#but I condemned myself huh

[idkwhatimd0ingatall]

Victors First Birthday Story Translation

Big thank you to @valnyte!

// is an alternate translation ----- are breaks i created to pace myself T/N- first time adding pics so ignore how bad it might seem hopefully the translation was good enough! ALSO storyteller/fairytale writer are the same in this story. i just forgot to change it. sorry about the repeat sentences, was rushing this

The dark night was my friend, and death was myself.

I will walk, walk and walk in the dark again today.

And suddenly, I look back.

See, there lies a blood-soaked, happy face of death.

Kate: Victor, Harrison lent me a book the other day. So.........

I handle my responsibilities/job, while Kate takes on the role of a storyteller.

Listening to Kate's stories while working together in the office is becoming a part of my daily routine.

(......You look like you’re having fun. Kate has become a full-fledged member of the Crown, hasn't she?)

Kate: Yes, that's right. It's about Marianne, the maid we discussed the other day.

Victor: Oh, in that case, give her some time off. It's important for her to meet her lover who is far away.

When I conveyed that the matter we discussed has been resolved, she blinked her eyes in surprise.

Kate: Victor, when do you sleep…?

Victor: When?

Kate: I understand you have an overwhelming amount of work. It seems like something I could never handle.

Kate: Even so, you promptly addressed the matter I consulted you about...

Victor: Oh~ Could it be that you're complimenting me? Well, that makes me happy!

Victor: But, unfortunately, even I need to sleep, and as a human, there's a limit to time.

//But unfortunately I sleep, and as long as I'm human, my time is limited.

Victor: Your consultation held an exceptionally high priority, you know.

Kate: …..Thank you, Victor.

Victor: The feeling is mutual. Thank you, Kate, for looking out for the kids working here.

Kate: And... if I'm misunderstanding/wrong, please disregard it.

Victor: ...Huh?

Kate: Victor, was there something that seemed to be bothering you?

Kate: Things that could cloud Victor's heart...

(This one/child truly has a keen eye for people, doesn’t she?)

Honest eyes deserve honest answers.

Victor: Tonight, William and I are embarking on a mission, but it's not a particularly pleasant one, I must say.

There's a story going around about a group that worships Her Majesty the Queen, essentially treating her as a deity.

(People are free to believe in what they want. We, as the Crown, have no right to condemn that. However..)

It appears that this organization kidnaps and imprisons women as idols, and if they are not considered worthy vessels for Her Majesty, they are killed.

//The group is said to kidnap and imprison women as idols and kill them if they are not worthy of Her Majesty.

Victor:  Tonight, we will proceed with the investigation, and if they are found guilty, we will deliver judgment in the name of evil.

//Tonight, we'll intensify the investigation. If they are guilty, we'll bring judgment in the darkness.

Kate: ...Committing murder in the name of their worship.

Victor: Kate, there's a possibility that this mission might not be pleasant for you either. So--

Before I could finish my sentence, Kate responded with a determined look in her eyes.

Kate: Victor, would you allow me to accompany you as a storyteller?

Believing that above all, we should respect her will, that night, we infiltrated the organization's stronghold.

William: Belongings of the missing, bloodstains, and then a body was discovered. There's no way to deny it.

Kate: This case is... deserving of condemnation, isn't it?

//This case is... in black, isn't it?

(Tommy Yeager, a noble. Leah Rodriguez, a legislator. Kevin Nicholson...)

(Quite a lineup/assemblage of influential figures, isn't it?)

In times of insatiable greed, those in power liken the queen to a deity and seem to have wishes they want her to fulfill.

William: Tonight, I can speculate that the ritual is taking place in two locations. Either on the upper floor of this mansion or in the basement.

Victor: I'll go to the basement with Kate. Let's head there immediately to prevent further victims.

Kate: Yes...

William: Victor, how much mercy tonight?

Victor: None needed. Their actions deserve condemnation. Loyalty to your wickedness, William.

Kate, I didn't want to show her too much of the horrific scene, praying that this wasn't the 'right' place…

(Ah, I see. It seems like the basement is the 'right' place.)

In the basement, there was an altar-like structure with flickering candlelight. People wearing masquerade-like masks surrounded the altar, and at its center lay a young girl who seemed barely of age.

(So, that's the 'replacement' for the queen. ...Truly grotesque.)

I noticed a man attempting to lower a candle onto the girl's arm, and without hesitation, I took a step forward.

However, Kate moved before me.

Kate: ............no, stop!

The red-haired man with a mask: W-who is this girl! Let go, let go...

Kate: Please stay away from her!... Kyaa!

It happened in an instant, and Kate, who was pushed away, collided with the altar and collapsed on the spot.

Victor: Kate...? Kate...?

(It's okay, she's breathing. She just passed out...)

---In the moment of her collapse, something seemed to have rolled and fallen near Kate.

