, “clowns will be clowns, no matter what you do. I just don’t get why you would follow someone if you hate their character to begin with.”

Are you okay with people pointing out your grammatical errors? — of course, as long as it’s polite and all that jazz!

Do you think you are easy going as a mun? — depends on the meaning - i like making new friends and i find it easy to talk to new people, be it about roleplay or other things like organizing video game play sessions. however, i also have on multiple occasions have approached ppl privately saying “this is annoying/this is problematic/this is inappropriate, stop” and been met with general disdain for voicing such so Who Knows..... (tm). at least on a private level. here, publicly, i’m pretty relaxed! memes and jokes are abound. as long as a person can be mature and responsible for their actions we can vibe, yo.

#definitely plan to link this in rules or something #as a guide for newcomers #what a nice meme!#* verbatim ⟐ meme.

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oracleffxiv · 5 years

Text

A Fateful Feast (Short Story)

In which a homeless vagrant saves the life of a mysterious woman, and is granted a second chance at life.

Written by the player of Kokoro Ijiri! Only posted by me!

Grey clouds hung high over the affluent city of Kugane, the late-morning breeze carried with it a biting winter chill. The sounds of the Kogane Dori above her echoing through the air, the thrum of the lively crowds and the overeager merchants hawking their wares. There was a time long ago where she too would cry out as those merchants did now, fresh-faced and new to the city as she was. A brief pursuit from the Sekiseigumi, calling for the head of a vagrant con-woman had taught her she was better off keeping a low profile. She did not want to become a victim of the locals distrust of outsiders, as had happened to many an ijin merchant overeager to disrupt the peace to sell their wares. All she wished was to help them, to do here what she could not in her frigid home. If only they would understand, if only they would properly judge her salves and mixtures by their own merit, rather than that of the one selling them.. Kokoro felt her eyes flutter open, her gaunt face instinctively looking up, reasonably expecting to find the sky above her, only to be met with a dark wooden ceiling. A few moments passed before she was able to recall where she was. She had nestled herself below the wooden walkway connecting Kogane Dori to the Ofunakura the night prior. The shipwrights paid her little mind as they went about their business as long as she kept well out of the way, huddled against the rigid stone wall the Kogane Dori rested atop, the occasional pair of feet headed for the bridge to Pier #1. The dull ache of her belly was enough to slowly rouse her to her senses, the sun had risen and set many times between her last meal and now, her body had grown thin and frail in that time which only added to the disheveled appearance that her vagrancy afforded her. The winters cold had been unkind to her in this fragile state, even now she nursed a cough, her body too weak to fight off disease without sustenance. With a pained expression she looked anxiously to the small bundle of personal belongings she kept with her. Even if she were willing to sell any of what little she had left to purchase food, doubtless none would buy from her, as had always been the case. In times past she could rely upon the sea for sustenance, crudely fishing for the anchovies which periodically made their way close to shore, but in her current state she dared not brave the waters for fear of exacerbating her condition. It was as she pondered this she noticed a figure crossing the bridge from Pier #1, her thoughts quickly forgotten as she shrinks back into the shadows, doing her best to conceal her presence. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself. It was only as she turned to get a proper look at the approaching figure that she recognised them. A Raen much like herself though of shorter stature, golden-haired with strands of white, tied and tamed neatly at the back yet allowed an almost wild and messy reign at the front obscuring the right side of her face. Stranger still was the dark blue garb she clad herself in, that long and foreign coat of leather that looked like nothing else Kokoro had ever seen. A woman of many apparent contradictions, both groomed and bedraggled, of eastern blood and yet wrapped in these alien garments. The woman had a certain intensity to her, one could tell merely by looking upon her that she was driven and direct in her nature, not one to smell the blooming flowers she passes. If it wasn't productive to whatever end she was working towards she would not waste a stray thought upon it, that was the initial impression Kokoro had held of this woman upon first seeing her. And yet as if to contradict that very notion, when this same woman had passed her by in the past she had repeatedly found a small pile of koban dropped at her feet, always the precise same amount, always enough to buy a bowl of udon for one. What Kokoro had imagined a mistake on the womans part on first occurrence soon became a ritual for whenever the woman would pass her by. Never a word had been exchanged between the pair, the woman had never even so much as looked at Kokoro for all she knew, but always that same kind gesture, so seemingly out of character for the womans appearance. She knew not what compelled the woman to such charity, though she thought better than to look this gift horse in the mouth. Something seemed off about the woman on this day however. The usual intensity and single-minded focus that so often possessed her was absent and in its place a pensive and indecisive mien took hold over her. It was enough to take Kokoro aback somewhat, though she dared not raise a voice in concern, lest she instead draw the womans ire. Moments later as the womans footfalls inevitably take her past Kokoro, without so much as a glance or word in her direction another set of coins finds itself landing squarely at her feet. Kokoro watched as the woman simply trudged on, only coming to a standstill as she reaches the stone rails far to Kokoro's right, bordering the city's central canal. There she simply leans forwards, resting her arms atop the rail whilst she seems to stare across the Tasogare Bridge to the other side of the city. Perhaps it was too much of her to hope for something more than this simple courtesy she had been afforded before, a gracious word or two in passing perhaps. The last time she had seen this enigmatic woman had been near a moon prior in the dead of night, a string of fires ravaged some few buildings in the distant northern districts of the city. The populace was in uproar, crowds gradually travelling towards the blaze that they might bear witness to the tragedy taking place, leaving few souls idling about the city's southern reaches where she had been. In the dark moonlit night she had spied a silhouette in the distance struggling to walk, clearly in pain, only to discover the injured visage of this very same woman, teeth grit in agony, her body plastered in burns. Had it been anyone else Kokoro might have left them be out of fear for their wrath, but she dared not let this woman whom had showed her such kindness in the past suffer as she clearly was. The unguent she had used that night had been one of the first mixtures she'd ever created. One of her first successes, something she was proud of, even if in the frigid confines of her home village, burns were seldom ever a practical concern for the inhabitants.The woman protested against Kokoro's aid ardently at first, though Kokoro's insistence at attending her soon wore away at that resolve as surely as the searing pain of her wounds. Admittedly with Kokoro's limited resources, and unfortunate lack of proper equipment and adequate facilities, there were practical limits to what she could do beyond merely applying the unguent to the womans affected flesh, even having to resort to tearing strips from her ragged attire and the womans own undershirt to serve as makeshift bandages. Kokoro made now to pick up the coins intentionally dropped at her feet as she stood, her eyes still regarding the woman from afar. She had worried all this time that she had not done enough to save this enigmatic stranger. Perhaps the woman had succumbed to her gruesome injuries after venturing home from Kokoro's impromptu treatment? Perhaps her treatment had even worsened things for the woman?

