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hereticpriest · 2 months

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Mercy Chapter 4: Anakin

Rating: Explicit 18+

MDNI

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

To begin with, some warnings about this story: A/B/O Dynamics, Female Alpha, Male Omega, Some chapters may involve messing with the whole 'alphas are always dom and omegas are always sub' because I think nuance exists even in A/B/O dynamics, Fucking with the timeline (this is a blend of Canon, Legends, and original lore), Minimal use of Y/N (Explained in the first chapter), Reader is an alien species of my own creation and thus has a physical description, Familial bonds explored heavily, Clone rights explored heavily, Violence is more graphic than canon-typical however any graphic descriptions will be noted, AFAB reader, Not beta-read so I apologize for any mistakes.

Chapter warnings: Lots of fluff, discussion of Anakin's mistreatment as a slave, canon-typical violence, mild medical descriptions (I tried to keep it very vague to avoid making anyone uncomfortable), Qui-Gon's actions and their affect on Obi-Wan are discussed, canon divergence goes real hard here. If you think I've missed anything, please do feel free to let me know!

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Masterlist - Part One - Part Two - Part Three

Chapter 4: Anakin

The Halls of Healing begin with an open, peaceful reception area. Large windows provide natural light, filtered in the evening to avoid distractions. Triage lays beyond the reception area, leading into countless private rooms. There is a room with several bacta tanks and a bacta bath, along with tables for massage to relieve the pain of old injuries. Operatories lay towards the back of the Halls, loaded with medical droids to assist the healers. The Halls were mostly led by Healers who hadn’t made it through their own Jedi training, either by choice or because their skillset lay outside of that of the Jedi, however there were several Jedi Knights and Masters who worked in the Halls either part-time or full-time.

The Halls have been home to you for many years, and you enjoy the peace, interspersed with bouts of excitement. Your commlink beeps sharply, and you answer it with a serene smile on your face. You got to spend your morning doing the younglings first healer visits, and your heart was full from their youthful energy. You were knighted the year prior, passing your trials with little difficulty, and you were excited to take on a Padawan of your own, though you knew you wouldn’t be ready for several years. Nothing could possibly bother you today.

“Mercy, I have a young boy who needs to have a physical.” Obi-Wan’s soft voice chimes over your commlink, and you perk up.

“You always bring me the best gifts, Kenobi. I’m in the Halls. Room 23.” You click off your commlink, attaching it back onto your belt, then head into the pharmacy you’d only just left. Luckily, you hadn’t put away the small basket of vaccinations. As you head back to your room, you open a new chart on your datapad and set it down on the counter. You refresh the bed, pulling the downy-soft blanket you used to comfort younglings from the sterilizer and folding it across the bed. It doesn’t take long before Obi-Wan opens the door to your room, gesturing for a young boy with sandy-blonde hair to go in ahead of him.

“Anakin, this is Mercy. She’s a Jedi Knight, and a Healer.” Obi-Wan introduces you, “Mercy, this is Anakin Skywalker. Master Qui-Gon picked him up on Tatooine.”

You smile kindly, taking in Anakin’s obvious interest in the lightsaber at your hip, and the tail swaying calmly behind you. You pat the top of the bed, “Would you mind hopping up here?”

Anakin does as he’s asked, and Obi-Wan stands in the corner of the room, out of the way to allow you room to work. You go through the basics with Anakin, filling out his chart as best as he can recall. The boy allows you to take a blood draw, eased by the gentle flow of the Force to make it painless, and you find him severely lacking in several nutrients, and even more vaccinations. When you explain in child-friendly terms that he needs a couple of vaccines to keep him safe, he doesn’t protest, though he asks you half a million questions throughout the process. How do you make it painless? How do you heal with the Force? Can all Jedi heal? What does it feel like when you heal someone?

It’s as you’re doing a physical examination to determine the depth of his malnutrition that you feel a hard piece of metal under the boy’s skin, near the back of his neck. You freeze, and Anakin makes eye contact with you briefly, nervous about your reaction. You take a soft breath, crouching in front of Anakin with your hands on his knobby knees.

“Would you like me to take it out?” You ask, and Anakin’s clear blue eyes widen with wonder at the idea.

“Can you do that?” He asks, glancing back at Obi-Wan for confirmation. You nod, and he grasps your arm with his little hand, nodding eagerly, “Please.”

It’s not a particularly difficult procedure, and it's easy enough to heal the wound as quickly as you create it. The slave chip is subsequently destroyed, and you look at Obi-Wan seriously over the boy’s head as you wipe away the tiny drops of blood left over after healing. Your friend looks older, wiser and more serious than he had the last time you saw him. It’s been months. Every time you return home from a mission, he and Qui-Gon have either just headed out on their own, or are leaving shortly after. It didn’t surprise you - Qui-Gon was a sought after Consular, and you were quickly becoming one as well, making your own mark upon the galaxy.

“He needs to see someone. Talk about his feelings.” You say as you pull Obi-Wan to the side while Anakin occupies himself with your datapad.

“Qui-Gon will-”

“Qui-Gon won’t. Neither will the Council. They mean well, but even Qui-Gon in all his rule-breaking wisdom doesn’t deal with his emotions properly. This boy has not been raised among the Jedi - he doesn’t know anything but the world he was raised in. You should’ve told me he was a slave, Obi-Wan. He needs extra care. Stars, I can’t believe - has Qui-Gon told him that he thinks he’s the chosen one? The weight of that on his little shoulders…” You dig your palms into your eye sockets, then take a deep, calming breath.

“He hasn’t yet, though Qui-Gon told him he was going to be a Jedi, against my cautioning. The Council will never allow it.” Obi-Wan explains, his gaze drifting over to where the boy was unscrewing the back cover of your datapad. You notice, but allow it. You’ve got more than one, and Anakin needs the distraction.

“His training is not my concern, Obi, I care only for his well-being. He’s only nine. He shouldn’t be raised with the fate of the galaxy on his shoulders, whether he’s the chosen one or not. He’s just a boy who misses his mother.” You sigh, leaning your shoulder briefly against Obi-Wan’s, then part from him to approach the youngling.

“You’ll be leaving soon, Anakin. Would you mind putting that back together for me, sprout?” You ask gently, and he gives you a smile bright as the sun. You’d felt his flicker of nervousness that you would reprimand him, and his instant relaxation when he realized you weren’t upset. He begins to put the datapad back together, and you smooth his hair back out of his eyes as you pass him to get a couple of nutrient-rich meal bars and shakes from your cupboard. You hand them over to Obi-Wan, who hesitates as he takes them.

“He needs to have either a bar or a shake with every meal. Three meals a day minimum, with at least two healthy snacks. He needs to put some weight on. Tell Qui-Gon that if Anakin hasn’t gained 6 kilograms by his next physical, I will hold him personally accountable.” You insist, hands sternly on your hips. Obi-Wan smiles fondly at you, and you flick your ears with irritation, cheeks hot. You’re torn from your embarrassment by thin arms wrapping around your waist, and your tail curls automatically around Anakin as he hugs you, holding him protectively to ensure he doesn’t fall. You smooth his hair back again, then poke the tip of his nose.

“Be good. Listen to Obi-Wan more than Qui-Gon - he’s the sensible one of the two of them. Unless he’s being boring, in which case you can certainly listen to Qui-Gon instead.” You tease playfully, “I’ll see you soon for a follow-up, sprout.”

Anakin hides a smile at the nickname, moving to Obi-Wan’s side and holding onto the edge of his robes as they leave the Halls of Healing together. You watch them until they’re gone from your sight, then sigh, closing your eyes to lean into the embrace of the Force.

“Take care of them for me.” You whisper into the ether, unaware of the interesting future before you.

“He set me aside.”

His hair is too short to run your fingers through properly, but you do your best, gently massaging his scalp. You’re curled up on the settee in the living room of your chambers, Obi-Wan’s head in your lap, his fist clenched in the fabric of your robes. His emotions are warring, but here in the safety of your room, he can allow himself to feel and process them without judgement.

“He said I was ready for the trials. I-I felt ready until he said it. He does not put me forward for the trials because I am ready, but rather, so he can train the boy. The chosen one.”

It’s said bitterly, and halfheartedly. Obi-Wan has slowly been cooling off in your embrace, the gentle weight of your tail curled around his stomach helping to soothe him. Your left hand rests in his hair, your right clasped with his, wrist-to-wrist. You haven’t held him this close since you were children, and it eases an ache in your heart you didn’t even know you had.

“You are ready for the trials, Obi-Wan, however it should have been a decision you made with Qui-Gon, not a decision made without your input. Qui-Gon made a mistake, as all Masters do. I’m sure he will apologize when he realizes the error of his ways.” You murmur, tracing your finger along the shell of his ear. He sighs, rolling over to face you and burying his face in your stomach.

“We leave for Naboo tonight. The Queen means to reclaim her homeworld, and we’ve been instructed to go with her to protect her.” Obi-Wan mumbles into your tummy. You hum, tracing your fingers over his Padawan braid and watching him shiver at the attention. It was surprisingly intimate to touch someone’s Padawan braid, and you expected him to reprimand you, but he only leaned into your touch.

“Would it make you feel better to know that I’ll be joining you to Naboo?” You ask, and you feel Obi-Wan stiffen in your lap, his Force signature bright as a star.

“Truly?” He asks as he sits up, and you laugh softly, nodding.

“I asked my old Master, and he convinced Master Yoda and Master Windu that I would be an asset for my healing ability if nothing else. What would you do if the Queen were injured, after all?” You grin conspiratorially, and Obi-Wan gives a happy sigh, pressing his forehead to yours.

“It’s almost time. I should get ready to go.” Obi-Wan says with a hint of whine to his voice, drawing another chuckle from you.

“Go on, dear. I’ll see you soon.”

You feel him melt against you at the term of endearment, and vow to use it more often if that’s the effect it's going to have.

Naboo is a beautiful planet. Green and lush and full of life. You feel full of the Force here, even as the impressive - but in your opinion, far too young - Queen Amidala leads you through the streets of her capital city. Droids and despair line the streets like a plague. You’re furious to find Qui-Gon appears to intend to just bring Anakin along and hope he doesn’t get shot, though you know the Jedi Master would protect the boy with his life. You’re being overly critical, defensive in the wake of Obi-Wan’s pain.

Together, you make swift work of the droids in the hangar, and the pilots fly off in their fighters. You hesitate to leave Anakin alone in the fighter, but you tell him to close the cockpit and crouch down if anyone comes in, the Force whispering at your back to have faith. The doors to the rest of the palace open, and before you stands Darth Maul, the Sith Obi-Wan had encountered with Qui-Gon on Tatooine. He’s a red-skinned Zabrak with black markings, and you wonder briefly if the Sith specifically sought him out because he looked evil, and if he would have even had the propensity for evil if he hadn’t been born looking the way he did. Was it nature or nurture that made Maul who he was?

You launch yourself forwards, the Makashi opening coming so naturally to you you barely even realize you have reverted to your old form. Your blade catches Maul’s as it is about to slice Obi-Wan’s thigh, and you growl at the Sith, baring your sharp canines at him in a threat display you hadn’t used since Daiyu. He clashes with Qui-Gon, then back to you, and your riposte makes him swirl away from you to gain distance. Obi-Wan fills that gap, and you continue to drive him back together as a triad. Between two Ataru wielders, your Makashi form finds purchase, until you hear a clanky rolling sound.