(...Ah, this is...)

*******FLASHBACK*****************

Victor: Kate, tonight you were supposed to accompany Elbert and Roger on a mission.

Kate: Yes, I'm not used to it yet, so I hope I won't be a hindrance.

Victor: I see. Then, take this.

Kate: A cameo hairpin?

Victor: May it protect you from danger.

Kate: Hehe, it feels reassuring that you've always been there to protect me.

Kate: Thank you, Victor! I'll be going now.

*******FLASHBACK ENDS********************

(...The thing I gave you when you first came to the Crown, isn't it?)

With closed eyes, Kate and the girl lying on the altar, and those who had died, the reasons for not holding back tonight were ample.

Red-haired masked man: Hah, because you disturbed our sacred ritual!

Black-haired masked man: Hey, wait... This gentleman...

Black-haired masked man: Isn't that Lord Victor?

Freckled masked man: Really! Why is His Excellency, the right hand of the queen, here?

While looking at the eerie individuals with masks, focus is on one of them.

Victor: You're the one who pushed this girl, aren't you?

Red-haired masked man: Y-yes... It was me, Lord Victor.

Victor: As I command you. Pledge your allegiance to evil.

//Let it be commanded in the name of death. Now, it's time for death to come for you.

The man's eyes gaze into the void, and his expression becomes euphoric.

Red-haired masked man: Ah... It feels so wonderful. I... I...

The man reaches for his own neck and tightens it, ending his life.

Black-haired masked man: He's... dead...? Why did he... commit suicide...?

Looking at the bewildered men, I focus on one.

Victor: ...Starting from the right, say your names.

Black-haired masked man: Tommy Jaeger... Ugh...

Another death command.

Freckled masked man: Leah Rodriguez. Ah, I... Ah!

Another death command.

Finally, what remained was silence and the serene faces of those who died, as if having beautiful dreams.

William: Is it settled? It seems I won't have a chance to step in.

Victor: Yes, Will. The 'target' was here.

//Yes, Will. The correct location was here.

William: As always, they seem happy in death. As if invited by a god.

(A god, huh?)

As if emphasizing that "Queen Majesty" is not a god.

Victor: ......Humans can never become gods.

William: If you say so, it must be true.

William quietly smiles and lifts the girl on the altar.

William: This girl is mine. I'll leave Kate to you.

William: Considering your anger, it seems Kate is involved.

Returning to the castle, Kate was examined by Roger, and he mentioned that she would wake up soon.

Gently placing the unconscious Kate on her bed.

(Kate. I'm truly relieved that nothing happened to you.)

While looking at Katel's face, I recall the night we first met.

I suggested the position of a fairytale writer to her, partly on a whim,

and partly because I expected it to bring change to the Crown.

Although they are different types, all the Crown members are strong.

That's why I believe that "change brought on by others" is necessary.

People become stronger with the presence of others.

(That change will guide those children to even more beautiful evil/wickedness, I thought.)

I watched Kate from a distance, or at least that was the plan,

(You, without me realizing it, seemed to have brought change to me as well.)

As William said, when Kate was hurt, anger surged within me.

Vividly, truly... human-like emotions

(When you're around, I feel like I'm pulled from being a spectator to being involved.)

(But)

Gently placing the cameo hairpin back in Kate's hair

(No matter how cute you are, I must remain "Assistant to the Queen Victor," by your side as a guardian)

(Beyond that or less than that is not allowed)

//(Not more, not less)

Because if not, my darkness, death, would engulf/swallow her.

I give her hair a gentlemanly kiss.

Victor: Consider it a bad dream of one night and forget everything. Nightmares and death won't chase after you because of me.

Victor: ...Goodnight, Kate.

The next day, when Kate woke up, she rushed to apologize to me.

Kate: I'm sorry, Victor. It's because I rushed out without thinking...

(Don't worry, even if I say not to, you'll still worry.)

//(Don't worry, even if you say that, you'll still be concerned.)

(Oh, that's right. If that's the case,)

Victor: Kate, why don't we have lunch together?

Victor: Ah, today was a lonely lunchtime for me, so I'm glad you're here.

Kate: Is this to make up for last night?

Victor: Of course. Sharing a delicious meal with someone is one of my joys.

Kate: Hehe, then I'm relieved.

(Oh, finally your wonderful smile is back.)

--Suddenly, a fine rain starts to fall above us.

Victor: It's just a passing shower. Kate, come here. Let's go to that gazebo over there.

Kate: Y-yes...

(Well, that surprised me. London's rain is so unpredictable.)

Victor: Kate, are you okay—

Before I could ask, Kate wiped my cheeks with her own palm.

Kate: I'm fine. Besides, Victor...

Victor: ............

Kate's palm, which is more concerned about me getting wet than herself, is incredibly gentle.

It's like rain falling softly from a clear sky, and it once again brings change to my heart.