Full glad she was to see the woman alive and well after all. Turning up the nearby flight of stairs, her gaze broke, focusing her eyes ahead of her now as she briefly ascended to the Kogane Dori's level, carefully keeping her distance from others at the edge of the marketplace as she made to cross the main bridge across to the Tenkonto Plaza. She stuck close to the edge western edge of the mighty bridge, keeping clear of the masses flooding through the centre, her hand running along the wooden bannister of the bridge, She misliked having to use such open routes but her hunger demanded she didn't waste more time than necessary, and there was no swifter way to the Rakuza's markets than this, quietly she dipped her head in desperate prayer, begging whatever kami would listen not to let her be notic- “Where are you going? “

The words frightened her some, uttered in an agitated tone as they pierced through the continuous hum of the churning crowds surrounding her, but what set panic in her heart was the fierce hand that had grasped her shoulder, turning on the spot, fear writ across her face only to instead find the enigmatic woman herself, her bright amber gaze peering into her own eyes as the woman scowled at her. “Where are you going? “ the woman repeated sternly with a growl, her patience wearing thin. “O-Old Man Hanamura's stall.. in the Rakuza..“ Kokoro stammered in answer, paralyzed in fear at the confrontation. The womans eyebrows raise, visibly balking at Kokoro's answer, as if the words were an insult she'd taken to heart. “You're... You're spending my money there? “ she growls.“ Have you been squandering it all on that overpriced shlock?! “ she asks, her tone raised high enough to attract a glance from some few bystanders. Kokoro's only recourse is a brief nod, her head hung low in abject apology, it was all she could do. Despite how unreasonable the womans outburst was, she dared not do anything to escalate the petty conflict further. “Kami take me... had I known that's where you were going I'd have tossed my koban in the sea instead!“ the woman curses, gritting her teeth as she looks down to the floor in mild contempt, a weary, perturbed sigh escaping her lips, before looking up to Kokoro, the womans gaze defying her to respond. Kokoro can only answer in uncomfortable silence however, afraid that anything she might offer in recourse would only deteriorate the situation further, leaning forward as best she can to bow in apology once more, daring not bend too far forwards for fear she might fall in her weakened condition. At Kokoro's prolonged silence the frustrated woman merely shakes her head, reaching forwards to grasp for Kokoro's wrist, rather forcefully dragging her back across the bridge from whence she had came. “ Come on! You're not spending a single koban more on what that man has the audacity to pass off as food! “ she vehemently insists, pulling Kokoro along like a mother might a child. Kokoro for her part did not resist, far too weak and petrified with fear to risk defying the woman at this point. Some few heads turned beholding the well-dressed woman drag the unkempt Kokoro through the Kogane Dori markets until they reached a quiet side-alley off of the main street, approaching the end of the dingy alley they arrived at the outside of an unassuming building. A small sign hung from above the sliding door entrance, but if anything was scribed upon it at all, the sign itself was old enough as to be illegible. As the woman led Kokoro inside her eyes gazed about the interior of what was revealed to be a tiny restaurant. At most Kokoro reasoned the establishment might squeeze fifteen patrons inside at once at a very intimate closeness. The woman had soon sat Kokoro down at the bar, looking expectantly to her, to which Kokoro immediately placed the coins the woman had earlier dropped at her feet atop the counter. The grizzled man behind the counter simply looked down upon the amount set down and wordlessly from there seemed to get to work without any further questioning. The tense silence as the proprieter methodically began to prepare a meal was deafening. Kokoro endeavoured to look about the modest restaurant to distract herself to little avail, she and the woman accompanying her were the only patrons in and little save for the age and size of the building seemed worth commenting on. Hesitantly Kokoro turns towards the woman to ask: “Y-Your wounds... how... how are..- “ she begins only to be cut off mid-sentence. “-I'm fine.” the woman answers bluntly, her tone sharp, clearly not wishing to speak more upon it as her teeth gritted in visible agitation behind her closed lips. Kokoro knew better than to pursue the conversation further than that, sitting meekly in helpless silence until she was carefully presented with a wooden bowl from the barkeep, filled with a surprisingly decorated serving of ramen adorned with pork slices and leeks. Kokoro looked up to the enigmatic woman who in return only shot an impatient glare back in her direction, that being all the encouragement she needed she quickly dug in, the well-worn pair of chopsticks provided to her hastily taken up that she might slurp the ramen up with reckless abandon, the joyous sounds of her eating quickly filling the small restaurant as the only patron there save for the woman who had ushered her here, only paused that she might take up a slice or pork or leek to bring either to her mouth to eat, deep enthusiastic hums of enjoyment escaping her cracked lips all the while. There was clearly no comparison to what she had eaten before on the womans charity, the pleasant flavour of the savory broth and the supplementary toppings compared to the stall she was accustomed to were as a bright summer midday compared to the winters night of her previous helpings. “Is it good? “ the woman asks wearily, her tone dispassionate and aloof, seeming to ask more out of obligation than any genuine interest in Kokoro's opinion as she merely watches her eat. “Yes... It's good! It's very... very good! “ Kokoro manages in-between mouthfuls, her eager voice muffled by the food inside of it, her hunger was all-consuming, starvation dictated she places the food in front of her to greater importance than maintaining etiquette. The woman seemed unfazed by this show of crude manners however, merely nodding to the man behind the counter and placing another set of coins down atop it, another bowl promptly being served to Kokoro as she completes the first, naturally prompting another anxious look of confirmation from Kokoro and an affirming nod from the woman before she continues to eat ravenously from this second bowl. After two more bowls lay empty on the counter in much the same fashion Kokoro lets out a relieved, blissful sigh. She had not eaten so well in a very long time, she had forgotten what it felt like to have a full stomach. “Four already? Kami... if you always eat like this, there'll never be enough food left for me. “ the woman mutters quietly, her tone alike to if she were regretting having taken on a risky financial loan. At this Kokoro's blood freezes in her veins, having forgotten herself in the depths of her desperate hunger which she had assumed the woman was only too happy to indulge. In haste she turned her head, mouth opening to mutter out as many apologies as her racing mind could think of, though she's soon stopped in her tracks by the womans next words. “Honestly it would be helpful if you could limit yourself to just a meal or two a day, easy and predictable and far less trouble than having to buy you this much all the time. “ the woman elaborates, her eyes narrowing slowly as she stares Kokoro down like a snake eying a nest of bird eggs. “W-What..? “ Kokoro stammers, her shoulders shrinking down as she's disarmed by the womans statement. “ What do you mean?“ she asks aloud in a puzzled tone, entirely perplexed by the womans words. The woman closes her eyes for a moment, exhaling through her nostrils before speaking. “ My name is Rikyo Takahashi, of Oracle Investigations, a private investigation firm established by myself. I want to offer you employment. “ Kokoro can barely blink in recourse, her eyes widening, scarcely believing what she was hearing. “ Employment? But I'm not...- “ she begins before Rikyo's hand rises to cut her off, shaking her head. “No, not like that. I want to employ you as my personal doctor. “ Rikyo states openly, reaching a deft hand up to adjust her polished glasses before continuing.“ In exchange for food and board, you will keep me alive. You will make yourself available to treat my wounds at any and every hour of every day in my employment. “ Blinking once more in disbelief at the unusual proposal, Kokoro hesitantly shakes her head, her hands rising up timidly. “But I can't... I'm not... I'm just... -“ she begins to timidly stammer, overwhelmed by the unique opportunity impressed upon her, her protestations however are soon interrupted once more by Rikyo's interjection. “- Perfect for the job? “ Rikyo offers with a dull roll of her eyes, folding her arms now as she continues looking down upon Kokoro. “ You're in desperate need of food and shelter, and reluctantly I'll admit I'm in desperate need of someone who can put me back together. You have nowhere, and I have somewhere you can live sustainably, with food you can eat. Somewhere convenient and easy for me to access at any hour of the day or night I may need sufficient treatment... and you saved my life without any professional tools, and without any necessary incentive of compensation. You could easily have robbed me, but instead you were resourceful and treated my extensive wounds competently with limited resources, which assuredly makes you more qualified and trustworthy than most doctors in this city. “ Kokoro had no answer to any of that. Rikyo had spoken blunt sense to her, while she couldn't agree on her own merits being in any way as valuable as the detective seemed to think, the undeniable truth was that she did need help, and here it was being offered to her on an angels' wings. Even so she dreadfully worried, what if she wasn't good enough? What if this woman, whom had placed this faith in her, died on her watch? What if she couldn't do enough to protect her? These questions raced about in her mind, a disparaging sigh leaving her lips as she struggles to consider all of these possibilities. Seeing Kokoro's indecision come to the surface Rikyo lets out a disappointed tut, peering warily out the open sliding door to the restuarant before turning back to Kokoro. As she takes a step forward, she reaches into her sleek coat, pulling out a small poster, jerking her hand to unfurl it in a dramatic fashion, holding it up in front of Kokoro's head, prompting the other Raen to look up towards it. “I should have been somewhere else before we came here. I'll be at this address by sunset. If you're interested, be there.“ she announces somewhat curtly, lowering the pamphlet atop the counter before turning on her heel and trudging out of the small restaurant without so much as a 'goodbye'. Thus was Kokoro left there, having started the day with a calm mind and an aching belly, she now found herself with a calm belly and an aching mind. Retreating back to the spot she had begun the day, walking soberly along the lower path outside of the Ofunakura until she reached the edge, the same set of stony rails she had spotted Rikyo brooding at earlier, peering down into the blue waters beneath her, wistfully watching them foam as they ran up against the stone walls of the city canal, before looking up to the Bokairo across the bridge from her, where the detective would wait for her. The hour grew late as she carefully gathered what things she had left on her, her footfalls heavy on the dull stone paved path beneath her, across the Tenkonto Plaza and through the Rakuza's markets before finding herself in front of the Bokairo. Keeping a low profile as she endeavoured not to disturb the Inn's guests as she ventured cautiously towards the room indicated upon the promotional pamphlet. This was her chance, she reasoned. The opportunity she had waited for... the opportunity she would never get again if she did not take it now. She couldn't just walk away, she couldn't just leave this private detective be. If Rikyo died because she had not taken up the call to action, that would be worse than failing her at her side, wouldn't it? Surely after all of this time she was capable of protecting at least one person, of saving one person, wasn't she? She asked these uncomfortable questions to herself time and time again as she journeyed here, and now she stood awkwardly before the precipice, eyeing the room number to make sure she was at the right place. And with a deep breath, she raised her nervous hand to knock.