“Droidekas.” You curse, force pushing Maul back, then spinning on your heels to face the new threat and protect your allies, “both of you, stay in one piece while I take care of them.”

Separated, you do your best to keep their force signatures in mind as you face off against the countless droidekas that have rolled into the room on various platforms. You feel Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon’s struggle through the force, only feet away from you, but you are useless to help them at the moment. You have the advantage over the droidekas in such a tight space, but they have numbers, and two on higher floors harrang you from above, keeping you on the defensive.

Ray shields.

Your spine stiffens, and your ears twitch as you feel the pull of the Force against you, and swing your head to see Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan and Darth Maul approaching a long corridor. Obi-Wan is further back, and he gets caught in between the last ray shields while Maul stands in the wider chamber beyond the corridor, and Qui-Gon kneels patiently one shield behind him. You force push a droideka off the platform it’s on when it nearly gets you in the hip, batting away blaster fire as you watch your companions desperately.

Something hangs in the balance here. You have an awful feeling deep in your gut, and you can’t look away. The ray shields open one by one, and Qui-Gon meets Maul’s sabre with ease. Obi-Wan runs, and you see it happening - the ray shields are closing, and Obi-Wan will be cut off. As skilled as Qui-Gon is, no one has faced a Sith in a thousand years, and Ataru is not necessarily the best form for lightsaber to lightsaber combat. Qui-Gon will face the Sith alone, and he will not be able to do it by himself. Qui-Gon will face the Sith alone, and he will die.

No, he won’t.

You reach out, grasping at the shield generator on one side of the corridor as Obi-Wan races towards the circular chamber at the end. A roar rips its way from your throat as a blaster bolt tears its way through your side, but you focus on your goal single-mindedly, and you rip the shield generator open long enough for Obi-Wan to get through. You clutch your side with your left hand, swirling your lightsaber around your hand, then leap across to the nearest platform. Close-combat is not the speciality of a droideka, and you rip your way through them now, fueled by the sound of blood rushing in your ears, and a rightness in the Force with what you’ve done.

“No!” You hear Obi-Wan shout, but you don’t have time to turn and look. No one is dead, and that’s enough. You can work with ‘not dead’. You were about to begin to heal yourself as you tear the last droideka apart, but instead choose to save your strength. You’ll need it for whatever injury Qui-Gon has sustained, and it wouldn’t be the first or the last time you fought injured in order to heal someone else.

In a rush, the blackness seeping through the Force rushes away, and you jump back down to the platform leading into the ray shield corridor. You catch yourself when you stumble, clutching your side a little tighter as you approach your fellow Jedi.

“Very impressive, my young Padawan.” Qui-Gon praises shakily, and you smile at the relief on Obi-Wan’s face as he clutches his Master in his lap. There’s a slice into Qui-Gon’s hip, and you frown as you approach, clipping your lightsaber to your hip.

“I told you to stay in one piece, Qui-Gon Jinn.” You scold the older man, and he smiles weakly, brushing his fingers across Obi-Wan’s cheek.

“Technically, I am in one piece.” He replies, and you roll your eyes, crouching beside them.

“Barely.” Your retort is soft, and you place your hand against his hip, closing your eyes. The Force comes to you as readily as it always does when you wish to heal, and you knit flesh and Force together, encouraging Qui-Gon’s cells to repair the damage. The stiffness in his frame eases, and he relaxes into Obi-Wan’s arms, breathing out a sigh of relief. It will take time to fully heal, but you’ve eased his pain and begun the process. You slip a bacta patch from your med pouch and apply it carefully, then grab another for yourself, pulling your cloak out of the way to expose the ragged tear in both your robes and your torso.

“Mercy-” Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon begin to scold you in unison, but you cut them both off with a look as you apply the bacta patch to your skin.

“A thank you will suffice.” You retort, getting to your feet and holding out your hand to Qui-Gon, “Together, Obi-Wan. We should find our way to the Queen.”

You’re met with a glare, but he helps you lift his Master, and the three of you begin to make your way back through the halls of the palace. The sound of cheers reaches your ears, and you puff out a sigh of relief, silently thanking the Force for guiding you to this moment. In the hangar, you find Anakin clambering out of a fighter with carbon scoring and hints of blaster fire.

“Stars above, I’ve been saddled with keeping three menaces alive.” You grouse, and both Master and Padawan sheepishly laugh beside you, “Sprout! Are you alright?”

Anakin beams when he sees you all, though his face falls in concern when he notices you holding Qui-Gon up. He races to you, clearly failing to see you were also injured as he slams bodily into you, arms locking around your waist and face buried in your stomach. You bite back the wince, allowing Obi-Wan to take more of Qui-Gon’s weight so that you can put your arms around the boy.

“Are you okay Master Qui-Gon?” he asks, and the older Jedi reaches out a hand to ruffle the boy’s hair fondly.

“I will be fine, Ani. Tell us all about your adventure while we find the Queen.” he instructs, and you walk together as the boy begins to weave a wild tale of starfights and flying inside of an exploding battleship. You think you have at least one heart attack by the time the story is done, and Obi-Wan doesn’t look much better.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x oc #obi-wan kenobi x original character

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nostalgiacauseitstrendy · 7 months

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Long, Long Time- F!Reader x Kabal

I've been really sad and this song destroys me every time I hear it (the last of us episode didn't help at all). Listen to "Long Long Time" by Linda Ronstandt for full immersion.

Y/n and Kabal were seeing each other before his burns. After the incident, Kabal joins the Black Dragon and pulls away from Y/n. All references to "he" is about Kabal.

--------

When Y/n needed to get anything off her chest, she would go to a local karaoke bar to sing away her feelings. That's where they met a few years ago, when he was just a rookie cop. He used the cheesy, "come here often?" line that made her giggle. They'd spend hours laughing the night away. He would be entranced by her voice. A sudden chill shook her out of her daydreaming.

Sometimes she wished she would run into him. What would she say? Would it matter? Would he show up with someone else? Its been almost a year since she had last spoken to him.

Y/n sauntered up to the stage, grabbing the microphone as if it was routine. Her voice carried across the old, brick bar.

Love will abide,

Take things in stride

Y/n's friends always showed up to support her performances. They were always the ones telling Y/n to get back out there, to start anew. They always spouted the typical euphemisms for getting over him- "there's plenty of fish in the sea," and all that nonsense. All hopes that she'd ever find love again have long since been buried.

Sounds like good advice

But there's no one at my side

Y/n just ignored their words, but stated she appreciated the advice. None of it helped, however. She couldn't imagine herself with anyone else, in reality, didn't have the will or energy to try. No one had ever made her feel the same way he had- and no one would ever again.

And time washes clean

Love's wounds unseen

They always say the passage of time heals all wounds- Y/n found that to be nothing but empty words. They held no meaning- the day he disappeared hurts now as much as it had then. She had tried texting, calling, even showing up outside the Black Dragon. Not a sight, not a sound.

That's what someone told me

But I don't know what it means

No advice, no time, nothing was healing this pain in her heart. A piece of her was missing. Her friends eventually gave up trying to reconcile with her pain and supported her the best they could. Coming to this bar made her feel like a masochist in a way, but it was the only piece of him she had left.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

She had tried everything. He was hers for a long time. She was his forever, and she hated that now. When Kabal received his injuries, he began pulling away. He thought he was a burden and that Y/n deserved better.

She always reassured him that the wounds didn't mean anything to her. She asserted that he was the only one for her, no matter what happened to him. These words fell on deaf ears, as Kabal was too absorbed in his own grief.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

Before the burns, she first told him she loved him on a date. Walking through town on a clear summer night after a lovely dinner, Y/n turned to Kabal.

The moon shone on her face, her eyes alight with the flurry of the night, she told him she loved him. He froze before smiling ear-to-ear and telling her that he loved her too.

Caught in my fears

Blinking back the tears

She saw him change after the burns. He was colder, more callous. The night he rejoined the Black Dragons is where she pinpoints the beginning of the end. She expressed her concerns to him one night, leading to a major argument. He wanted to re-join the Black Dragons to regain control in his life. She wanted him safe. The argument ended in screams and tears, no resolution.

I can't say you hurt me

When you never let me near

Then one day, he was gone without a trace. She normally would see him after work at her apartment. He was a bit cold the night before, but nothing out of the ordinary.

And I never drew

One response from you

Despite all the texts, calls, attempting to hunt him down, she couldn't find him.

She sent him a text saying, "Really, after everything we've been through, you are just going to pick up and disappear?"

The message was delivered, she never knew if he read it. Not a single response.

All the while you fell

All. over girls you never knew

Y/n knew there was girls at the Black Dragon, all the time. She would overhear Kabal's buddies talking about them, how attractive they were, Kabal agreeing with smiles. She began to wonder if he left her for one of them. Maybe that's why he had withdrawn from her the past few months?

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

At first, she blamed herself. Maybe she wasn't good enough. Maybe she drove him off. Was she not supportive? Did she make him feel like he wasn't good enough?

There was nothing she wouldn't have done to make him stay.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

Not a day goes by when she doesn't think about him. She had to put away many trinkets and collectibles in her apartment- even a certain dvd or cd made her think of him. Gifts he's given her, clothes she's snagged- had to be put out of sight. Out of moments of weakness, she'd dig out some clothes he'd left and hold them tightly. His scent always brought tears to her eyes.

Wait for the day

You'll go away

The song, reaching its climax, made the memories more salient for Y/n, something she valued, but also something she hated. She was reliving the day she came home to an empty apartment.

Knowing that you warned me

Of the price I'd have to pay

She knew the dangers of the Black Dragon, he warned her she'd be endangered due to her relation to him. He would emphasize that his occupation risked her life. She didn't care. She'd risk it all for him. She would have paid any price to keep him near.

And life's full of flaws

Who knows the cause?

None of the adversities they faced seemed worthy of his disappearance in her eyes. Sure, life was unfair, but him leaving seemed the most unfair in her eyes. Why not face it together? Why insist on facing it alone?

Living in the memory

Of a love that never was

That really was it, wasn't it? She was stuck in a sick cycle of her memories. She just kept reliving the past to feel anything at all. Just maybe if she relived it enough it would keep the memory of him alive. Just maybe he would show up again. This caused her the grip the microphone hard, her knuckles becoming more visible.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

At this point, Y/n felt weak. She really had done all she could. She fought as hard as she could. Her stomach felt uneasy, her knees felt like they would give out at any moment. She felt exactly the same way she had that damned day.

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

She had melted into the song at this point. So much emotion, so much pain had driven her to numbness. In the end, that is all she knew- she still loved him. Always will.

'Cause I've done everything I know

To try and make you mine

Someone was in attendance, though Y/n never noticed. He was well-hidden in the back after all. His hoodie, dim facemask, and baggy attire hid his identity well. He had been following her for the past few months, though she was not privy to it.

Her performances usually riled something up in him, but nothing quite like this. He felt tears brimming in his eyes.

He thought he was protecting her by leaving. Surely his connection to the Black Dragon would get Y/n killed. If they caught her on a moment he wasn't there...he didn't want to imagine the carnage. He thought he was a burden to her. She could do better. Why didn't she move on? This would have made it so much easier for him.

Why couldn't he move on?

And I think I'm gonna love you

For a long, long time

Finished and between the cheers, Y/n sat down. She almost fell into her seat, dizzy from emotion. Maybe a few minutes went by before a server came to the table full of her friends and dropped off a beer with a note directly in front of her. The note read, come here often? She turned to look behind her.

--ill write a part 2 if asked.