Kate: Besides, Victor...

Kate: There's something Liam wanted to give you. He was searching, saying he had to give it to you yesterday.

(Oh...)

Victor: Yesterday was my birthday.

Kate: ......Eh?

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

Kate: Eh!?

She seems to be the most surprised she's ever been since we met, making me laugh.

(It was just going to make her worry, so I didn't plan on revealing it myself.)

Kate: I'm sorry. I didn't know, and I didn't prepare any presents...

Victor: Haha, it's okay. I already bought it, Kate.

Kate: ?

Victor: Yesterday, you spent the entire day with me.

Victor: I wanted to respect your will, but deep down, I may have also wanted the childish desire for you to be with me on my birthday.

Victor: ...So, thank you, Kate.

Kate smiles and looks up at the sky, where the rain has stopped.

Kate: ...Hey, Victor. I'll become stronger, more and more.

Victor: Why is that?

Kate: I'm sure you'll protect me from something again. But... even if I'm weak...

Kate mutters that there are many things in this world that she doesn't need to know.

And she adds, "But, if it's you, Victor, I want to know everything. And..."

Kate: When you're going through a tough time, I don't want to just laugh and pretend I didn't know anything.

She laughs and looks at me, captivating me with those words.

Crown and I were changed, not just because of the changes she brought.

Kate herself is changing, becoming more beautiful with every blink.

(...She's like a spring storm)

I wonder if, one day, I'll be caught up in this storm and reveal the truth to her.

(But, for now)

Victor: Don't hurry too much to become strong, Kate. I might get lonely.

(Just a little longer, like this)

#ikemen villains #ikevil victor #ikevil #ikevil jp #ikevil spoilers #ikemen villains victor #ikemen villains spoilers #Hes so fine #ikevil translations

[whumpshaped]

Concept: beck becoming anemic after being fed on for a while and helle being thrown because huh, that had never happened before? Saw it as a side effect in your guide and was like OOH

not terribly long after this

masterlist

tw vampire whumper, sickfic i guess, blood transfusion, hospital setting, needles

Tired, tired, tired, always so fucking tired. Beck thought he was going to go mad with this constant, mind-numbing exhaustion. At first, he really assumed it was just the monotonity of his dire situation. He'd heard of people getting used to bad situations, then eventually their bodies shutting down 'out of nowhere'. It was never out of nowhere, of course. Prolonged abuse like that would've taken a toll on anyone's body.

But he tried to push through it, given he had no solution or end in sight. More sleep, as much as he could get away with while working during the day and entertaining a vampire during the night. More coffee, as much as he could drink without his anxiety skyrocketing and sabotaging his work. More fresh air even, something he had been stubbornly disregarding for the first 25 years of his life.

It didn't work. His skin continued to get paler, if that was even possible, his heart continued to act up, which he'd chalked up to the coffee, and he kept getting winded from the three flights of stairs leading up to his apartment. Even Helle's mild annoyance was slowly turning into proper concern.

"You will go to the doctor tomorrow," they announced one night. Beck groaned, but didn't argue.

"Okay."

"And I am not feeding from you tonight."

Well... that was good news, at least. "Do I really look that bad?" Helle sighed, almost exasperated, as though Beck should've known how heavy this had been weighing on their unbeating heart or whatever. Maybe he did look that bad, from the outside. "S-sorry. Thank you for, um... caring," he finished quietly, unsure of the wording.

They scoffed. "I am not condemning myself to drinking from some sick human." They grabbed his phone from the table and shoved it into his hands. "You should actually look up your symptoms. Now."

"Helle, I don't know how to explain this... online medical stuff is not the best source of–"

"That is why you are going to the doctor tomorrow. But until then–" They nodded towards the phone, still looking at him expectantly. "I want to know, too. What I can potentially expect. Is it deadly? Do I need to be looking for a new human? These are important things, you know."

Beck unlocked his phone and started typing in the name of the most trustworthy page in this realm of the internet that he could think of. He wondered whether Helle had ever had to deal with a long-term bloodbag getting a little too sick. Or had they always been a one-off kinda vampire? Surely, they should've been aware that this sort of thing could have severe health complications.

"So?" God, they sounded so impatient.

"Whatever it is, I'm not gonna die from it tonight. I swear."

Helle rolled their eyes and continued pacing. Why were they anxious about this? He should've been the one pacing and fearing for his life! And if he had been able to muster up the energy for it, he would've been.

"Anaemia," he said after a few more minutes. "That's the most likely, and um... it... it would make sense, I suppose. I probably should've thought about that..."

"Anaemia," Helle repeated, lost in thought. They didn't say anything for a long moment, and Beck didn't know whether that was a good or a bad sign. "I am not waiting until tomorrow. Get dressed."

"Wh– what?"

"I said get dressed."