#Rikyo Takahashi #Kokoro Ijiri #( law and order )#Seriously folks it's good stuff #give it a read!#It's long but worth it

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dre--scape · 6 years

Text

Slow Down (Stephen Strange x Wife!Reader)

So i’m finally done. AND ITS MY FIRST REQUEST!!!! I’M SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG BUT I DID IT AND I DID MY BEST AT EDITING AND I HOPE YOU ENJOY. i also wanna apologize for the terrible title and if it may seem rushed, everything played out in my head perfectly, but once I got to writing, it was all there, but it didn’t want to go d o w n . i also wanted to include billy but icouldntimsosorry

Pairing: Stephen Strange x fem!reader

Word count: 1781

Request by @mrs-walka-blog: Hii Can i request a Stephen x wife!reader ANGST where they are having a heated argument in the car (reader accusing him of cheating with christine) and then the car crash happens. It would be before he got his powers obviously.

Summary: ^^^

I also accept requests!

Warnings: ANGST, Major Character death, descriptive car crash, moderate swearing (3 B---- words)

Your gaze watched the rain race off of the Lamborghini’s windshield and the wipers that pushed them off faster as Stephen drove quickly along the mountainside. The anxious feeling in your stomach made your nausea worse as your husband weaved through the two lanes. But you were certain that your mind was faster.

Stephen had been spending too much time at the hospital lately and you were beginning to wonder if he would come home at all. Of course you knew that being married to a neurosurgeon, you wouldn’t see your significant other for hours at a time (You felt terrible for silently thanking the Libby Zion Act). But the fact that he would be around a past lover most of the time had you slightly on edge.

You felt bad for thinking about it too because Christine was a dear friend of yours and you knew she was extremely kind, that she would never have those intentions. So why was it only now that your mind decided to berate you?

Who would want to be married to a lawyer for Christ’s sake? Oh God, what if he’s cheating on me with Christine? He probably is. He’s around her almost 24/7, so I wouldn’t be surprised. She definitely looks like Regina George. Only so much nicer. But if I had to give a rough estimate, he’d probably leave me in two-

“Darling, you really think that low of me?” Stephen asked through a strained chuckle. He wasn’t hurt by the fact that you thought he would actually leave you. No. He was furious at the fact that you thought he was one of those low-life people who’d do it behind your back.

He hesitantly looked over at your face which was mixed with confusion and embarrassment. “You mumble when you think, Love.” You were too flustered by your vocal thoughts to notice the spite in Stephen’s voice.

“I-I do?” You questioned timidly, carefully looking up at your husband.

Stephen nodded slightly, “Yeah.”

You couldn’t help but quietly ask, “Are you really with Christine though?”

An uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you and you leaned your head against the cool window. Placing a finger against your lips, your mind started to race again.

A couple of minutes passed before Stephen spoke up again. “Do you really think I would cheat on you?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice. That drew your attention back to the man at the wheel and you shook your head. “No, I don’t.” You mumbled, hands fidgeting out of nervous habit. “I-I just-”

“Thought I was a low life asshole who moves on from woman to the next?” Your eyes narrowed and you gazed at Stephen, wishing looks could actually injure someone. You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “It was just a simple question, Stephen.” Your brain finally registered how fast Stephen was driving when you glanced at the speedometer. “Now slow down.”

You saw him roll his eyes before placing them back on the road. “And it was a good question because?” Your mind immediately started piling up with evidence against him, but you knew they were all petty accusations. “You’re around her almost all week and when you come home, it’s always: Christine this and Christine that!” You huffed, cheeks turning slightly red.