#mk #kabal #mk kabal #kabal x reader #reader x kabal #reader insert #female y/n #female reader #y/n #mortal kombat x reader

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excelsi-or · 5 months

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summoned (pt. 14)

hello, friends! :D there are only two more parts after this, and the next time I post, I'll post them at the same time! i think this part is really fun. i enjoyed pulling parts from Good Omens. i hope you guys have had a good november :) BIPOC recommendation: I've been watching the R&B Money podcast with Tank and J Valentine. Their energy is great and they have some great guests on there. Also Tank's R&B Money album is a total vibe.

pairing: woozi x fem!reader/fem!OC

w.c. 2.7k

Jihoon speeds through the streets even faster than usual. This is more challenging with everyone slowing down to stare up at the sky. Some of the traffic lights are also out of power. Jihoon blows through all those intersections.

Seokmin has to do damage control as they go. While he also tries not to vomit.

At Mrs. Han’s shop, as soon as she reaches for the doorknob, it unlocks. She leads the way to the back room, shutting off the alarm as they go.

“Well, it’s extremely convenient to have her here,” Seokmin mutters.

She turns the computer on. “Sollie, this is all you.”

Hansol shakes his head, sitting at the desk. “You know I don’t have the skills to—” His eyes widen when the computer unlocks and the application they want opens. He looks around at his three companions.

The angel and demon turn to her. However, Hansol is her focus.

“Sollie?”

“Right.” Hansol turns to the computer and clicks around. He’s not computer illiterate, but he definitely has limitations.

One being that he’s never seen this program before and isn’t even sure what they’re looking for. He gets lucky and finds the history of what the computer has been used for. “Looks like we could be going here.” He highlights the name of the first reactor that Mrs. Han’s computer had hacked into. Over a year ago.

She researches it and winces.

“What’s wrong?” Seokmin asks.

“It’s pulling us coast to coast.” She turns her phone to show off the map. “It’ll be really hard to come to anyone’s rescue.

“Can’t you guys, I don’t know, teleport or something?” Hansol asks.

“But not with someone.” Seokmin lets out a long, tired sigh. “And we rarely teleport to the exact location. We can get general area at best.”

A loud howl of wind shakes the back door. The lights flicker overhead.

“Let’s go to the farther one,” she says to Jihoon. Seems the building will stay standing. “And we’ll… we’ll just have to figure it out as we go.”

“And you’re worried because Seokmin hyung drives like a grandma,” Hansol says as they head back out.

She gives Hansol a hug. The wind tries to tear them apart. The skirt of her dress billows around them. “Be safe, okay?”

He nudges her head with his. “We need to live long enough to see Seungcheol hyung and Jeonghan hyung get married.”

She snorts as she pulls away. “I told them to video call us today if they really did listen to me and decide to get married today.”

Seokmin comes in for a hug. “You told them the world was going to end today?”

“And they believed you?” Jihoon asks.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure how today’s going to end. But I told them we’d be busy, so they had to call us.” She steps back and bows her head. “I’m sorry I never told you the whole truth.”

Seokmin cups her face with both hands and squeezes her cheeks, which always makes him smile. “That’s okay. I think I had more fun not knowing.” He quickly heals the burn on her chest despite her howl of pain. He chuckles when she swats him. “It’d hurt more if you were fully human.”

“Really?”

Seokmin shrugs. “Possibly.”

She lets Jihoon pull her away. “You’ll get to your reactor first. Let us know if there’s anything… off.”

As they climb into Jihoon’s car, he grumbles about how long those goodbyes were.

She buckles her seatbelt, her head down as she tries to swallow the lump in her throat. “This could be the last time I see them as a human.”

“You’re not really human now.” Jihoon peels out of his street parking spot, knocking into two different cars as he goes. She waves a hand in the direction of the cars while simultaneously punching in the address for the first reactor.

Jihoon glances over at her. “Those people are probably not going to need their car.”

“If I get any say, the world is not going to end today.” She settles back into the seat, adjusting her skirt so that she can comfortably sit criss-crossed without wrinkling the dress too much.

“Are you going to sleep?”

With her head still against the headrest, she turns to face him. “Unless you wanna talk.”

Jihoon shrugs, holding his hand up for her.

She lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh and drops her hand into his. “Wouldn’t have pinned you as the hand holding type, Demon.”

“Jihoon, if you will, human.”

She scoffs, adjusting her grip in his. “I guess that’s better than Antichrist.”

“And in response to your comment, you are pleasant to touch.”

She looks over at him in surprise, now properly laughing in disbelief. “You really are a romantic. How did you ever wind up a demon?”

Jihoon hesitates. She feels his grip shift in her hand.

“You didn’t sell your soul,” she states, studying him. “Did you…”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

She nods. “Well, then can we at least talk about this?” She lifts their interlocked hands. “We’re not committing, are we?”

“If this all goes to your plan, I’m assuming you won’t be the Antichrist anymore, so I won’t be able to touch you anyway.”

“Hmm.” She turns towards the window, watching the city zip by, quickly changing to highway. “Unfortunate. You’re good at it.”

“What?”

“Touching me.”

Jihoon turns to her with a raised eyebrow. “My offer still stands. Of staying in bed all day.”

She shakes her head, grinning at her reflection in the side mirror. “No, there’s no time, Jihoon. I probably don’t get too many chances to convince the Horsemen to hold off.”

“Okay. Well then. For what it’s worth, last night was really great.”

This causes her to look back his way. “Are you always this honest with the humans you sleep with? Or do you tell all of us that?”

Jihoon glances over at her, his eyes returning to the road as he slips around a Tesla. “I haven’t slept with any other humans in recent history.”

She blinks in surprise at this information. It clearly makes Jihoon uncomfortable to discuss it further. Her mind runs through different ways to respond to this statement. She knows that he’d manipulated her mind slightly the night before, as she had done his. All in the name of pleasure. To learn that he hasn’t done the same with recent humans before her…

“Have you… been with demons? Angels?”

Jihoon keeps his gaze on the road, his answer being drawn out.

Her mind whirls at the possibilities, but she doesn’t press.

And her patience rewards her.

“No.”

She takes a moment to process the weight of this one-worded answer. “Then, I guess I’m honoured.” She waits for him to look her way. When he does, she continues. “Since you enjoyed it.”

He chuckles, the tightness in his jaw relaxing. She hears something akin to cars scratching against each other. Over her shoulder, she flicks her fingers, quickly fixing the car Jihoon scraped.

“Do you know what you’re going to say to the Horsemen?”

“I’m think we’re also going to need to deal with… Him. Your ‘Him’, not Seokmin’s.”

Jihoon’s body stiffens. “You think so?”

“That’s sort of the point of the Antichrist.” She smirks. “Wish I took Seokmin instead of you?”

“No. I’m with you until the end of the line, human.”

She narrows her eyes at him, wondering if he’s making a movie reference. Although, it’s so unlike the demon she knows that she assumes not.

And she can’t fathom where and when he even watched the movie.

“I’m sort of just hoping the words come to me.”

Jihoon scoffs. “Great. I’m glad the future of the world is held in your capable hands.”

She pecks the back of his hand. “You definitely thought my hands were capable yesterday, so I’m hoping it all works out.

“The only way for us to get there is if we go at max speed.” Jihoon reverses and revs the engine.

“And also bust through cement?” she demands. She reaches for his arm to stop him. “Hold on.”

“How can we hold on anymore?” Jihoon motions to the bridge that they’d just passed under that is now on fire. They can hear the honking from all the traffic, which is now starting to pile up, which is only causing the fire to burn hotter and brighter.

“Your literal presence is causing things to burst into flame.”

“Okay, that’s not all me,” she argues. “Even if we’re not completely human right now, the car is still human made. And is still limited by some human limitations.”

Jihoon frowns. “So,” he draws this out, “how are we going to get through the fire?”

“Well, we’ll have to drive through that. But we shouldn’t ruin the car by driving through cement.”

“We don’t have time to argue this.” He turns the car again so that they’re moving away from the bridge.

“Where are you going now?”

“You didn’t want me to drive through the barrier!”

“Turn around and go back the way we came!”

“There are literal cars in the way?”

“If we come out of the fire in one piece, then I’m sure we’ll come up with an idea.”

“Do you even hear how illogical you are sounding right now?” He shakes one hand in the air for emphasis of the following statement: “We’ll be on fire.”

“And you’re going to what instead? Drive all the way to a U-turn point? When we’re short on time?”

Jihoon makes some inhumane, annoyed sounds. Still, he completely reverses the car so that they’re driving against the traffic. He lays on the horn as cars move out of the way for him.

“Are you going to do anything to protect us?” Jihoon asks.

“My… whatever the fuck, power or whatever, is limited.”

Jihoon doesn’t even have time to laugh at ‘whatever the fuck’. “You can alter reality though, can’t you?”

“You want me to what? Imagine that we’re not going to be on fire?” she asks. The fire is coming up quickly.

“Just think of something!” Jihoon takes a deep breath as he floors it, urging the car a bit faster.

She frowns, as she tries to rack her brain for how to make this work. She’d been hoping that they’d just drive fast enough through the fire that they wouldn’t need to worry too much about it. Her parents had briefly mentioned what would happen when the powers came in.

Out of her father’s earshot, her mother had properly explained the purpose of the Antichrist.

Neither of them had explained how to use the powers.

Jihoon doesn’t confirm whether she’s come up with anything. It seems the demon just trusts her, as he ploughs straight into the fire. While inside, it seems the fire goes on forever, and she has to hold her breath at the flames’ intensity. Her skin prickles, and one bead of sweat begins to slip down the line of her back.

Next to her, Jihoon mutters. She swears he’s giving his car an aggressive pep talk. The words are angry, almost as if he’s cursing the car. The car squeals angrily, apparently struggling to hold itself together. The engine groans at the intense pressure.

When they break through the other side, they both exhale loudly.

“We fucking survived,” Jihoon says in disbelief.

There’s no time to celebrate, as he has to swerve a hard left to avoid ramming straight into the cars on the other side. He moves to the shoulder of the road, his hand on the horn to drown out the other incessant honking of other drivers.

The emergency vehicles speed towards them.

“Jihoon,” she warns.

“Yes, I can see it.” His eyes dart towards the right, gauging the space between cars. She notices the way his eyes flick cat-like.

The firetruck barreling towards them blares its horn in response to Jihoon.

“Jihoon.”

The demon’s voice comes out strained. “Yes, I can see it. Thank you.” The steering wheel begins smoking as Jihoon’s hands burn through the leather. “You couldn’t have saved my fucking car.”

“Be glad we’re not on goddamn fire,” she snaps back. Her hands go for the dashboard to steady herself, but she jumps back at how hot it is. It’s hotter than Jihoon’s skin, definitely hotter than fire.

She closes her eyes and begins to pray.

“Really?” Jihoon demands, glancing over at her. “Now?”

“Sorry, but I don’t really want to die before we get there.” Her lips mouth some sort of prayer.

“And you think God’s going to listen to you? Of all people?”

The firetruck is now also just laying on the horn.

“I can’t save us from that.”

“I am well aware.”

“Then fucking do something about it!”

Jihoon swerves a hard right. She winces at the loud screeching noise as Jihoon scratches the two cars they drive between. He ignores the cursing from the drivers. Which is probably a good thing, because Jihoon could actually curse them back.

“You fucking rushed me,” Jihoon huffs.

“How is that relevant right—” she grunts as Jihoon weaves through the standstill traffic, ignoring every side mirror he hits and the two doors he yanks off their hinges.