It wasn't often that Helle sounded so serious. Whenever they did, Beck always got this sense of impending doom, like something utterly terrible was going to happen. What else could make an immortal, aloof vampire act so... weird?

He silently got up from the sofa and went to his bedroom, putting on some random clothes and a mask as quickly as he could. Was this thing deadlier than he realised? Had Helle lost many bloodbags to severe anaemia before? He didn't know, he was too afraid to ask, and he chose to believe it was simply an out of touch vampire's buyer's remorse.

"Are we going to a hospital?" he asked timidly as he stepped out of the bedroom, and Helle nodded. "In the middle of the night?"

"Are there no emergency care facilities in the whole of the city?" they snapped, and Beck decided to just let them do whatever they wanted. The worst that could happen to him in an ER was a bit of a scolding for wasting time. The worst Helle could do? Well. He knew which one he was going to choose.

He just hoped Helle wasn't about to threaten any nurses in the name of his... health.

-

Severe anaemia. Blood transfusion.

Beck stared at the nurse as they brought out the needle to take a sample of his blood, still in a daze when it pierced his skin. If Helle hadn't trained him better, he might've jerked his arm away.

What was going on?

The charmed employees gave no reaction to Helle's little joke about his blood being 'A plus, I mean, positive', just as they gave none to their presence in general. They moved through protocol as though everything was normal, giving Beck a rundown on what was about to take place and how.

"It could take up to four hours, but we might help it along a little. It's a wonder you were walking around like this without... well, dropping dead."

Beck gave a nervous chuckle. "Um, yeah, I guess... I don't know, I thought I was just not getting enough sleep."

The nurse gave him a look. "Of course. I assume the vampire bite scars on your wrist have nothing to do with the anaemia."

Right. He forgot that she could just... see that. "Uh..."

"I'm not here to judge, you're neither the first nor the last victim I treat. But it's good to be honest with healthcare professionals, yeah? I know there's a bit of a stigma around it in certain places, but the emergency room is not one of them."

Beck nodded mutely. He didn't dare look at Helle. Despite them causing the anaemia in the first place, he had to admit that he was grateful to them for forcing him to come in. Who knew how long he would've continued walking around like that? Maybe he would've dropped dead.

Once he was left alone in the room, Helle cleared their throat. "Well..."

"Thank you," he said without much prompting, knowing perfectly well that was what the vampire wanted to hear. It was easier to say now, when he actually felt grateful, as opposed to all the times when they wrung the words from him through sheer terror. "I wouldn't have come in without you. Definitely not to the emergency room, but... not even to my GP."

Helle leaned against the wall with a smile on their face. They seemed pleased. "Oh, do continue. I love praise like that."

"Will you stay? For the... the entirety of the four hours?" He nodded towards the needle, shifting uncomfortably. "I, um... I could use the distraction. Please."

"Are you afraid of needles?"

"Could you sound a little less excited about it?"

Helle shook their head, the amusement never leaving their face. "You do know you will get transfusions a lot, yes? I mean, most likely. Bloodbags and thralls get them a lot."

"Could you not remind me?" he asked, even whinier.

They laughed, then walked over and sat in the other comfortable chair next to his. "Would you still like me to stay?"

"If you're just gonna make it worse, then, then maybe not," he muttered. "No, wait– I changed my mind, I don't care. You can make it worse. I just don't– I don't wanna be alone."

"Oh, I have full permission?" They leaned over and poked the tube a little, and Beck almost yanked his arm away. Again.

"D-don't mess with the needle!" God, he was so trapped. He couldn't just run away with an IV in his arm. "I meant– I don't care what you say, but don't– don't do that! Please!"

"But it looks so tasty. I could rip it out and use it as a straw."

"Okay, maybe I do want you to leave."

Helle grinned, very satisfied with their own performance. "I am quite good at making others uncomfortable, am I not? It is a skill I have perfected over three hundred years."

Beck could only nod, miserable and exhausted. "Can you... not put all that experience to use for just two minutes? Respectfully."

"Two minutes? My darling, darling Beck. You want me to sit here and chat away for four hours." They sighed dramatically. "But yes, I suppose I could dial it back a little. Just for you."

~

taglist: @whumpsday @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @florissimps @nicolepascaline @oliversrarebooks @the-cyrulik @pirefyrelight @there-will-always-be-blood @pigeonwhumps @echo-goes-mmm @whumpycries @morning-star-whump

#at my beck and call #whump #whump writing #helle #beckett #vampire whumper #sickfic #blood transfusion #hospital setting #needles

[archiveikemen]

'Black Wedding' Story Event: Chapter 1

William's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

On a peaceful early afternoon, long fingers danced across the black and white keys on the piano.

(... It sounds so beautiful. I love listening to Will play the piano.)

While I was captivated by the beautiful tune, my lover, the King of Self-Righteousness, spoke in a way that sounded like he was singing along to the tunes he played on the piano.