“Am I not allowed to have any female friends?” The question lingered in the air along with his booming voice. You took a deep breath, calming yourself before speaking. “No, you are.” You said collectedly. “I’m just saying-”

“I’m always spending time with Christine!” Stephen cut you short. “We work together for Christ’s sake!” An irritated groan ripped out of your throat as you shifted in your seat. “Can you stop interrupting me?”

“When you stop accusing me!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “I was going to let it die, Stephen.” You informed him, training your eyes on the dark road ahead of you. You had hoped he would just leave it at that and stay quiet, but as soon as he raised his voice, you knew his ego wouldn’t allow that.

Stephen sneered and you felt the car go a little faster. “And let it run through your head a little bit more?” Your hand instinctively reached for the grab handle and you shot your husband a side-glare. “Can you blame me?” You asked, tightening your grip. “Your ego won’t let anything go because I just asked a question.”

The whole night, something hadn’t been sitting well in your stomach as your husband drove quickly. You blamed it on the speed and the type of road you were driving on. But now it went past that and you felt your breathing pick up. “Stephen, please slow down.” You whispered.

You heard Stephen sigh and you thought he would finally let it go and listen to your pleads. Until he said, “If I knew marrying a lawyer would mean having to justify my work, I would’ve tried to make it work with Christine.” Your chest constricted as you loosened your grip on the handle. “She’d probably be less of a bitch than you are now.”

A breath got caught in your throat as your heart dropped to your stomach. Your jaw dropped slightly and your lip tremble as you looked at Stephen for an apology.

He said he would never hurt you. He said you were enough. He said you were always enough.

But here you are: stupid enough to believe him. You were stupid enough to believe the egotistic man beside you. Tears threatened to spill as you looked away, finally focusing on the car that was seemed too close for your liking.

“Stephen-” Your worried tone wasn’t detected as the back of the Lamborghini sideswiped the car behind you.

That seemed to snap Stephen out of his exasperated stupor as he slammed his foot against the breaks. His hands impulsively turned the wheel to the left to try and straighten out the car. The seatbelt you wore tensed as you were tossed against it and you had the feeling of being slightly choked.

The first hit was expected. However, you never knew how painful it would be to actually hit something. It was somewhat equivalent to getting hit by a truck. The tree hit your side of the car and you were thrown against the seatbelt, feeling the material rub against your skin.

It was another few seconds before the car spun out of control and hit the traffic barrier of the road. This hit launched you head-first into the glass window. That seemed to slow everything down as you felt the car tumble down the mountain-side. Your head throbbed as you were flung around, glass shards flying around you. And if you were screaming, you couldn’t hear it.

The whole thing felt like a death-inducing rollercoaster.

It wasn’t until the third hit against your side, you were finally put into darkness.

Stephen was unfortunately still conscious by the time the car landed in the ditch. He wished he blacked out on the way down, but he didn’t.

The pain finally registered into his brain as he hung from his seatbelt but you were far more important. “(Y/N)...” His voice was slurred as he tried to call out for you. He craned his head the slightest bit which caused a great deal of pain.

But it couldn’t compete with the pain that spread from his chest when he saw you, unconscious and limp, dangling from the seatbelt. Your face was bloodied, bruised and littered with cuts. He saw the incisions on your figure from the glass shards as he attempted to reach out for you, but even thinking about it hurt his body.

“Love…” His voice trailed off as he finally slipped into unconsciousness.

Stephen finally woke up, his hands at his eye level.

He wasn’t put off by the metal needles sticking out of his hands or the stitches that covered them; he was put off by the fact he didn’t have his ring on.

Reality started crashing down on him. The words, the red, the crash, your screams… All of it.

Stephen’s eyes widened slightly as his breathing became slightly laboured. A soft hand placed itself on his shoulder to calm him down. But how could he when he came face to face with the cause of the argument instead of his wife?

“Stephen…” Christine looked like she was on the verge of tears as she glanced up at the doctor.

“Wh-Where is she?” Stephen asked almost immediately, his voice strained, rough, and coarse. He didn’t want to bother with her until he saw his beautiful, beautiful wife again. “Where’s (Y/N)?” When Christine bit her lip to hold back a sob and tears started falling, he knew he got his answer.

“-Severe brain trauma, abrasions, multiple fractures…” Christine mumbled the autopsy report at Stephen’s request.

He deserved to know what he did to you because he remembered his promises to you and your father.

He remembered to keep you safe. To not hurt you. To make you happy. He broke his vows in your last moments.

“She asked me to slow down.” Stephen murmured, cutting Christine off from the painful reading. “It was raining, I was driving at full speed, and she asked me to slow down.” The woman heard the strain in Stephen’s voice as he spoke. “We were fighting a-and…” Stephen let out a soft sob as the female surgeon put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He looked at the point of contact and laughed bitterly. “Do you know what I called her before she died?” Stephen looked out the window, eyes dull and emotionless. “I called her a bitch.” He heard Christine inhale sharply before he continued. “I called (Y/N), my wife, my love and my world, a bitch.”

Tears started flowing again as he let out another sob. “She’s d-dead because of me.” He cried as he leaned forward in his bed, glaring at his hands. “I never even said sorry.”

He felt so guilty. He was riled up and ignored your pleads. He said words he knew he wouldn’t be able to take back.

So when he glared at his hands, he was glaring at himself. His hands were the epitome of his work and the cause of your death.

I deserve this.

Stephen looked up at Christine, tears falling from his eyes and a sad smile painted onto his lips. His eyes glanced over his bandaged finger, the place where his ring should’ve been, before flicking back up to ask Christine, his voice soft: “Do you think I could’ve saved her?”

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fictionerd · 6 years

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Chapter One: Out of Time Entry #3

“Grief is a powerful Motivator” - Rose

---Last Seed, 18th, 4E 201--- Well, the petty larceny went off without a hitch. I figure this "Brand Shei" fellow will be out of a cell by tomorrow morning once bureaucracy grinds itself out. Of course maybe the legal system has become draconian while I slept.

Speaking of sleep. I'd best get used to sleeping in the afternoons. Limit the time I spend in the sun until I find a workaround for that particular weakness.

I know the way I'v e been writing about this makes me seem flippant about the situation. I'm really not. It's eating away at the back of my mind, what I did to Grelod. The way it felt was- I don't really want to talk about it. If it had been traumatic that would be one thing. The problem is that the experience really wasn't. I guess that's the point. Who'd want to continue to live as a vampire if feeding scarred them mentally and emotionally?

Anyway. To bed I suppose. T'is good for mine complexion. Wouldn't want to burn my lovely skin.

Nope. It didn't make me feel better.

>I find myself facing a dilemma. Brynjolf offered to let me join his "organization". I'm one-hundred percent certain he means the thieves guild.

My dilemma is this: Being what I am it'd be a good idea to learn Skyrim's underground. I hold no illusions that I'll be able to indefinitely lead an above-board life. There will likely be times and reasons I need to duck out fo sight.