Finally, there’s a break in the cement barrier and Jihoon guns towards it. She groans, leaning her head back against the seat.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Apparently being the Antichrist doesn’t protect against car sickness. She says as much.

“We’re trying to save the—”

The phone starts ringing in the car.

“When the car is on fire, it connects to Bluetooth?” She quickly taps the screen.

“Where are you guys?” Seokmin hisses.

“In traffic trying not to get fucking lit on fire,” Jihoon snaps.

Hansol’s voice comes through in a whisper. With the cacophony on all sides, they nearly miss what he says, “Well, you guys should hurry.”

“Uhm.” She glances at the map on her phone. It’s still 4 hours away even with the good time they’ve made. She lifts the phone into Jihoon’s eyeline so that he can see the projected ETA.

Jihoon grimaces.

She lurches backwards as Jihoon somehow makes the car go faster. That shaves off almost an hour. “What’s happening? Why are you guys whispering?”

“Well, obviously we’re here—” Seokmin stops mid-sentence. Suddenly, alarms start blaring. It takes she and Jihoon a second to realize it’s not from their end. Hansol and Seokmin’s voices lower even further as they whisper back and forth.

She has to strain to hear more, eventually turning the volume up a bit more, but she hears a door close.

“What’s going on?” she asks when it seems like nothing changes.

“They could sense Seokmin.” It sounds as if Hansol has the phone pressed right against his lips. “So, he had to—” He inhales deeply.

“Your scent will likely mix with the other humans on site,” Jihoon tells him. “Relax. You should be okay. Especially with Seokmin running around there.”

“Okay, well.” Hansol is now just breathing words into the phone. She turns the dial a bit more, unsure if it’s even doing anything. “Those horsemen people are here and they’re… I’m not really sure what they’re doing. They’re kinda just…”

She can imagine Hansol gesturing, but she can’t imagine what the gesture is.

“They’re just touching everything, and stuff breaks.”

“Hence the alarms.” She dreads saying her next words. “You know you’re going to have to be the one to try to fix things.”

“I thought that’s why you were…” Again, Hansol’s voice shifts.

“Are you curled up in a ball right now?”

“They keep walking back and forth. I’m scared they’ll hear me.”

“You’re going to need to fix whatever they broke. In case I can’t do anything.”

“Then will it even matter?” Hansol hisses.

“See you soon.”

“You’re doing that thing where you’re ignoring me because you don’t like what I’m saying.”

“Good luck.”

pt. 15

#woozi scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi #woozi fic #seventeen #seventeen imagines #lee jihoon scenarios #seventeen scenarios #svt #lee jihoon

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most-tragic-character-tournament · 6 months

Note

Ok cTubbo's still losing it's time for me to whip out the propaganda

I've been mentally ill over this cube man for a year I'm not letting him lose without a fight

So in this I'm going to list all the tragic events in his life in order (although DISCLAIMER I might forget some stuff or get stuff wrong fellow dsmp fans please don't @ me)

He was a child soldier. Canon ages of basically all the characters are dubious at best, but if we go by cc!Tubbo's age he was only 16 at the time of the L'manburg Revolution. That's only one of the THREE wars he fought in but we're going in order and more shit happened in between the L'manburg revolution and the next war he fought in (Manberg v Pogtopia) so PUT A PIN IN THIS

He DIED in the aforementioned L'manburg Revolution. For the unacquainted, characters in the DSMP get 3 "canon" deaths, so you get to die canonically 3 times before dying For Real, so he came back after, but he still DIED, which hurts!

He had to watch his best friend (cTommy) and basically big brother figure (cWilbur) get exiled from the nation THEY HELPED BUILD.

He was forced to be a spy

The aforementioned being a spy...ness lead to him getting EXECUTED. Mind you going by cc!Tubbo's age he STILL was only 16 or 17!

Did I mention the fireworks and the box?!? Ohhh boy. The fireworks and the box. This was his canon event. You know when people say "x never truly left y"? CTubbo never truly left The Box. This is the ROOT of soooo much trauma. He was trapped in a tkiny box and shot to death. First off, he was SHOT TO DEATH WITH FIREWORKS. That is one of the most painful ways to go. You're getting shot to death AND burned to death at the same time. This left him with permanent scarring. Second, he was killed at a festival that HE DECORATED HIMSELF. I could go on and on about why the red festival and Tubbo's execution are tragic as hell but I'll stop here cus I have more shit to cover.

*takes pin out of thd first point* He fought in a war AGAIN

He was appointed president of a country at 17 (again, going by cc!Tubbo's age, also don't quote me on that number he might've still been 16, I don't remember. The point is he was YOUNG. Like, that's a high schooler!(in the US anyway))

His basically older brother figure killed himself immediately after he got appointed president

He was manipulated into exiling his best friend not long after becoming president

He was led to believe said best friend committed SUICIDE while he was in exile (cTommy was alive, but cTubbo thought he was dead for a pretty long while)

Doomsday. Just. All of Doomsday. Finally giving up on L'manburg, the country he'd loved and fought tooth and nail for, and still they lost. He lost. Reconciling with Tomny, his best friend, only not really, because their friendship has been so damaged. Just- EVERYTHING.

Also Doomsday was technically a war so that's the 3rd war he fought in

He tried to sacrifice himself for his best friend.

He INVENTED NUKES. He's literally DSMP Oppenheimer to an extent. He invented nukes because he's had to fight so hard to keep the people and things he loves safe that he went all the way to the extreme of INVENTING NUKES to keep his family safe.

SAID NUKES ENDED UP KILLING HIM

He lost his husband! C!Ranboo fucking died!

He lost his son! Michael was kidnapped MULTIPLE TIMES (at least TWICE) And then thanks to the shitty ass finale making him LOSE HIS FUCKING MEMORY, HE DOESN'T EVEN REMEMBER!!!

He lost his best friend MULTIPLE TIMES (he lost metaphorically Tommy because of exile and how their relationship was damaged, then he thought he'd lost Tommy LITERALLY because he thought Tommy committed suicide in Exile, AND THEN, not long after Tommy got out of Exile, before they could repair their relationship, Tommy DIED. FOR REAL THIS TIME.)

And finally, his story ended not with him getting a chance to heal, but with him dying to his own nuke and then getting memory loss. And him getting memory loss is ALSO tragic in its own way but I won't go into that cus this is getting long.

So yeah here's my propaganda. /rp for all of this. I know I already put c__ in front of most of the names but just in case. I don't want anyone to get confused and think I'm talking about Actual Real Life 19-year-old YouTuber Tubbo.

I'm gonna end this out with this:

I don't know SHIT about Madoka Magica. I've not seen it yet. But I bet Sayaka Miki didn't die THREE times.

[Propaganda]

#propaganda #c!tubbo #tw child abuse #tw death #tw execution #tw suicide #tw manipulation

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sakurasfallingstar · 10 months

Text

ShiSaku Week: Day 7

Shisui is an idiot.

The biggest idiot I ever met.

Ever since Danzo had raged war against my shishō with root, nothing had been the same. My once peaceful home became a battle field. Children were constantly being left orphaned left and right from families crossfire, and parents would often be loosing their own children as well.

Bodies and kunai were often scattered left and right. Most of us had to stoop low and steal supplies from fallen comrades and enemies. We just had to survive.

My team are stationed I'm the front lines along with the majority of Konoha 11. We used to be 12, but we lost Neji a while back.

Turns out he'd do anything to ensure Hinata's survival.

Anyways, with so many people with kekkei genkai dying, Danzo would have his ninjas prioritize on steeling them. Be it from their their DNA to their eyes. The Uchiha's where especially targeted.

There was one time, Shisui held a dying 12 year old clan member in his arms. You could tell that the kid, was in pain from not just the fatal spinal wound, but from the fact that their eye sockets were empty. Shisui did his best to comfort and get information from the preteen.

'Who did this to you," he asked, gently.

" Danzo. Ambush. My team... dead," the child said.

That would be the last thing they ever said.

Shisui was never the same after that. He's always had a soft spot for kids, alway trying to lead fights away from civilian shelters or districts. When he worked with genius he'd often have them doing something away from the battle, like evacuation.

Now that a family member, who still had so much in life to experience, died in his arms: I could see that he activated his Mangekyō Sharingan.

I tried to reach out to him calm him down before he did something that would endanger not just himself but those who care for him. He ran off before I could do anything.

Now I'm here, running through the trees as fast as I could. I may not be the best sensor, but I am moderately good enough. It helps that I've worked closely with him, that I've grown familiar with his chakra.

It was easy to pinpoint at this point.

But by the time I had reached his location, his left eye had been bleeding, and was shut. Meanwhile, across the battle field was Danzo. Let's just say what lies under his bandages is no longer a secret.

Just as Danzo ran to deliver the finishing blow, likely wanting to get his hands on Shisui's right eye, I shunshined toward him. With my arms wrapping around his shoulders, I once more flicking away as far as I could. Once we were safe, I began the healing process of his eye.

"You do know what you just did was stupid, right," I informed him.

He said nothing in reply. I get he's probably feeling like shit right now, but he need to understand what his actions caused. What his actions cause me to feel in that time span.

"Shisui-,"

"I get it Sakura! I messed. I shouldn't have gone alone, but you don't get it. That was a family member, and tou saw what Danzo did with those eyes," he yelled, and honestly as much a I am sympathizing him, I am also slightly infuriated.

How dare he assume I don't know what it was like to loose someone I cared for deeply. Especially, since he knows what happened to my mother in the beginning of the war. Know how many patients I couldn't same after getting close to the.

My silence must of been enough for him to realize what he implied. I finished up healing the eye tissue, and covered it up as quickly as I could. I did not want to explode and say something that could ruin what ever our relationship is called.

"Sakura, I- I'm sorry I didn't mean for it to come out that way. I just," he said tailing off at the end, my was already to him at this point.

"Please, say something Sakura."

"You can be such a hero, you know that. You not only put yourself in danger, but you disregarded how it'd affect those around you.

How'd it affect me.

You could have died. You could have broken your promise you made me after my mom died. Do you know what that would have done to me," I informed him, finally turning back to look at him.

To hell with the fact that my eyes are tearing up. He needed to see what he caused me to feel.

Suddenly his arms where around me, in a tight hug. Wrapping my arms around his wait,I buried my face in the the crook of his neck.

"I am so sorry, Sakura. I promised I'd never leave you, and your right. I did almost break it, but it was thanks to you that I'm here. That danzo does not have my other eye,' he said, as he pulled away.

Hie gave me a smile, and placed two fingers against my forehead.

Maybe. Maybe I could not be angry with him right now. Perhaps, I should be happy that I can still hold him in my arms.

No matter how stupid he is, or how big of a jerk he is; he'll also be my stupid jerk that I love.

Plus, he'll be the one filling in Tsunade shishō on today's events. Not me.

@shisakuweek

#shisaku #shisakuweek2023 #shisaku week day 7 #shisaku week #“Who did this to you?”#sakura haruno #this was written at 2 am #please have mercy on me #almost forgot to post this

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rosetowersfanfic · 1 year

Text

Meet the family: it's just stuff

random drabble for a fic that i may or may not finish. Hunter breaks some plates and being Hunter he freaks out.

Hunter looked around the ornate kitchen as he tried to find something to do. After such a luxurious dinner, it only seemed right that he helped to clean up.