William: Kate, why don’t you marry me?

Kate: …

(Me and William. Married?)

The words that came from those shapely lips were so sudden that my words caught in my throat.

William: Oya, did I just get rejected?

Kate: T—

Kate: That’s not what I mean!

William: Hmm?

Kate: I was just surprised by how sudden it was…

(I think my heart nearly stopped beating…)

I placed my hand over my heart that was still going crazy, William looked at me and laughed.

William: Then we’ll wait till you’ve calmed down from the surprise.

(Getting married to William.)

I felt like I had been misled by those words that came out of his mouth…

(William loves freedom, I can’t believe he proposed the idea of marriage…)

Kate: Is there a reason for why you said that all of a sudden?

William: You’re as smart as ever.

William: While conducting investigations with Victor, we got some information on an organisation named “Amour”.

William: They’re based in a church, and claim to be able to “make love last for eternity”...

William: There have been several cases where the couples who approached that church in search of eternal love never returned.

Kate: … They never returned? Could it be…

William: It’s not that they never returned, but rather they can’t. They've probably been killed.

(What the…)

William: The killer is the head of the organisation, the Founder.

Kate: Why would he take those innocent lives…?

William: I wonder…?

(William definitely knows why.)

He shrugged his shoulders and didn't say a thing, the look in his eyes told me “if you want to know, find out for yourself”.

(Of course… that’s the plan.)

Will smiled in response to that implicit murmur and narrowed his eyes.

Kate: Whatever his reason may be, it’s Crown’s duty to condemn evil with evil, so that there won't be any more victims.

Kate: And as a fairytale writer… it’s my duty to write that down in the records.

William: Yes. That’s my lovely little robin.

His smile was so charming and uplifting.

(Whenever he looks at me like this, I feel like I can accomplish anything.)

He was the only person in this world who could make me feel that way.

Kate: So what does us getting married have to do with punishing Amour for their sins?

William: Amour holds weddings as the ceremony to grant couples eternal love.

William: And it appears that the Founder, who is the root of the problem, will only show himself then.

William: He’s so thorough in hiding, it’s clear that he has a guilty conscience.

Kate: So you're saying that we’ll infiltrate the organisation and have our “wedding”...

Kate: Then lure the Founder out?

William: That’s right. … Hearing the details might change your mind.

Kate: Huh…?

Will narrowed his eyes and twirled my hair around his finger.

William: The kiss of oath might turn into a bloodbath.

William: If having an upright wedding is your dream, it’s still not too late to turn back.

Will smiled while offering me an escape route.

(In the past, the message he’s trying to convey would’ve really been “you can do as you please”.)

(But now, perhaps…)

(He just wants to hear me tell him myself what I want.)

This selfish king with red eyes enjoyed loving my desires.

Kate: Of course I won’t turn back. I want to have that wedding ceremony with you.

Kate: Even if we get drenched in blood… that would be wonderful because it’d be a kiss of oath to never forget.

Will smiled happily and kissed the locks of hair he was fidgeting with.

William: … Then it’s decided.

…

While getting myself ready for our mission, I smiled as I thought back to what happened earlier.

(I never expected to ever hear Will ask me “will you marry me?”)

The thought of having a wedding ceremony was making me nervous, even though it was a pretend one.

And then it hit me.

(This… this is the first time I’ve been conscious about the possibility of marrying Will.)

I loved him so much that I was willing to give him my everything, both my body and soul.

(Maybe it’s because we’ve had many much more important things to be concerned about?)

He was destined to be destroyed one day.

As someone who loved him, I was bound to be consumed by that fate as long as I stayed by his side.

I was desperate to accept that reality, love each other, and remain by his side until the day I died.

(But what if we were to have a real wedding…?)

A wedding was a sacred ceremony for a couple to vow their love to each other.

For us, who have chosen to live in the darkness �� who and what do we vow to?

…

Kate: … This church is beautiful…

The organisation was based in a church located outside of London.

The air of tranquillity made it feel as if it was a painting.

(I can’t believe people are being killed here…)

William: A dangerous organisation that reeks of blood, and having a pretend wedding with a villain…

William: … A rather pervasive situation you’re in. How are you feeling?

Kate: Honestly, I’m feeling nervous… but I’m also a little excited.

Kate: Of course, I’ll be careful not to put you in danger.

William: Fufu, my knight is still going strong today.

Kate: Kya…

He put his arm around my waist and pulled me to him like we were in a dance.

William: Like this, let’s show off to our hearts content.

Kate: Show off… show what off?

William: That we’re in love with each other.

William: Oh, I didn't tell you? Not everyone can hold their wedding here.

William: The followers of Amour have to acknowledge that we “truly love each other”.

William: We can’t just have a wedding.

Kate: So does that mean… our mission is a failure if we don't get acknowledged as lovers?

Will gave me an affirmative smile.