On the other hand: Sleighting a ring from some one's strongbox into some one else's pocket almost as a prank is one thing. I'm actively considering becoming a thief. I don't have a moral problem with the idea per se, but I'm uncertain if that's a road I want to travel.

Are the risks worth it? I just don't know.

I suppose I'll put the decision on hold. I should probably head back toward Windhelm and let Aretino know Grelod is dead. I may not have intended to fulfill his contract, but since it's done he may as well know so he can return to his friends here.

---Last Seed, 19th, 4E 201--- I fed again. As I was heading out to collect a bounty I felt the hunger start to grow again. Not wanting to go back to the starved state I awoke in I took full advantage when I found the bandit leader asleep in Nilheim. I could have stopped short of killing him, but since I was there to take his head anyway I allowed myself to indulge once more.

I need to not make a habit of that if I can help it. At some point restraint is going to be necessary. I can hear my mother in my head now.

"People live so that they can indulge themselves. The trick is learning when and when not to let yourself go."

>I've sat staring at this page for five minutes. I just remembered a detail about my childhood. I remembered my mother even for a brief moment. I remembered her face.

[Tear stains can be seen on the page]

Are my memories returning as I feed? Or is something else causing them to return?

> I slept fairly peacefully after my last entry. I face another evening now. Night stretches out before me. I've been in Riften two or three days now and no one has come to drag me off to prison so I guess I'm good to go. I'll head up to Windhelm tonight to give my report to Aretino.

I could buy a horse, but I think I'll stick to carriages for the moment. It just feels better to have human company whenever I can.

>I sit now recording this in Candlehearth hall. I arrived in Windhelm after some winding road travel north. It didn't take long all things considered, and the carriage driver was good company. Aretino was beyond pleased that I'd completed his request. I actually sat and talked with the boy for a little bit afterward. He told me he wanted to be an assassin when he grew up so he could help all kinds of kids just like me.

I thought that was precious. I know that most people wouldn't feel that way, but to me that sentiment was cute. Cute and oddly nostalgic. Did I want to be an assassin when I was younger? I think I did. Really the muscle memory I possess for fighting and the spells I could remember when I woke up seem to support the idea.

I had to have trained with very specific instruction to learn how to sneak around with several pounds of steel strapped to my back in the form of a honkin greatsword. Maybe the answers I'm looking for about my past will lie with the Dark Brotherhood?

It was mention of them that drew me to Aretino in the first place. The thought has merit. Unfortunately I don't have the slightest clue how to go about finding the brotherhood so I'll just keep trudging for now.

Getting familiar with Skyrim's underground just got a lot more appealing though.

---Last Seed, 20th, 4E 201--- I did not expect to enter the Windhelm hall of the dead of my own free will. At least not anytime soon.

After my last entry I decided to have a walk around the city, take in the night air, that sort of thing. I happened to be walking through the graveyard when I come upon the site of a murder. The victim was Susanna the Wicked from Candlehearth. I remember her from the night I first woke up. She actually flirted with me a little bit. I recall thinking that was a tad strange. Not unwelcome just strange.

Now she's dead, and unlike me she's not getting back up again without some necromantic assistance. So I decided to investigate. Got permission from the Jarl's steward and everything. I'm officially investigating a murder. Isn't that ironic?

The lady in charge of the Hall of the Dead only noted that the wounds seemed to have been inflicted with embalming tools. Specifically ancient nordic ones. I'd say that safely rules out most of the city's populace as the culprit. Now to find out the scholarly and eccentric types and narrow it down to one from there. Unless we're dealing with a secret cabal of killers all united by their love of embalming implements.

Helgird, the lady in charge here, looked at me funny because I giggled as that last thought crossed my mind. I think I'm developing a morbid sense of humor. Best get back out into the cold and track down my next lead. Shouldn't be any trouble. I've become very good at following blood trails recently.

>Suspicious, old, locked mansion? I do believe we have found ourselves a killer's lair. Wonder what the going rate in town is? I might need one in the forseeable future after all.

>Bingo! A journal discussing the exquisite nature of Susanna's tendons? Amid rablings about sources for flesh, blood, and other such things? Looks like I'm definitely on the right track. Let's see what else I find.

>Now THIS is interesting. A strange amulet found among a pile of these "Beware the Butcher" papers. Seems the killer has been tearing these down. Bad idea if you ask me. They're sort of asking to be caught doing something like that. What's their excuse for it? I doubt it'd stand up to scrutiny.

>And that's a necromantic ritual sight hidden behind a false cupboard. Shit. What have I gotten into here?

>Spoke to the steward about the clues I found in the spooky old mansion. He referred me to a "Viola Giordano" for the Butcher pamphlets and "Calixto" for the amulet. Let's get cracking we have a murder to solve and the sun's coming up.

>Spoke to Giordano about the Butcher's journals. She suspects a fellow by the monicker "Wuunferth the Unliving". If you ask me that's a bit too on-the-nose.

>All roads lead to Wuunferth it seems. According to Callixto the amulet is "The Wheelstone". It's a piece belonging to the court wizard of Windhelm. That'd be our boy the Unliving. I don't like Calixto though. He offered to buy the amulet off me. Ceremonial or not that doesn't seem like a good idea. Especially if the piece is as well-known as his attitude seemed to imply.

I could go to the steward with all this, but I believe I'll talk to Wuunferth directly. If he IS the killer and tries to make a move I'm confident five feet of steel will be enough to dissuade him. Especially at close quarters.

>The Necromancer's Amulet, eh? I think I'm going to go sell this to Calixto after all. Unless I miss my guess it'll be back in my hands again by midnight.

Needless to say my encounter with Wuunferth went well. He's an agreeable old chap in his own way. If he turns out to have set me up it's going to be a real let-down. I don't think he is though. Call it instinct. He has the air of a predator, or at the very least a formiddable presence. He doesn't strike me as a giggling maniac mumbling about flesh magic and killing young girls for spare parts.

>He wasn't home. Too bad. Well I guess I'll have a meal (a normal one) at Candlehearth and sleep the day away. Tonight I catch me a killer.

>And so Calixto, the Butcher, is laid low. I suppose any future reader of this journal will wonder how it is I knew Calixto was my man. Well it's quite simple, really. The idiot was displaying a set of the embalming tools he used to dismember the young women he killed right in plain sight in his little museum.

If Helgird had been the culprit she wouldn't have clued me in about the tools. If Wuunferth had been the killer why would he set me loose to patrol the city rather than quietly be rid of me while we were alone in his study?

All that being said I still wasn't absolutely certain. So I did patrol the city and spotted Calixto in the market as he drew steel to kill someone. I cast a Fury spell on him drawing his attention away long enough for his intended victim and a newly-arrived guard to fall on him. I may have also helped a bit. Now he lies dead in the snow and I feel satisfied with my work here.