He spotted a pile of dishes stacked on a counter next to the door, ready to be brought over to the sink. Taking action, Hunter picked up the heavy load and attempted to make his way over so he could clean them; key word being "attempted". He must have walked two maybe three steps when the great weight of twelve people's worth of plates slipped from his grasp and crashed onto the tiled floor.

"No!" He panicked, and crouched down to try and clean up the shattered pieces in hopes it would pacify the anger this mistake would surely incur. All this accomplished was a cut in the palm of his hand as his eyes began to brim with tears.

"Hunter! Is everything okay?! I heard- oh!" Darius ran into the kitchen, and stopped dead when he saw Hunter knelt on the floor as he clutched his bleeding hand.

"Oh boy. Mom, we need some help in here!"

"Is everything alright- ah, I see," Althea noted calmly.

"Stand up, sweetflea," she told Hunter, who followed her order without question and let himself be lead to a stool.

Althea tsked when she took a closer look at the cut. "That went deep. What were you trying to do dear?" She asked as she drew a healing circle and had it hover over Hunter's hand.

"I-I was trying to clean up the-the p-plates. I'm really sorry-"

"Mm, next time use a broom, dear. I don't want you hurting yourself again." Althea finished the spell, the cut was disinfected and healing at a much faster pace, and summoned a bandage. As she tied it around Hunter's hand, Darius cleared away the broken plates and approached the pair.

"Are you okay?" Darius asked.

"Yeah. I'm really sorry, I just wanted to help clean up and they just slipped out of my hands."

"It's just stuff, Hunter. We're glad you're alright."

Hunter sniffed. "I know, but some of those plates looked like antiques, w-were they heirlooms?"

Althea smiled. "Before I answer that, can I ask you something?" At Hunter's nod she continued. "Do you know why none of those plates matched?"

Hunter shook his head. He'd vaguely noticed the odd mish-mash of patterns and colours on those plates, even the older, more valuable looking ones.

"That's because Granny and I had nine children. Nine rambunctious, clumsy, sweet little boys who wanted to help, or weren't paying attention, so they broke a lot of plates over the years." She and Darius shared a smile.

"By the time I was born, most of the heirlooms were broken by my brothers and replaced a dozen times over," Darius added.

"Especially by Nicolas. I love him, but I've seen him trip over air so many times," Althea shook her head with a fond smile.

"The fact is, we have a big family; it wasn't practical to keep those old plates locked away to collect dust. Kids break things, it's best to clean up and remind them to be a bit more careful."

"For example, you can ask someone to help clean up rather than do it all by yourself," Darius said.

Hunter nodded. "Okay, thanks Grandma, thanks Darius."

"Of course, dear. How's your hand?"

"Fine, it just stings a little."

"Oh, well we can't have that," Althea drew another spell circle directly over her lips, which then started to glow a soft blue. She brought Hunter's hand to her lips, and at their touch the lingering pain dissipated.

"Does that feel better?" She asked.

"Yeah," Hunter blinked in amazement,"yeah, it feels way better, thank you."

With that, they all walked out of the kitchen and headed to the living room.

#the owl house #hunter deamonne #darius deamonne #the deamonne family #althea and persephone #fanfiction #wasn't sure how to finish this but enjoy

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mickgaydolenz · 1 year

Note

im sorry if you dont believe in Shifting and find the story I'm about to tell you silly, but so far you're the only blog I think would care about this

so I've been a fan of the monkees since I was a little girl, and I've ALWAYS had those stars in my eyes for Micky, and I graduated High School the year all that Shifting stuff got popular, so I tried it out (it didn't work the first few times) and then, I shifted to The Big Bang Theory universe, and realized all the power I had with this!!! so I got to writing my script. how it went? well, I was the fifth member of the monkees. I was born 1944 and knew how to play lead guitar and drums. I was contacted for an interview about a tv show and got the part. I was the fifth monkee, and I had written down selfishly that Micky would fall for me...and we did. for each other. he was a great man,,, truly perfect. everything I thought he'd be and more....my life there was so long. I made the mistake of putting in my script that I wouldn't wake up till I died, and I had no safe word. I was in there till the monkees reunion tour in 1997 because I got in an accident-i'm pretty sure I didn't die though, all that happened was a car collision. I don't think that would've killed me. but I woke up and had the most painful, saddening, heart-wrenching realization that none of that was real. I had kids and friends and micky,,,and I had fallen into a depression that I couldn't even tell people about because I was acting like a widow!!! my roommate thought a family member died!!! I still haven't told anyone this, but I thought it'd be okay to share this with people on the internet through you. thank you for letting me share, yes, it still hurts.

first off, thank you so fucking much for sharing this with me, i truly am honoured that i was the blog you thought of to share this with.

secondly, whether i believe in shifting or not, i can definitely see that this was super huge and important to you, and it has had a very real impact on your life. and for good reason! this is so fascinating, and so heartbreaking man, what an intense experience! i can’t even imagine what it would feel like to essentially live out a dream life only to wake up and realize it hadn’t actually happened. i hope you are doing okay, and i hope sharing this has maybe helped you to heal a little!!

#honestly thank you though this was super interesting to read!!#rhubarb asks #the monkees #micky dolenz

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imtryingmybeskar · 2 years

Text

Okay so this is a week late and I am sorry. But I hope you're all ready for a little light spiciness as well as some weird stuff! I tend to dream very vividly and sometimes I open my eyes before I've finished and let me tell you it's trippy.

Warnings for lots and lots of kissing, sexual touching and flirting. Words 6.5k.

I have also had Dieter-as-Ezra in my head for ✨the look✨ I am thinking of for him right now.

Starman

Chapter Thirteen

Earthling

He wasn't there.

The vision of her dreams bled into reality as she surfaced to wakefulness, her eyes open before her mind was truly re-engaged with reality. She stared upward, through the small loft window at the powder blue sky and her brain projected a vision on to its backdrop - a familliar craft streaking white hot and far away across its face. She tried to form Ezra's name, a terrible imagining gripping her heart that he had gone home...wherever home was for him. The blazing trail of the engines pulsated, throbbed to orange and then pink before lazily rearranging themselves into nothing more than clouds. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her brain of vision-fed dreaming.

Her arm reached lazily across the bed as she struggled to take control of her unresponsive muscles and she passed her hand clumsily over the mattress, searching for the tether of him.

A panic washed icy cold into her stomach. He had gone. Somehow he had left and she would never see him again, never-

Ben...Where was Ben?

The sound of running water came from her en-suite and she exhaled a breath she had not realised she had been holding. Now that she was almost fully awake, she could see the haloed light around the door too. He hadn't left, he just wasn't next to her at this precise moment.

She turned heavily on to her back, her body still catching up to the fact that her brain was cognizant, and she looked over at the window, the pale barrier of the curtains not quite enough to stop dawn's creeping golden light from catching at its left side. It looked like it would be another beautiful day, hopefully not one punctuated at the end by yet another storm. They always came with increasing frequency at this time of year, and while she took pleasure in them, she didn't like the thought of Ben being too stressed out.

She sat up sleepily and looked toward his basket. It was empty. He wasn't nestled at the end of the bed anymore either so he must have gone downstairs. She imagined that the strange events of the past few days had made him bold enough to not bother waiting for an invitation to make himself comfortable on the sofa, and at this early hour he could do so without anyone else occupying it and could stretch out fully. She smiled at the thought of his head resting on one of the pillows and his paws hanging off the side of the sofa cushions as she flopped back down on to the bed and began to mentally plan the day.

They would take Ben for a walk, and when they had got back and had breakfast she would ask Ezra if he had managed to programme any French into the translator. She didn't know where she was hoping that particular avenue to lead, only that her curiosity was flaring at the thought that there might be some sort of a connection. And that if French was a more readily recognisable language to him could they muddle through verbal communication that way? Her French was merely passable, not up to any kind of proper conversational standard, so she also wanted to broach trying to teach him English if she could. With the written translator along with the books she had ordered they might stand a chance of being able to communicate directly at some point.

But most of all, she realised, she wanted to give him a break today. He had poured out so much of himself last night - so much pain and torment, speaking of wounds that seemed not to have fully healed - and she didn't want him to relive too much all at once. Though perhaps he would want it over and done with, she mused, and she was suddenly unsure what to do for the best.

The bathroom door opened and the light extinguished to reveal Ezra against the blackness of the doorway - sleep rumpled and creased and somehow all the more beautiful for it in the dawn's pale light. He smiled at her and whispered something sibilant that translated to "Good morning," on the screen beside the bed.

"Morning," she mumbled back sleepily, still not entirely awake even now.

He crossed the small space between them and put one knee on the bed, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. His scent wafted down to her, woody and musky and full of comfort, and without truly thinking about what she was doing she tilted her face up to him whilst her hands came to cup the scruff at his jaw, directing his lips where she most wanted them to go.

He hummed into the kiss, a noise of both satisfaction and desire rolled together and before she had time to be paranoid about morning breath or how she looked or even to wonder if this was a good idea at all, she found her hands roving his body, one down the coiled strength in his tricep as he braced his arm beside her and the other over the planes of his back. She tugged him gently down so that his upper half was lying on top of her, and even though he seemed a little startled by her movements judging by the small noise he made as he half fell on her, and even though his positioning was crushing the breath from her body slightly, neither of them were inclined to break the kiss.

She opened herself to him with a moan, loving the feeling of being pinned by his weight, wanting more of everything about him. Their kisses grew hotter, more frantic - teeth grazing over lips and tongues tangling with each other. She moved over his cheek, over the scruff at his jaw and bit gently at his ear lobe and then down, mouthing softly at the pulse point in his neck.

Only his top half was touching her, but from the way his groan caught deep in his chest and his hips canted forward to grind himself into the mattress it wasn't too difficult to tell the effects he was feeling too. She moved her lips and tongue over his neck, absorbing the musky salt taste of his warm skin and the joy at feeling the thrum of his pulse against her before moving up over his chin, her lips working tenderly over his bones and skin and muscle and hair until she was at the plump softness of his cupid's bow again, demanding he open himself to her and plundering his mouth when he did.

She stuttered, stopped for breath and drew back to look at him. His eyes were black in the dimness of the room, a vortex capturing her and dragging her into their wonderous depths.

"I," she breathed, pointing at herself. "Love," she confessed, looking into his eyes as she held her hand over her heart and then over his, feeling how they thrummed wildly in their chests. "You," she smiled, bopping him gently on the nose with her index finger and punctuating her sentence with a kiss.

"I love you," she whispered, the words ascending from her heart to her lips with no input from her thoughts. "I love you," she repeated, doubling down on the truth of her feelings, confirming them to herself as much as to him.

He looked at her wonderingly, questioningly, but as if he had a modicum of understanding of the meaning of her words. He glanced up, looking toward the translator, but she cupped his jaw in her hands and brought his attention back to her.

He returned her grin cheekily, his beautiful dimple catching her attention etched as it was so deeply into his cheek with his evident joy. "Ah," he repeated, pointing at himself. "Love", he echoed, the "o" sounding like it was merged with a "u" and running softly into the "v" as he touched his own chest over his heart. "You," he whispered, his hand hovering over her chest, his hesitancy to touch her more intimately clear even as he stroked the skin over her heart, the pads of his fingers stroking delicately over the swell of her breast. "I love you," he repeated, the words somehow sounding like they were flavoured with a soft Louisiana twang. He glanced back up to the translator and read his own language from the screen, confirming what she suspected he already knew. His eyes softened as he brought his gaze back to her and he bent his head once more to claim her lips with his.

She wanted more.