Kate: Then… we should flirt as much as we want… right?

(Flirting in front of others… that’s kind of embarrassing.)

(It’s to be able to spend time with Will while on a mission.)

William: Just do what you always do.

William: There won’t be any problems as long as you keep showing how adorable you are with your bright red whenever I hug you like this, Kate.

Kate: …!?

Will gave me a quick peck and let go of me.

William: Let’s go.

Kate: A-Alright…

(Will my heart… survive till the end of this mission?)

…

Cultist: Thank you very much for coming to our church.

Upon arriving at the chapel, we were greeted by several cultists dressed in white.

At first glance, they appeared good-hearted because of their calm smiles.

(But… all of their eyes aren't smiling. It looks as if their smiles are plastered onto their faces.)

According to Will, the main culprit who was doing the killings was the Founder.

Here, the Founder’s orders were absolute, and the cultists seemed to be blindly following them.

Cultist: So the two of you are looking to hold your wedding here.

William: Yes. I want to take her freedom away, so that my adorable lover can never fly away from me ever.

William winked.

My heart pounded hard upon hearing those words that William would never say, even if he really considered that.

(You're saying that sort of thing in this situation whereby there's no telling what’s true or false… that's not fair.)

Kate: I… I want to devote my entire life to him.

Kate: And… I want all of his “love”.

(What I just said is the truth, Will.)

William: …

As I spoke while looking into Will’s eyes, I saw his gaze grow passionate.

(Ah…)

It wasn’t an act, that gaze expressed his genuine love for me.

William: You should be more selfish, my bride.

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil story event #niki translates

[goldenwoods]

I don't want to beat the dead horse of 'Harry Potter's depiction of enslaved house elves is disgusting' but...I simply can't help myself. It still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, and I made this account to rant, after all.

So, I knew that Harry Potter never solved systemic slavery, nor even condemned it as a system. Treating house elves badly was a big no, but enslaving them in general? Debatable to say the least, says the narrative. But a recent conversation with a friend made me remember some details about just how bad it was.

First of all, though the freeing of elves via socks is a repeated element, information regarding how house elves are enslaved (or indeed, how they are born) are never shown. It's some nebulous 'bound by magic' thing and George said they come with old manors (huh?). The narrative deliberately presents all of them in an already enslaved state. Enslavement is, in the Harry Potter universe, the natural state of elves while freedom on the other hand is something that requires an external 'act', something unnatural. Elves are not shown to naturally possess autonomy which is thereafter systematically deprived, rather, they are born as part of a wizard family's property. This is pretty disturbing and sets the foundation for the narrative's whole "slavery is okay because house elves like it!' thing.

The second problem is Harry Potter himself. Harry is infuriatingly passive in front of disgusting acts of slavery. And it's not because he's a shy or apathetic character. Harry will stand up for people, is quite rash about it in fact, and even at his calmest will issue an appropriately scathing remark. But when Winky, someone who's whole kind has been enslaved and abused for who knows how long, sprouts of stuff she's been conditioned to believe like 'we're not paid, and Dobby wanting to be is unbecoming', or 'we're not supposed to have fun' or 'we do what we're told', Harry doesn't tell her 'No? You are entitled to individual autonomy, enslaving you is wrong.' but he's just like 'eh.....Dobby's cool, let him live his life.' and when Hermione complained about their oppression, the book states, literally, "Harry shook his head and applied himself to his scrambled eggs." and "True, both [Harry and Ron] had paid two Sickles for a S.P.E.W. badge, but they had only done it to keep her quiet." and regarding a professor using house elves to test for poison, Harry simply thought 'welp, guess Hermione's gonna be pissed about that, better not mention it'. (???) What the hell is going on with the good guys here, Rowling? Is this the approved attitude towards slavery?

Thirdly, of course, is the whole 'house elves love being enslaved' thing. Which...silly me for thinking Rowling was trying to critique systemic oppression...and not trying to shove it under the rug after using one poor oppressed elf to characterise bad guy Lucius. I mean, Hagrid's reasoning as to why we shouldn't free elves is absurd, he explains that it's 'in their nature to look after humans, that's what they like', they'd be unhappy to have their work taken away, and they'd be insulted if they got paid. Which is, first of all, a demonstrably untrue statement, because Dobby loved being paid. ('in their nature' generalisations proven to be inaccurate? What a shock!) But even putting that aside, how does this translate to slavery? You could...I don't know, free them and let them voluntarily be cooks, cleaners, servants, whatever, instead of keeping them under a 'magical bound' that makes coerced self-harm possible. They can...take care of you and be your servants if they really want to without being your property. What the hell.