Checked his little museum over after he died. Found his last journal. Seems he was trying to resurrect his sister. That's a motivation I can understand. I don't agree with it. Especially since he was building her a patchwork body of about ten or so people, but I get it. Grief is a powerful motivator. Let's hope it doesn't sink its claws into me.

#Skyrim #Character Journal #Take Notes! Mod

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whillsofstars · 6 years

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Chapter 5

*Please let me know what you think. Enjoy!

REY-----------------------------------------------------------

The bond opened itself up again and when it did, Rey found herself on a viewing platform overlooking the hangar bay on one of the First Order’s massive star destroyers.

She stood there marveling in silence taking in the sheer size of the bay and shocked at the number of TIE fighters filed neatly in rows along the walls. Right there in the middle of the landing platform, Kylo’s TIE Silencer rested in all its ferocity. That ship’s appearance alone screamed danger and speed. She doubted many starships could escape its grasp once its blasters were committed to destroy.

Pulling her attention away from that marvel of a ship, Rey took in the rest of her surroundings.

She and Kylo Ren were the only ones on the viewing platform, which wasn’t very spacious to begin with. Big enough for roughly twenty people, anyone wanting to gaze out through the floor to ceiling window overlooking the hangar bay would need to put themselves in close proximity to Kylo Ren’s overbearing figure. An intimidating thought for anyone to imagine. Rey guessed not many would be daring enough to stand at his side, for everything about him looked like a dark lord of the Force and yet, here she was. She was not scared of this man beside her.

Rey noticed that he wasn’t wearing his mask. Come to think of it, Rey hadn’t seen him with his mask since Starkiller base. She wondered if he chose to forgo it entirely now that he was the Supreme Leader or if he kept it only for battle. She wasn’t sure, but she was more at ease when he wasn’t wearing it. Where the mask was designed to hide any form of expression, Rey was now able to see his emotions, and Kylo Ren was not good at hiding them. While he didn’t acknowledge Rey when the bond opened and kept his focus trained on the activity in the hangar below, she chanced a look at his eyes and Rey thought a touch of unease had settled within them.

Moving from his eyes and taking him all in, she couldn’t help but think that Kylo looked a mess. Deep purple bags had settled underneath his eyes, betraying what little sleep he must have received over the past couple days. His brow was furrowed slightly as if the thoughts swirling in his mind demanded deep concentration. It was as if he was calculating something. His usually well-kept hair that naturally fell in soft curls covering his ears seemed neglected. His full lips pressed into a hard line.

What was more troubling was the feel of his Force signature. She could feel the dark side wrapped around him like armor.

What could be putting him on edge like this?

Concern overtook her normally conservative approach that she adopted whenever they met like this. She placed her hand on his shoulder. “Hey...are you alright?”

At her touch, Kylo relaxed his posture ever so slightly and released a heavy sigh.

Inclining his head toward her, “It’s nothing that I can’t handle,” Kylo said, his voice low and even.

“Well you look like you haven’t slept in ages,” she pressed.

He gave a weak chuckle, “I don’t normally sleep well to begin with.”

“But this looks worse than a typical restless sleep. What happened to --”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” cutting her off. “If you’re going to be here, talk about something else,” he snapped.

“Fine,” she said reluctantly. If he didn’t want to talk, then it’s not her problem.

He changed the subject. “How is your lightsaber coming along?”

“Fine.” If he wasn’t going to talk than neither was she. Rey knew it was petty and would likely trigger his temper, but in that moment she couldn’t care less.

It worked.

“What do you mean ‘fine’? Is your hilt completed? Are you ready to place your kyber crystal? Have you meditated on the crystal at all like I mentioned?” he said firing one question after the next.

“Like I said, it’s fine. I’m working on it.”

Two can play at this game, she thought.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Kylo asked accusingly.

“Because you’re being difficult. I’m not the only one who’s going to share here Kylo.”

“What happens within the First Order is none of your concern. I --” she waved her hand, cutting him off.

“I know. You can handle it. You’ve made that perfectly clear, but you still neglect to tell me what’s going on. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like you’re being haunted by a Force ghost.”

Now he was mad. The more she prodded, the more his temper grew.

“Why does it matter?” he growled.

“Because…”

She stopped herself before saying another word. Why did she care if Kylo Ren looked like something was eating at him? He was still the Supreme Leader of the worst lot in the galaxy. The man standing next to her had done terrible things. His sinister blade took the lives of countless people fighting for peace. He killed his own father. He nearly annihilated the Resistance on Crait. This man was a monster.

A heavy silence hung in the air while she still did not answer him. Kylo only continued to watch her, his eyes searching hers for any clue as to what she was going to say next.

That’s when Rey noticed the slightest movement coming from the back of the platform. Another man had entered the viewing room at some point during their fight. The man’s jacket was adorned with neatly-aligned medals proudly displaying his rank.

When did he show up? Rey couldn’t remember hearing another person come in.

She saw the officer slowly reach for the blaster strapped at his hip. To Rey’s surprise, the officer then raised the blaster and took aim directly at the center of Kylo’s back, who remained oblivious.

“Ben!” she yelled and pointed directly over his shoulder. At the sound of his childhood name, Rey had seized all of his attention, but he didn’t move. She had completely taken him by surprise.

Louder this time, “Ben, blaster!”

He hesitated only for a moment as the understanding of her warning settled in. Those deep brown eyes that had been staring into hers widened. It was as if she could see right through them and watch his thoughts unfold. Now he was reacting on pure instinct developed over years of hard training in fighting and survival. He immediately summoned the Force and it violently swirled around the place where they both stood. The energy so raw and alive, Rey could feel it crackling over her skin waiting to be unleashed. The shear power of the darkside he commanded was both terrifying and awe inspiring.

Not even a second later, Kylo spun around so fast that his black robes still hung in the air as he halted the sizzling red bolt in the air just a few feet in front of his face.

While shock and dread began to spread across the officer’s face, blood lust had taken over Kylo’s. He called his crossguard to his hand and ignited his crimson blade with a hiss.

And then everything went silent. That was the last moment Rey witnessed before the bond snapped shut leaving her standing alone in the middle of the Kashyyyk forest, all of her senses still on high alert.

“No,” she whispered, unable to believe what just happened.

“No, no, no,” she repeated in panic. Rey had to know what happened. She didn’t understand it. Why would one of his own men make an attempt on his life? Was it a mistake? No. Rey knew the answer before finishing the thought. But why? Was that the reason Kylo was kept awake at night? Did he fear a coup happening within the ranks of his own commanding officers? She shuddered at the thought. How could you live surrounded by people you didn’t know if you could trust?

What’s going to happen?

For once, Rey was grateful for the bond. She had helped keep him alive.

***

Days passed and still the bond did not open, however she had a feeling that Kylo Ren was still alive. After all, if he had been killed, she would have sensed it, just like she had when Luke left the physical world to become one with the Force, right? Right. It was as if a light had burned out and the energy of the Force was a little less bright.