Needing there to be absolutely no ambiguity about her desire, she placed her hand on the back of his own and guided him downward from the space above her heart to rest over her breast, squeezing him so that he squeezed her in turn. He breathed a word as she did and she didn't need to read the translator to know it was some kind of curse. She lunged for his lips again, kissing him greedily, messily, as his hand massaged her breast, his thick, strong fingers plucking at the thin material of her t-shirt and catching her nipple so that she gasped into his mouth. He smiled softly against her lips and plucked again, more insistently, running his thumb over the hardened bud and matching her moans with hungry ones of his own. Clearly, here was a similarity between their peoples. He knew exactly what he was doing and she clenched her thighs together, feeling the wetness already gathering between them and wanting some relief from the delicious tension he was teasing from her body.

He noticed.

She couldn't help it, she giggled and squirmed away from his touch. He immediately drew back, a worried, questioning look on his face. "It's ok," she smiled. "It just...tickles there a little."

He swiped his thumb over her nipple a few more times before slowly trailing his hand down her torso, drawing back a little to look at her with a clear question in his eyes. "Is this okay?" She nodded desperately as she chased his mouth and crashed her lips against his and pulled him on top of her once more.

She never wanted him to stop, never wanted his hand or his lips or his body to leave hers. A blazing of desire filled her entirely, left her bereft of any thoughts except "Ezra".

His fingers dragged down over her t-shirt, his warmth permeating the fabric and she whined, arching her back into his touch. As her shirt rode up and his skin met hers, his fingertips left fire and desperate longing in their wake. The electrical connection that she had previously felt and now understood thanks to him was fully present and buzzing wildly across the skin of her stomach, matching the flaring heat that was sparking within.

His hand travelled lower, slowly, oh so slowly, until her hips were also bucking slightly, canting upward in anticipation of him being between her legs and providing the relief she so desperately craved. Down he travelled until he reached the waistband of her leggings where he traced a lazy finger over the seam of where the fabric met her stomach. It was good, so good - the anticipation, the longing. But...but...

He looked actively puzzled now and knelt up again to grab the translator from the bedside table.

"I don't understand. Are you alright?" came the message after he had spoken.

Now it was her turn to be bemused. What was there not to understand? "Nothing's wrong," she clarified. "Just when you touch my stomach it tickles."

He looked at the translation and frowned, then turned it back to her as he replied. "That last word. There's no translation for it. It just...doesn't know."

She leant up on her elbows, an incredulous look on her face. "Your people aren't ticklish? Or...maybe its just such a weird word the translator doesn't get it. Okay, I'm going to ask you to do something strange now and I need you to trust me. Lift your arm above your head?"

As the translation appeared, she saw his face pass from puzzlement to amused acceptance. He propped the translator against his knees and lifted his arm up as she had requested. She knelt up next to him and giggled with childish glee as she softly tickled his armpit. Ezra did not respond except to look at her with fond disbelief. She moved her fingers down his torso, over his side and stomach in case that would elicit the reaction she had hoped. It did not. She gently tugged at his arm to bring it down and picked up the translator as he spoke, amusement still clear in his tone.

"What in [translation unavailable] high heaven was that all about?" She thought for a moment. How to explain something so banal and yet so specific? He spoke again before she could try. "And what happens if I were to attempt a similar venture?"

"I would probably make some sort of noise and then laugh and try to get away. Its a...sensation. When you touch some people in certain areas of their body it feels such a way that it makes you laugh."

"Does it feel...good?" It was a loaded question. She could tell by the way his eyes darkened, even though the room was fairly light at this point.

"Sort of. But not in a sexual way. At least not for me. And sometimes its too intense. I...I'm not sure how to explain it to be honest. But if you touch me here, and I flinch away its not you. its because I'm ticklish there."

"Tick-ell-ish," he repeated thoughtfully, weighing the syllables in his mouth. "How do you wash yourself with such a response?"

"Oh it doesn't work if you do it to yourself. Something to do with your brain being able to predict your movements. You need some element of surprise with it I think."

He grinned evilly and she just had time to read the words "Like this?" when his hand shot out and he lightly swiped over her stomach making her drop the pad on to the bed and squeak with surprise as she squirmed away.

"Yes like that!" she huffed prissily as she moved back to sit against the headboard. He laughed out loud and it was such a joyous, beautiful sound that she found herself enraptured by the moment, noting the tiny details of the crinkles at the side of his eyes, the sparkle within them, his beautifully even teeth, the way his beard didn't seem to grow either side of his chin. "No abusing that knowledge," she warned, holding out a lecturing finger.

He caught it in his hand and kissed the tip of it. "No promises, little bird," he replied. "That noise you made just now was just too adorable not to elicit again." He looked down at her stomach and she prepared herself to squirm away if he reached for her again. "May I ask you - and I hope this isn't impertinent of me - what is that?"

She looked down at where he was pointing. "My belly button? No, its not rude to ask. I had questions of my own about why you don't have one if I'm honest."

"Buh...bee...behl," he began.

"Belly button," she enunciated. "Or navel. But most people call it a belly button. All I would say is don't stick your finger in it. There's a little creature that lives inside and he gets mean if you wake him. He might bite."

Ezra's eyes grew wide as saucers and a faint look of horror passed over his face before he regained control of himself. "I...promise I will not go near your...belleee buddon"

She giggled softly and stroked his cheek lovingly. "I'm joking, Ezra. There's no little creature. But it does feel weird if you poke it so please don't."

"[translation unavailable] breath! Don't scare me like that!" His relieved grin told her that he was not truly cross with her. "So...what is your belleee buddon for?"

"There's a cord that connects you to the placenta when you're in the womb. It passes nutrients and oxygen to the baby. When you're born you don't need it anymore so the cord is cut and the little bit that is left drops off after a few weeks and you're left with a scar. Everyone's looks a little different."

His eyes grew round again and he sat back on his haunches, excitement in his face. "I have something comparable. Do you recall I told you about the markings on my back?" She nodded and he continued. "These markings are from a similar method of in utero life support. May I show you?" She nodded again, more eagerly this time, both from curiosity at exploring their differences and a desire to see his body again now that she was more comfortable.

He cleared his throat pointedly and her eyes raised back to his, totally unashamed of her ogling. A small smirk played about one side of his mouth, the pleasure he took in having her so clearly attracted to him plain to see. Wordlessly he turned on the bed so his back was now facing her and she inhaled a breath of wonder.

He grabbed the t shirt that she had lent him at the hem and pulled it over his head with a grace and competency she didn't think she herself could have mustered with one arm. A waft of his sleepy, warm, musky scent washed over her as he shed his top and it made her want to bury her face in the crook of his neck to fill herself with more of it. She allowed her eyes to rove down his body, openly approving of what she saw.

Even in the short time he had been here, he had started to fill out a little more and looked less starved than he previously had. His neck was muscular yet graceful and led into shoulders that seemed incredibly broad comparative to what she could see of his small waist. The dips in his clavicle were begging for her tongue to pass over them and she wet her lower lip in an unconscious response. He was pretty hairless, except for a ring of darkness around his nipples and the smattering over his stomach that grew thicker the lower her gaze drifted. She wanted to run her tongue over every inch of him - taste him, make him sweat above her, map him with her lips...

His back was beautiful anyway, the smooth skin stretched gorgeously over muscles that she now knew had been built up by hard labour. He looked strong and she felt herself clench around nothing as she tried to shift her focus from her desire and concentrate on the fascinating sight in front of her. On either side of the central dip of his backbone he had two patches of markings, one above the other with a space between them. Taken together, these four sets of markings made a wide zig-zag formation surrounding his spine. Each marking looked a little like a tattoo - a central dot slightly smaller than a penny and surrounded by seven other even smaller dots in an even spacing. They matched the colour of the markings on his arm in that they were a polished silvery blue colour. She reached a curious finger out and then halted.

"Can I touch them?" she asked, passing the translator over his shoulder so he could look at it. He took it, read her words and nodded before passing a message of his own.

"They had never quickened before I met you, much as the ones on my arm had not. But I felt them so clearly the first time we ever touched that there can be no doubt in my mind that you did indeed bring them to life. I feel I must warn you that there is yet another element to my back that I must assume your people do not share with mine. Occasionally when I am...deep in pleasure it will glow. Please do not be alarmed if it does. My back has only ever been touched when the markings were dormant and I can not conceive of what the effect will be when you touch them, my life. I hope you can forgive any...indiscretions on the part of my body. They are involuntary."

She moved closer, shuffled up behind him to slide her hands around his waist, revelling in the pure and simple closeness of their beings - the heat of his body and the softness of his skin beneath her fingers and the stifled groan he gave as he felt her behind him. She rested her chin on his shoulder the better to whisper softly in his ear. "Never apologise for that, Ezra." The stuttering exhalation he gave as she nipped at his earlobe while he read her words made her grin wickedly behind him and she could not resist trailing her lips softly down from the back of his ear, over his neck and to the broad, tensed muscle of his shoulder and upper back. He was just so beautiful, and she lost herself for a moment in the sheer bliss of being able to pull him close, fill her senses with him, relish the softness he inspired in her heart and the absence of anything except for thoughts of him filling her mind.

A flickering light caught her eye and she drew back to look at what her kisses had wrought upon him. Unlike the markings on his arm which rippled and undulated a soft rainbow across his skin, these reminded her of nothing so much as LEDs, their lights sharp and focused, and completely on the blue/purple spectrum of colours as far as she could tell. They waxed and waned, glowing and receding as she watched until they faded again into darkness and she realised it was because she and he were no longer touching each other. She delicately swirled a finger over the topmost central dot and it glowed white, the brightness catching and cascading through the other markings until they all gently simmered to an electric blue. Before they could fade completely again, she traced the circle surrounding the central dot and watched with fascination as it seemed to visually heat white hot and then begin to settle and fade to a purpling luminosity again.

She was so wrapped up in what she was doing that she didn't hear Ezra's attempts to get her attention until he let out a choked groan of "Vievay!" and held up the translator so she could see what he was saying.

"My life...your touch...it is intoxicating. The most divine. [Translation unavailable] forfend, I have never felt anything such as..." His voice trailed off into a bitten off whimper as she traced a delicate finger up one side of his back, flaring his markings once again. "I do not want you to stop. Ever," he continued. "But I fear I must ask you to do just that."

She immediately ceased, sitting back on her heels and being careful not to touch his bare skin. "Are you okay?" she asked, concerned that he was once again being overwhelmed in a different way after she had promised herself that she would make his life easier today.

"I am just fine," he replied, and she heard the truthful, playful mirth in his tone. "But I am also very aware that we are still only just becoming acquainted and...well...the aforementioned involuntary reactions..."

He trailed off and she leaned forward again, careful not to touch him but close enough that she could feel the shiver that passed through him when she murmured next to his ear. "If it was the same kind of involuntary reaction that occurred in the kitchen yesterday morning, then it seems our peoples have that in common too. But I want you to feel comfortable Ezra, to be certain of anything that we enter into-"

He shifted a quarter turn on the bed so he could face her, his big, dark eyes looking up at her earnestly. From her peripheral vision she could see how the front of his trousers were tented enormously and another zing of desire went through her at the thought of him so aroused and so near to her. "I want to be close with you. In every conceivable way it can be possible to be close to someone. I have never been more certain of anything in my life." She gave a shy half smile at his unpretentious, unembellished declarations and he seized her hand and kissed her knuckles. "But I also want to finish telling you what happened to me before we continue down this avenue," he added. "I have never shared this story with anyone so completely and I want to bare myself to you, to start our time together in complete honesty. I am a killer and a thief and a liar. Or I was. And I need you to know, to understand. So that you can make an informed decision regarding any future there may be between us."