Last but not least is how the only time the narrative made Ron Weasley ('good guy' who's exasperated by Hermione's house elves movement) openly consider the well-beings of house elves is when they wanted to set up Ron and Hermione's big romantic kiss. There's something so gross about Rowling trying to finalise her haphazardly-written romance with her poorly-written slaves, a group that she had, in the last few books, already mercilessly exploited for "comedy" via Hermione's unsuccessful activism. And it's...not even that significant. Ron: 'Hey, don't you think we shouldn't trap enslaved elves in a sieged castle that's about to become a death pit?' Hermione, and the narrative by extension: 'You're amazing, Ron! For showing them basic decency!' *aggressive kissing ensues*

And then Rowling made a whole crowd of house elves (along with a bunch of other systemically oppressed races that she couldn't bother writing properly) rush into battle on Harry/Hogwarts' behalf because wow, isn't he benevolent towards the enslaved? They love him! Like...no, Rowling, you didn't earn the 'all races unite' moment, rather you screwed it over so badly that your feel-good climax presents a picture of slaves rushing to defend their masters, who, I might add, just kind of forgot about them and decided that establishing nuclear families with a bunch of kids and no evil baddie anymore means 'all is well', systemic issues be damned.

#anti harry potter #harry potter critical #anti jkr

[thatswhatsushesaid]

k i'm gonna just put a pin in the whole "was jgy actually massacring multiple sects of 40+ people just for demonic cultivation date nights with xue yang" ('meat cute' anyone? ..I'll see myself out) or the "is wwx's capacity for gruesome violence inherently morally[1] inferior/superior to jgy's" disc horse for another time and move on

no one criticizing willfully bad faith takes about jin guangyao is trying to turn wei wuxian into the novel's villain when they bring up his actions in relation to what jin guangyao has done. no one is actually saying that jgy is not the principle antagonist in the novel. we can read. that is his role in the story, his goals and priorities end up in opposition to wwx's, and wwx is the protagonist. and, to my knowledge, there are no legit wen chao simps chomping at the bit to justify his eradication of the jiang sect at lotus pier. unless there are! in which case apologies to any wen chao simps who may read this post, your simping is valid. (also: bold choice. weird, but bold.)

what we are saying: the text intentionally sets up jgy and wwx as narrative parallels to each other. the text intentionally provides us with unreliable narrators as our lens through which we must view 95% of jgy's actions, first in the form of wwx (please don't @ me about his reliability, this man's spotty memory is meme-worthy, contentious legislation pass through parliament with more alacrity than his self-awareness wrt his relationship with lan wangji), then through wwx's interpretation of nmj's resentment-fuelled recollection of the past as a literal fierce corpse, then through sect leader yao formulating his extemporaneous[2] magnum opus of a condemnation narrative about jin rusong's death, after the witness testimony about jgy's marriage to qin su and super fucked up murder of his father. like, I hope it is understood why no one should be using testimony from sect leader yao as the foundation of their understanding for any character in this novel, period. /rattles the bars of my enclosure, do not trust sect leader yao!! he is the weathervane conservative mp, any time you end up in agreement with him should make you p a u s e and re-evaluate.

my point: mdzs is a fucked up little world filled with fucked up cultivation world politics and crimes and atrocities, and our most reliable window into this world is, unfortunately, wei "oh yeah I forgot about that plot detail" wuxian. more than that, his priority in the narrative is understandably not focused on solving the mystery (read: not a mystery) of why all of jgy's motivations, actions, and decisions are measured against a standard set so much higher than the one the rest of the cultivation world has to contend with (spoilers, it's classism). it's up to the reader to spot the context clues, often in the form of bits of overheard commentary provided by the common people in the background of some other major plot event that is unfolding, or in an aside by wwx himself where he reflects, "huh, maybe it's my own bias impacting my ability to read this situation clearly." I'm paraphrasing here but you get what I'm saying.

tl;dr the least interesting discussion we could possibly have about jgy and wwx is whether either of them are Good or Bad Guys Deep Down, particularly when evidence for either of these positions are provided by the novel's unreliable narrators and witnesses, but for some reason that's the discussion the jgy antis seem hellbent on having, and it's boring.

--

[1] I cannot stress to you how microscopic my interest is in some bible study-adjacent debate on morality in a danmei novel about necromancy, revenge killing, and the willful desecration of human remains. the extent to which I just do not give a fuck about this particular brand of disc horse is vast and limitless.

[2] inserts the padme amidala and anakin skywalker square meme here like we all understand that sect leader yao's statement about jin rusong's murder is based on speculation and not even circumstantial evidence, right? ...we understand that, right?