But not knowing his fate was nagging at her thoughts every moment of her waking hours. Rey had been grasping at any information the Resistance received about the First Order, no matter how small it was. For all she knew, he could be in a medical bay recovering from another blaster bolt that met its mark. He could also very well be battling his way out of a coup. In a regime like the First Order, where utilizing ambition and deceit to climb the ranks of officership with complete disregard for another’s well-being were celebrated, the idea that a coup would rise to seek power, especially with the semi-recent ascent of a new Supreme Leader, wasn’t entirely unheard of. Particularly if there was a group of individuals who did not agree with their new leader’s methods.

Unfortunately for Rey’s worry, there were no unusual changes in the activity of the First Order. In fact, it was almost like their entire fleet had decided to slow their mission to unearth the whereabouts of the Resistance and dedicate more effort to governing the worlds they already conquered.

While she continued to wait until the bond opened again, and slowly the weeks began to pass.

Rey spent most of her days following her regular schedule: meeting with commanding officers looking to persuade more patrons to their cause, working with the mechanics unit to outfit newly-purchased starfighters with their tracking and communications systems, meditating on her kyber crystal until she felt it was ready to place in the heart of her saber, and continuing her walks around the nearby Kashyyyk forest. Anything to keep her mind occupied instead of fixated on Kylo Ren.

She also prefered to spend more time with others. It was far better than dwelling on her thoughts alone.

Finn was all too happy to see more of Rey. He had been worrying too about how she was getting along following Crait. He seemed to think that his new relationship with Rose had been keeping Rey at a distance, thus he made a point to tell her that he would always be there for her to talk to. In part, Finn was right. Rey felt awkward hanging around when they were together. It was almost like she was intruding on their time together, although they always welcomed her with warm smiles and a wave when she stopped by. All her feelings aside, she did appreciate Finn’s remark and it felt good to spend more time with him, for Finn probably knew her better than anyone in the Resistance. He had been there before she became the galaxy’s last Jedi. He already accepted her when she was just a scavenger barely surviving on Jakku. He was a good man and just the ally Rey needed as she navigated her role in the Resistance.

He wasn’t too fond of the way they were stretching Rey’s ability as a Jedi. She had let all of her frustrations and fears spill out one afternoon while they walked on one of the more secluded forest trails. And it felt so good to finally tell someone how she felt. Like a heavy weight that had been placed had been lifted. Finn was a great listener, never interrupting a story while it was being told and always giving his complete attention.

As it turned out, Finn had grievances of his own when it came to the propaganda the Resistance was streaming on the holos across the galaxy. Finn was hesitant that he was being portrayed as a hero because of his bravery in defecting from the First Order. “The Stormtrooper brave enough to do the right thing,” he mentioned. It was clear that Finn did not view himself as such and wasn’t looking for the glory attached to this new perception.

Rey was grateful that he understood. He was a good man and her ally through and through.

She also started spending more time with Poe. One day she asked him to teach her more advanced flying maneuvers. Rey reasoned that she should practice her flying considering the only ship she knew how to fly well was the Millennium Falcon, which was still a fast ship relative to its age, but she needed to know how to expertly pilot a T-70 X-Wing fighter if she hoped to be useful in a dogfight with TIE fighters.

They agreed to train three times a week to review drills and maneuvers in aerial warfare. Rey was always told that Poe was regarded as the best pilot in the Resistance, but it wasn’t until their first practice session that she actually understood why. Not only were his drills skillfully executed and every movement made with a purpose, he also possessed a reckless kind of bravery that gave way to brilliant dives, rolls, and other unconventional techniques. It was as if he was born to be a pilot.

Rey was pleased to note that her piloting did improve. Fast. After every practice, she walked away with more confidence that she could maybe, just maybe, live up to the expectations placed upon her shoulders. Maybe, she thought, she could actually become the legend the Resistance hoped she would be. There were times when she would tap into her newly-awakened Force abilities, and that’s when things would get really interesting. Rey found that she didn’t have to concentrate as hard on what she was doing. It just seemed to happen. It was as if she had trained as a pilot for years. She could sense when a turn needed to be taken at a sharper angle, when to pull out of a dive at the absolute last moment, and when to hit the thrusters to best Poe in a race.

Perhaps the most thrilling and terrifying experience was when she flew high enough into Kashyyyk’s atmosphere to soar among the clouds. When they were so thick that any attempt to navigate by eyesight alone was impossible, Rey discovered that she didn’t need to entirely rely on the navigation system of her X-wing. She could sense where she needed to go and when Poe’s ship was nearby. It was unlike anything she ever experienced before.

Rey decided that there was nothing better in the whole galaxy than flying. It was incredible. As she continued speeding across the canopy of Kashyyyk, all the trees a mere blur below her starfighter, all her worries and frustrations faded away. In this moment, she was free.

***

Rey was seated alone taking in the warmth of a campfire gazing out upon the stars when the familiar silence of the bond filled the air around her. Not once since Snoke bridged their minds has she been this relieved to feel the bond opening.

Could it have already been three weeks? she wondered, recalling all that had transpired since the last time it brought them together.

She whirled around and found Kylo approaching her, staring down at the spot in which she sat.

As he drew near, the fire cast a warm light upon his face making his skin appear less pale and more lively. His eyes seemed to have absorbed the heat of the fire and replaced his normally cold, dark gaze with one more welcoming, the color taking on a deep brown tone. He still had those dull purple bags under his eyes. Apparently his sleeping habits haven’t changed. With the exception of his ever-present darksided energy hanging around him, Kylo Ren actually seemed inviting.

Looking past him, Rey could see that he was alone in his dimly lit quarters. Based on their last meeting and how vividly she saw his surroundings, she assumed that their bond was getting stronger. They could now get glimpses into each others locations. The thought of it was slightly unnerving. She did not want the leader of the First Order witnessing the secret operations of the Resistance. To her knowledge, the First Order was unaware of their new base on Kashyyyk and she had every intention of keeping it that way.

But despite the fact that he was their new Supreme Leader, Rey was relieved to see him.

“It’s been three weeks. Where have you been?” she asked after a moment’s pause while taking him in. She was sure that her relief showed, for the corner of Kylo’s mouth began settling into a smug smirk.

“Did you miss me?” he asked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“N-no, that’s not what I meant,” she faltered. Kriff.

At that, he gave her a patronizing look, “If you’re going to lie, you’ll need to be a lot more convincing and work on your poker face.”

That irritated her. “Look, the last time I saw you, one of your First Order lackeys nearly put a blaster bolt to your head. Did you think I wouldn’t be thinking about that?”

“So you were thinking about me?” He was backing her into a corner here.