She nodded and squeezed his hand. "I understand," she replied. "And I do want to hear everything you have to tell me. I stand by what I said though. Nothing you have told me thus far has changed my feelings toward you. And I think after last night you deserve a reprieve, however small. Lets take Ben out and then we can decide what to do with our day. We have time. For everything." She kissed his hand in much the same way as he had hers and saw the sparkle of the beginnings of tears in his eyes.

None were shed, instead he gave a shaky little laugh and said in halting English, "B-ben? Dog?"

She nodded with a laugh of her own. "His species is dog. His name is Ben. But if he responds to you calling him Dog, who am I to stand in the way?"

He laughed again, sounding more himself again and slid his arm around her waist and up her back to draw her to him and envelop her in a hug. "I...love you," he whispered into her hair as he rested his cheek on her shoulder. "I love you."

The sea breeze was crisp and clean and not quite enough to mask the heat that was already seeping into the air despite the early hour. It was going to be a beautiful day, and she was grateful that they had come out early enough that they had the beach all to themselves. Ben led the way, zigzagging across the sand from rocks to shore to splashing madly through the smallest waves and back again. Ezra's hand was entwined with hers and the sound of his laughter at Ben's antics sparked her own unstoppable smile. Joy in such simplicity had always come easily to her, even when all else was dark and gloomy, but the addition of Ezra made everything about this moment shine just that much brighter, made the colours deeper and the sounds sharper. She pressed her cheek against his upper arm as they strolled, their footsteps in tandem across the beach and he let go of her hand in favour of sliding his across her lower back and around her waist to hold her closer to him. She reciprocated, feeling the muscles of his back and dropping down to admire the swell of his backside. He hummed an appreciative noise and stopped to kiss her, the thrum of the wind against her face and the swirl of the sea in her ears receding into nothingness in the overwhelming immensity of the feeling of his lips on hers. His fingers traced down the planes of her own back until he was caressing her too, grabbing her firmly and pressing himself against her so that she could feel the beginnings of his own desire

In the distance, she dimly registered that Ben began to bark. It took a few seconds for the sound to percolate through the haze of increasing lust that was building between them, but when it did she recognised it as one of the warning sounds she had heard from him more frequently over the past few days. She broke the kiss and looked around to see where he was. Ezra looked a little confused until she took the translator from the bag she had brought. "Sorry, but can we go and find Ben? He's barking and I think something's up?" He read it and nodded, a determined look falling across his handsome face.

They followed the sound of Ben's worry until they came to the cave where this strange journey had started for her just a couple of days ago. Next to her Ezra exhaled a word that did not translate and immediately ran over to where the little dog stood. Confused she followed, doing her best to avoid the puddles of sea water dotted around here and there that Ezra ran through without a second thought. She reached the man and dog and finally saw what all the fuss was about.

Ben was standing next to what looked like part of a large black egg, its edges jagged and broken as if a giant creature had hatched from within and wandered down the beach. Ezra turned to her, slightly wild eyed and his voice was low and desperate when he spoke. "I believe this is part of the craft that was contained within the cave. The hull exterior if I am not much mistaken. I had given some thought as to what we should do with it, given that its discovery would be an undesirable outcome, and had hoped that perhaps we could deconstruct and dispose of it ourselves over a period of time. It seems that we do not have the luxury of said time anymore."

She gaped at him, her mind catching up with the implications of what he was telling her. "Will...will it be harmful?" she asked, finally vocalising some of the fears that had swarmed her mind the first day she had seen the craft. "I mean, the radiation that it might have picked up out there. Will it be harmful to us? Or to the ocean?"

He shook his head. "I have no answer to that, little bird. The phenomenon that brought me to you is as unknown to me and my people as it presumably is to you and yours. I do not know what this craft journeyed through to get here. But there is a positive within all of this. While this material is synthetic, it is still designed to degrade and decompose after use. The company that made these escape pods could make more money that way under the guise of reducing space waste. Perhaps this design combined with last night's storm was enough to begin its breakup. Regardless, we should collect what we can to minimise disruption to your own ecosystems."

Two and a half hours later she and Ezra were sprawled on a pile of rocks warmed by the sun, sweaty and a little breathless and drinking water from bottles. She gently poured some out for Ben too, who had been most helpful in assisting them with finding bits and pieces that their own dulled senses would have missed. He lapped at the stream of water gratefully before plopping himself down on the rock between them, also happy to be taking a break.

When they had initially entered the cave by the light of the torch on her phone Ezra had made a noise of dismay at the sight. The craft appeared to have been caught by the violently high tide of the previous night's storm and smashed repeatedly against the inside of the cave. Twisted metal, bits of circuitry, upholstery, more of the strange black material that the hull was crafted from - all were strewn across the wet, sandy floor. The craft itself was still partially intact underneath and Ezra scrambled inside to examine it, the stepladder no longer necessary owing to the top half having been ripped away. He had emerged a few moments later with a wide grin on his face and a large and complicated looking panel full of wires and dials clutched to his chest.

"The remainder of the communication equipment," he had ventured in response to her questioning look. "When we came here last I sent a message to someone very dear to me - perhaps the only person I truly care about in this universe apart from you. I have no way of knowing how long such a message would take to get to her, nor if it would ever even be received. But I had to try. And I am relieved that the comms array is not too damaged and not waterlogged. I may be able to rig something up with your assistance."

She nodded. "Of course," she replied and then paused, wanting to ask who he had tried to communicate with but not wanting to seem like she was prying, or even jealous. He seemed to understand her dilemma and spoke again, more softly this time.

"I will tell you all about her in due course, my love. I promise. Her name is Cee and I...we...she was good to me. Taught me a lot about myself. Saved my life when she took my arm, though admittedly it was her fault that my arm was injured at all. I hold she is the closest thing I have ever had to a child, though sometimes I wonder which one of us truly took on the role of parent the day we met."

"I suppose its only to be expected given that I'm only just getting to know you, but I can't imagine you as a father," she smiled. "Though you are very good with Ben," she added as an afterthought. The little dog wuffed happily at the sound of his name and trotted out from the shadows at the back of the cave, tail wagging and with what looked like an extremely sodden pillowcase in his mouth. "He's doing better than us at clearing up," she said with amusement. "Shall we?"

They ferried the larger items back to the cottage first, managing to avoid any curious gazes as they did. By the time they had started to gather up the smaller items a few others had come for their morning walk beside the sea too, but they paid little attention to two people and a dog who looked like they were doing nothing more than clearing the beach of rubbish. The one sticking point was the very bottom of the craft, which was now buried so deeply in wet, cement-like sand that it was impossible to move. Still, they took everything they could break off and left the husk, hoping that it would be covered over more fully in time. Even her untrained eye could tell that what they had managed to salvage from the cave couldn't possibly be the entirety of what had been contained within the pod, and she had to conclude that at least some of it had been carried out to sea overnight. She tried to put it from her mind. There really was nothing else they could do. She just hoped that nothing incriminating or strange would wash up anywhere and that it would all decompose safely the way Ezra seemed to think it would.

She looked over at him lounging next to her on the rock, the sunglasses she had lent him winking in the sun as he stared out over the deep blue of the ocean. His skin seemed to glow in the sunshine, a tiny sheen of sweat exacerbating the illusion. She studied his profile - that beautifully prominent nose over those full, pouty lips, the patches in his beard that she wanted to kiss and never stop kissing, the softness of his white curls shivering in the breeze. He seemed to feel her gaze on him and grinned widely as he turned his attention to her.

"What are you thinking?" he enquired.

"I'm thinking about how gorgeous you are," she confessed, revelling in the way his head dropped a little in shy acceptance of the compliment before he turned the dazzling beam of his smile on to her again. "And that I guess you truly are stuck with me for good now." The reality of that statement hit her at the same time as she said it and it added a little inflection of surprise into the sentence. Ezra sat up more fully and took her hand in his, rubbing his cheek over her knuckles like a cat and kissing her fingers.

"[translation unavailable] willing, my love. If I could stay with you all of my days I would surely be the happiest man in this world or that. The happiest man in the whole galaxy, in the entire universe." He peered at her over the top of the borrowed shades and continued in a low tone. "Let us return to your home. I should finish my story."

"You don't have to do that today. Take your time. I don't want you to feel upset-" she began, but he shook his head.

"I should be more clear. I wish to finish my tale as soon as I am able," he clarified. He shuffled forward on the rock until her shoulder was rubbing against the broadness of his chest, and he whispered into her ear, his voice giving her delicious chills as much as the translation appearing on the screen on her lap. "I do not want to be without you a single night more. This morning was...wonderful. But I wish to do so much more with you. I want to give you so much pleasure. To see your eyes as I do and to hear my name from your beautiful lips." He punctuated his devotions by kissing over the shell of her ear and down the softness of her neck and she bit back a moan only semi successfully. "Am I a fool to hope that you wish the same?" he murmured.

She couldn't seem to take a breath in. The overt desire for her that he was displaying was giving her goosepimples all over despite the sun. She could feel her own heat between her legs, but being in such a public place she resisted grinding her thighs together for relief. Instead she stood and offered her hand and two simple words that made Ezra grin more cheekily than she had ever seen him before, rendering her legs even more jellylike in the face of his handsome smugness.

"Home. Now."

Next chapter

#starman ezra #ezra x ofc #ezra prospect x ofc #ezra prospect fluff #ezra prospect angst #ezra prospect smut #ezra prospect fanfic #ezra prospect fanfiction

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makingspiritualityreal · 2 years

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Parental wound healing Trauma Processing.

Something that I feel is not talked about enough is the practical side effect of experiencing irreversible loss as a result of trauma. This is something I've been battling with my whole life, due to lack of a parental influence. It's very painful to talk about, and it took me years to be present with the feeling fully, because existing with it every day is so bad makes me want to not be alive at all, just so that I don't have to experience it.

I've been ashamed of it in the past, thinking that talking about it would make me look weak and show how desperately life has actually starved me. I used to think I shouldn't show how this has hurt me, that it would lead to me being mocked and called weak. That it's something I should hide, because I was raised to feel like it's my fault that I'm experiencing this pain. But as much as I'm in pain right now and have been all along, I'm also angry, very angry with people who put me in these situations. I realise the original wound is parental, and everything else after is a mirror...but just because I'm aware of my own mirrored wounds, it doesn't absolve anyone involved from their behaviour, parent or not.

My parents separated when I was 2. My father was greatly upset with my mother for moving back in with her parents and taking me to another town, thus making it more difficult for him to see me. Still, it was unavoidable, as their relationship wasn't working despite their attempts at fixing it. Technically, the distance wasn't bad enough for me to be inaccessible, just a couple of hours of a car ride, but to my father it was an emotional blow. Because of his poor emotional processing and his earlier wounds, he locked himself away, and as a result, ignored me completely for the next 6 years.

That put me in a difficult spot. I was raised by my mom, who made a considerable effort to love me as much as she could on her own, but I suffered a poor emotional background of my father being so self-centred and locked away in his mistakes, he didn't consider my own needs at all. There are plenty of kids, who go through parents separating that don't end up in such a tough spot. My father however, was always strictly selfish, ultimately not doing right by anything or anyone in the process. My mom never remarried, which left me bereft of any male influence or care from a father figure growing up.