This needed to end. Rey wasn’t going to play along with his teasing and she was not going there with Kylo Ren. After all, she didn’t have that part completely figured out either. It’s not like she felt that they were friends exactly. Yes, the bond gave them a unique opportunity to find understanding and comfort in each other. There are very few in the galaxy that could identify with the burden that came hand in hand with wielding the Force. She hated to admit it, but Kylo was the only one she knew who could help her learn about the ways of the Jedi, although she doubted that he would be willing share that particular side of the Force with her. On the other hand, Rey didn’t know if she could move beyond all the terrible acts this man had committed. She still saw him as a monster, yet one she understood a little better. Kylo Ren was a product of everyone else’s ambitions and manipulations, seldom given the freedom to make his own choices. This man standing before her, teasing her, is still one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy and she needed to be careful.

After taking a moment to collect her thoughts and releasing a sigh of frustration, “Okay, fine. Yes I was thinking about you, but what I really wanted to know is what the kriff was that about? You’re their Supreme Leader and that officer took a shot at you. Why would he do that?”

“Now, was that so difficult to admit the truth?” he said clearly dodging her questions.

But she wasn’t backing down on this one.

“Kylo?” she pressed forcefully.

“It’s none of your concern. Let it go Rey.”

“No. You expect the truth from me and I want the same in return. If we’re going to continue these talks, which seems very likely considering the bond didn’t break when you killed Snoke, I’m not going to be the only one sharing.” Her frustration was helping to bolster her confidence. “Tell me what is going on. You’re not alone,” she said, hoping this reminder from Ahch-To would persuade him to open up.

He didn’t have anything to say. She could see his mind working behind his contemplative eyes. Rey almost began to push him for an answer before catching herself. Sometimes prolonged silence can be a powerful tool to get people talking. She just hoped that she was more patient with the silence than Kylo was, though she doubted it. He was a loner and loners were often at ease with silence.

Kylo stood there a few minutes clenching his gloved fist before breaking her gaze and casting his eyes down. With a sigh, his eyes returned to meet hers. He had made his decision.

“There is a coup forming within the First Order ranks,” he stated bluntly. “General Hux is the one stoking the fire, so to speak.” The shock of this news betrayed her emotions because he added, “Rey, this isn’t the first time one of his men has tried to kill me. That happened about two months ago in my personal quarters.”

Kriff. She did not expect that.

“That’s why you haven’t been sleeping,” Rey said as she began filling in the details. But there were still so many questions. “Why is Hux after you now? It’s been close to a year since you killed Snoke and became the Supreme Leader. What’s his motive?”

Kylo clenched his jaw and moved to sit next on the opposite side of the fire. Once settled in, he took to gazing at the flames. Clearly, this was something that he had been meditating on for a while. “I have a suspicion he knows that I murdered Snoke. He’s been slowly gaining support with more of the commanding officers that had in the beginning been neutral to the change in leadership. Little by little, they’ve began blatantly opposing my orders or failing to follow through with them,” he surmised. “Hux must have found something to convince them to join his mission, but I can’t think of what that may be. Currently, it appears to be contained within a smaller group of higher ranking officers and not something spreading throughout the ranks. Both of the assassination attempts were made by higher level officials instead of their grunts, which would have been the more logical approach.”

“If they want you gone, why are they trying to keep this a secret from the First Order at large?” Rey questioned. It didn’t seem like that made sense. If they wanted him gone, why not get everyone involved?

Pensively, Kylo said, “I don’t know. That’s what I have to figure out.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t killed them already. You’re usually so quick to respond with violence,” she pointed out.

At that, he shot her an indignant glare. “I’m sorry your sheltered upbringing in the uncivilized deserts of Jakku makes it difficult for you to see situations in anything other than absolutes, but me killing Hux wouldn’t solve this problem,” he hissed, venom dripping from every word before continuing on. “He is the face of the First Order. Everyone in the galaxy knows who he is and they view him as an important figure in our cause. If he suddenly went missing, there would be questions not only within our military ranks, but from civilians under our rule as well. This is a game you have to win by trapping him in a corner that he can’t back out of, but apparently you only think of me as a monster thirsty for blood.”

Ouch. That stung. But he was, in part, justified. Rey had assumed Kylo possessed a one-track mindset and that involved eliminating a problem through violence. Based on their past experiences and his impulsiveness, she didn’t believe him capable of slow manipulation to diffuse a problem. He must have learned that after many years as Snoke’s apprentice, she surmised.

Trying to diffuse the situation, she asked, “Why do you stay? Is it worth all the effort to hold onto power in the First Order if more and more people want you gone? You could defect and --”

“And then what?” he asked, cutting her off. “Join the Resistance? You know just as well as I that that is not possible.” She could hear his temper rising in his voice. His dark-sided energy was slowly swirling around him, but she pressed on.

“Kylo, you don’t have to stay within the First Order. You have a choice. You can leave,” she pushed, hoping that she could somehow convince him to shed one layer of evil that made him a monster.

“Enough!” he roared not bothering to look at her. Now he was pissed.

Fine. With a sigh, Rey knew that she had pushed him far enough already. She had a feeling that his patience and her luck would run out soon enough, so she backed down.

“We can talk about something else if you like.”

“Sure,” he responded sharply.

Sensing that he wasn’t going to offer any suggestions, Rey sat in silence for a moment before settling on a topic she hoped would lighten the mood.

“Could you tell me about the history of the very first Force-users?” After listening to Kylo talk about the history of lightsabers when they were repairing her own, she could tell that this man was a fool for the Force and the histories of the ones who could command it. She continued, “Luke touched on it while I was on Ahch-To, but I’d like to hear the whole story. Do you know it?”

She was hoping he did. While she had a very vague idea of their origins thanks to the illustrations found in the Jedi texts, but she was thirsty to know more and fill in the blanks left by Master Luke.

It appeared like that was exactly the right thing to ask. Kylo’s face and posture immediately softened. His eyes also took on a warm twinkle. She was right. He truly was a man with an affinity for the Force.

With a slight smile and a degree of relief, “Of course. Where would you like me to start?”

The bond remained open the rest of the night as Kylo eagerly recalled story after story, detailing the beginning of the ancient Force-users.

He spoke to Rey about the creation of the Jedi religion and later the break that eventually led to the Sith. She half-expected him to glorify their religion over the Jedi order, but she had assumed wrongly. Kylo made a point to talk about how the beliefs of each were extreme in their own way and that ultimately neither provided the long-desired balance that the galaxy so desperately needed. The Jedi Order praised self-sacrifice and forbid worldly attachment, while the Sith glorified passion and power, but neither took into account the strengths of the other. He explained that every time one had more dominance over the galaxy than the other, the lesser side would rise up and another war would begin.

While Rey certainly didn’t agree with the idea of having Sith in the galaxy, she found herself agreeing with his perspective of balance, but there had to be another way to achieve it. What that path could be was at that time a mystery to Rey, and one that she wasn’t likely to discover while still trying to find her place in the galaxy’s current conflict. But maybe, just maybe, Kylo Ren was part of the solution to finding it.

As they sat there talking of the Force, the Light hummed alongside the Dark, each welcoming the other's energy like old friends. For now, Rey was content to forget the war and live in the calm of the moment, where two Force-users who find themselves on opposite sides of the board could dare to dream of the opportunity that the future holds.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

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