This started a chain of events in a story, where I couldn't win, no matter what I did. After my parents separated, my mother encouraged me to send postcards to my father on special occasions, despite the bad blood between them. She wanted me to have an opportunity to have contact with the other parent. My father ignored all of my attempts at contact, and only contacted me years later at his convenience, without apologising for being absent this entire time.

Then, as we would meet during summer vacations, the other aspect of the abuse started, as he would only approve of me as much as I tried to fit into his agenda to move back abroad with him, in order for him to forget the mistakes of his past. Naturally, being only a child, I refused to be moved back abroad to my birthplace, only to fit his selfish means, which was wrong in the first place. Seeing, that he can't manipulate me to change his mind, he set out to start a new family, completely side-lining me. He had a new wife, a new daughter, and if he was neglecting me 99% before, at this point he was neglecting me a 120%.

There was nothing I had to gain for myself from this relationship, so at some point, after a particularly angry fight, which took place when I was already an adult, I cut off contact. Which we still haven't really resumed since.

My father's new relationship ultimately didn't work, as currently both my little sister and his recent ex try to milk him for all his money, which my mother never did out of kindness, and they both don't care for him one bit emotionally either. When we met a few months ago, he told me he should have treated me better and invested in me more...only now I'm almost 30, and for me it is too late.

I could be angry with him. I could be angry that such a fractured childhood results in me manifesting either no men at all, or selfish, blind people who mistreat my emotions. But for the most part, I'm devastated. Because while I cut contact off with him, he went on to distract himself with his new faux family, that didn't really make him happy...and completely skipped over the fact, that I needed to have a father. That I needed to have a model for a man in my life. That while he had a new family, as fake as it was, I had no one, and still don't, all these years later. There was no way for him to see my suffering, because he didn't want to look at it. He would tell me, that life is tough and I should grow up, because no one would care about how I feel. But in reality, it meant he didn't care enough how I feel to treat me well. He didn't want to look at his mistakes, because he didn't want to face himself.

At the end of the day, understanding all that doesn't make anything better for me. Because I still didn't get anything for myself. Because I still don't feel any relief. Because as much as I managed to work through feeling responsible for this situation, when it was the fault for my father's mistakes, I am still neglected, skipped over, uncared for. My well being was still sacrificed, just so that someone else could be dumb about their life choices, that only brought losses to all parties involved. I couldn't have done anything. I am helpless and powerless to other people's bad decisions, alone with the problem, still unloved. I might have had removed the element of trying too hard for a toxic parent, that doesn't reciprocate, but I'm still left with the pain so strong I don't even want to exist. Worst of all is knowing nobody will care, nobody will look at me or my needs or how I'm doing. Nobody will make this situation right. There is no hope for me to receive what I need or get better, to get what is owed to me in any form. No anger is going to solve this for me. No effort on my part is going to improve this situation. I am at the mercy of fate, and mistakes of people with a lower level of compassion and no care for my suffering, with no possibility of creating anything healthier in my life.

#personal

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hollowfaith · 3 months

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Princess Laetitia Poppaea Genevieve Eryngium II - Human

"A king of the monkeys? I've never heard of that before!"

"So if he's your uhm, teacher, does that make you a Monkey Prince?"

Halfway through leading her new friend into the palace's flower gardens, the young princess stops at the revelation to look at Qi Xiaotian with fresh new eyes.

"Hm, it seems to fit! You're taller than me for one, and you're strong enough to scare off those bad doggies that were bothering me before. But do you know how to dance?"

Before the other can answer, she's already pulling him towards the plaza in front of the fountain.

"I'll teach you the steps of the Erygnium Waltz! Then we can surprise mother and father and Mr. Angel at my birthday ball tonight! Oh, did I tell you about Mr. Angel yet? He saved my life too! And um, did you say your name was Shaoten? Mine's too long, so just call me Poppy, okay? It's what my favorite nursemaid uses!"

—

On the eve of her 11th birthday, Princess Laetitia of the Erygnium Kingdom was attacked by a demon. Fortunately, she was saved in time by Aurelius, who was passing by on a whim to look at the nation's beloved star holly flowers. The grateful king and queen, who had only heard of angels but rarely saw one in the flesh, managed to express their thanks and convince him to stay for their daughter's special birthday ball the next evening.

There, Laetitia (more commonly known as "Poppy" by her family) got to dance her first dance with the angel who saved her life. He was the most perfect being she'd ever seen; certainly none of the princes from the other kingdoms could compare. Aurelius left after the ball that night, but even his departure was a splendid sight: flying away on golden wings to a realm beyond the silvery moon in the sky.

The memory of that evening stuck with Laetitia as she grew up. Eventually she was old enough to accept suitors of her own, but none of them could quite reach the standards of the angel from her childhood. Neither did the angel show his face after that incident, and the thought of living her life without ever seeing him again made her despair.

But then a new demon war broke out.

As was tradition with human kingdoms, the king and queen led their people in prayer to support the angels fighting for their sake. In the midst of her own, Laetitia allowed a single selfish wish to blossom: that she might see Aurelius again. Although it was an innocent enough thought, the desire behind it was so strong that it attracted the attention of demons who preyed on her weakness. They succeeded in luring the princess out of the castle with an illusion of her angel telling her to meet him, and very well might've tricked her off a cliff if it wasn't for Aurelius coming by to catch her as she fell. Coincidence or not, the rift to the demon world had opened up on the very border of Eryngium lands.

Seven years had passed since their last meeting—what felt like a lifetime to her but a blink of an eye to him. In fact, Aurelius didn't even remember her as the little princess he'd indulged as a child. Wanting to make sure this wasn't a dream, Laetitia reached out to cup Aurelius' face—

—and promptly got her hand cut off.

She had been holding hands with the demon who tricked her to the cliff, and its essence had rotted through her fingers so that the flesh had started to decay. There was no pain when the limb was severed, and in fact Aurelius regenerated her a very nice new hand as soon as he was done, but it was still a jarring experience. Having returned her to her parents, Aurelius left again to fight the demons without ever giving her a chance to speak.

She had seen him like she desired, but it only made her want to see him more.

A week later, the hand he healed began to lose feeling in its fingers. Skin flaked off in patches, the nails darkened, and slowly, it began to rot again. Alarmed, Laetitia tried to hide the changes with gloves, then with feigning an injury, but was eventually found out. Her horrified parents appealed to the healers, then the angels for help (fortunately, it was easier to encounter them during a war) and eventually, called Aurelius back again.

For Laetitia, it was a secret thrill just to see him for the third time. After all, he hadn't aged an iota since they first met, and looked even more dazzling with his battle spear and battle regalia. He examined her hand, healed her injuries, and said that nothing was wrong on his part since the initial cure. The king and queen hardly believed it, but didn't dare refute him. They saw him off quietly.

Three days later, Laetitia's hand began to show signs of abnormality again. This time she was caught instantly, her parents having kept an eye on her the first time. When they began to fret, she only smiled at them and said not to worry, because Aurelius could cut off this hand if it turned too bad and grow her another one again. Her flippancy, however, only horrified them more.

Although their daughter had been seduced by a demon before, they only knew this based on Aurelius' words. Now they were starting to wonder whether the angel himself was suspect. If he was as holy as he claimed, then why couldn't he heal something as simple as a curse or injury?

Laetitia disagreed. She insisted on calling for her angel again, and the queen and king once again passed on the message through the celestial ranks until it reached their general at the front.

Aurelius was noticeably less patient when he showed up for the fourth time. It was no joke to deal with demons and their battle was reaching the crucial point—how dare they summon him on a whim using the ancient agreement between kings and Heaven? In response, the king and queen demanded he fix Laetitia's hand for good. She was wearing it in bandages, but as soon as she caught the angel's eye, she eagerly undid them to show him her disfigured limb.

But Aurelius' gaze swept past her to her parents, unimpressed. "Your daughter has lost herself to delusions and is feeding those desires herself. Even if I eliminated the demon for her the first three times, what is the use if she hasn't killed the demon in her heart? This will be the last time." With that ominous sentence, he cured her once more and left.

Alas, his actual warning fell on deaf ears. For the king and queen only heard him accuse their daughter of hosting a demon without wondering what sort of thoughts could have taken root in her heart in the first place. They treated Aurelius coldly and apologized for taking up his time, then asked him politely to leave. The queen, a sensitive soul, did pause to ask her daughter that evening, but what do you think of that angel's words?

To which Laetitia replied with a smile, "I didn't hear what he said because I was too fixated on his face. Oh mother, I think I love him. I wish I could marry him and stay with him forever."

"You can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"You cannot take a blessing Heaven has granted the world as something only for yourself!"

"But all I want to do is love him. Is it a crime to adore the man who saved you four times?"

"He is no man—"

"Then why did Heaven make him in the image of one? The handsomest man in the world, no less."

Distressed by her daughter's blasphemous words, the queen could only excuse herself to pray for guidance. Meanwhile, Laetitia's condition continued to worsen. Her hand was all black again by next morning, but the princess only viewed the terrifying scene with a soft, fond, smile.

"If he has to heal me himself every time, then doesn't this mean I won't be able to leave his side? We can stay together until the end of our days..."

This time the king and queen simply brought in a different angel healer to look at her ailment. But although the angel's treatment was effective, it hardly last an hour before the effects reversed. As Laetitia's delusion progressed, so did her ailment, extending to her arms, her shoulders, and then slowly the rest of her body. Though her mind remained self-aware, the princess of the Eryngium Kingdom slowly but sure transformed into a monster as her wild thoughts ran rampant. Her parents had to lock her up to hide the truth, and tried all sorts of methods to cure her, but to no avail. They pleaded with the angels for help, but all had been called for the final battle and had no time to spare for a simple princess's injury (to say nothing of the fact that she'd already delayed their leader so many times). Moreover, it was clear to them that the folly laid so clearly within Laetitia herself. Instead, they entreated the king and queen to tell the girl to reflect, and to give up the desire that was consuming her—but again, the words fell on deaf ears.

It wasn’t long before the queen fell prey to demons of her own in a mixture of anxiety and guilt. Step by step, the kingdom followed in her wake, all affected in part by the doomed princess. Ironically, she was the least concerned of all. Lying on her bed in her room as still as dust, she was even grateful: the bigger the ruckus made by her kingdom, the more likely Aurelius and his angels would come to investigate. They were charged with protecting the world and all its kingdoms, after all.

Unfortunately, when Aurelius did show up at last, it was to stab her through the head with his spear.

News had spread fast: Eryngium had fallen prey to a demon behind the front lines and most of its people were lost. When nearly everything about it was rotten, there simply wasn’t any merit to saving what was left. It was better to save everyone the trouble and start over from scratch after a thorough cleansing. Perched on the headboard with wings glittering gold, Aurelius had never looked as beautiful to Laetitia as he did in her moment of death.

He returned to his duties in Heaven after that, but the legend of Eryngium and its “demon princess” lived on for the next hundred or so years. It was a lesson to every human kingdom: covet not what you worship, lest you consumed all you loved in pursuit of an empty dream.

Faceclaims: - Blanche Friedkin, I'm Only a Stepmother But My Daughter is Just so Cute! - Karina Leopold, The Time of the Terminally Ill Extra.

#sunluzhen #𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔯𝔶 ࿐ answered #𝔙𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔞𝔰 ࿐ headcanons #amputation tw #body horror tw #religious cw #ok this got long b/c i wrote a whole fairy tale to go with it so i must cut oops #i don't mean that kind of CUT tho dfjdsfj sorry

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