#jin guangyao #meng yao #mdzs meta #jin guangyao defence league #mdzs #he did crimes??? good for him 😌

[feral-ballad]

as a pro-palestine jew trying to justify myself to my family, I really appreciate the sources your blog is providing!! that being said, and this is a genuine question, hamas’s charter directly called for the annihilation of all jews. “The Day of Judgment will not come about until Moslems fight Jews and kill them.” how can you support hamas when they’ve said something like that? just as israel is not synonymous with jews, hamas is not synonymous with palestinians and it’s possible to support palestinian liberation without supporting an actively antisemitic organization. if you’re jewish and have somehow made peace with that statement then I can’t understand but I can respect it, but it doesn’t seem that you are, and there’s no way in my mind that I can as a jewish person get behind something so plainly calling for the genocide of jewish people. again this isn’t me trying to have a gotcha moment or whatever, I really want to understand

the lack of condemnation ≠ support of hamas. “hamas is not synonymous with palestinians,” you are correct. however, if hamas does not exist, palestine will be wiped out. condemnation of hamas serve to justify support for israel wiping them out. which means ethnic cleansing and a continuation of genocide. hamas is a resistance group operating in opposition of the oppressive israeli government. “it’s possible to support palestinian liberation without supporting an actively antisemitic organization,” no it’s not possible. do you hear yourself? who is going to liberate these people? the sky? our prayers? demanding the liberator (hamas) to be “perfect” while there’s a fascist oppressor is celebrated is fucking insane. this is not about islam vs. judaism. this is not about religion. before 1948, there was no such thing as “israel,” it was palestine, with muslim, christian and jewish arabs (and other religions). you claim to be pro-palestine, but you don’t like it when palestinians are defending themselves against their oppressor? the palestinians have EVERY right to defend themselves (despite whatever hamas stands for) in any way possible! you’re just simply falling for israeli propaganda. no one fucking mentions the countless crimes of the IDF that they have been committing for years because they can just be waved away with “but hamas!” lmao okay. you can’t say “free palestine” then condemn a liberation movement in the same sentence. not to mention, equating the resistance of hamas to israeli violence as if their magnitudes are even remotely similar.

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMjqnFKcK/ (her videos are very informative btw)

so why don’t we stop talking about hamas and talk about israel instead? do you condemn israel for the 75 years of occupation and genocide? why don’t we talk about that instead, huh?

#from the river to the sea palestine will be free #free palestine #gaza #🇵🇸 #ethnic cleansing #genocide

[errorscriber]

there's been a lot of talks about shidou's safety in regards to amane now that Purge March has dropped, I would like to give some people peace of mind about amane's threat to shidou. there have been lore drops here and there that implies he'll be fine

21/03/22 (Kazui’s First Trial)

Shidou: Mukuhara-san, you’ve not been looking great ever since you came back.

Kazui: Ahh…… yeah, I still haven’t got back to my usual self huh. Y’know, Shidou-kun…… kids can be really brutal huh. I don’t have any of my own so hadn’t realised until now.

Shidou: Haha, so they are. They won’t listen to the excuses adults make to explain themselves. ……though that’s also what makes them cute.

Kazui: Yeah… You’re really mature, Shidou-kun. By comparison, I’m really immature huh. Not growing up in any way other than my age. ……*sigh* Even I’m starting to hate that about myself.

22/06/27 (Amane’s Birthday)

Kazui: What’s up, Shidou-kun? You’re looking pretty down. I guess you must be tired, I’ve been relying on you a lot lately.

Shidou: Yeah, I just remembered…… today is Amane’s birthday. I’m just getting a bit sentimental.

Kazui: Hmm, it’s unfortunate, but at the moment we can’t worry about that. ……you understand, right? There’s something that you need to do right now. And if you tried talking to her your words definitely won’t reach her. Don’t look at me like that. We’ll just wait until the situation changes. Let’s do our best.

Shidou: Yeah. I’ll do what I can. I can’t have a child making a face like that. Even though we’re “murderers”…… we’re also the adults here.

22/10/24 (Shidou’s Birthday)

Amane: ……Kirisaki Shidou. How long do you plan on continuing this foolish behaviour?

Shidou: I wonder what you might be referring to there. I’m just doing what I need to do. If anything, I’d be happy if you would lend me a hand.

Amane: I warned you. I can no longer turn a blind eye to this wickedness taking place right in front of us. You’re bringing ruin unto yourself. Do you understand?

Shidou: No, I don’t understand. It’s my job as an adult to teach you that throwing a temper tantrum isn’t going to make everything go your way. If it’s a test of endurance you want, I’m happy to oblige, Amane.

i know prison isn't really comparable to a hospital, but shidou is a doctor. he's probably met folks who are averse towards medical treatments. we have to also remember he's canonically a father as well. the patience in this man knows no bounds! shidou is the person who knows best that children can get volatile if they go through their word and actually initiate in their tantrums.

in the second trial we've clearly seen him be more proactive and more motivated to interact and help other people in the prison. to me, these conversations shidou has had implies that he'll find a way or be able to defend himself is amane were to do something to him.

maybe let's say, i am grasping for straws here and maybe shidou is gonna be in ruins but for now i want to have faith in that guy. he's tried to be gentle and passive around amane at first from the very beginning, now he knows that type of approach doesn't work. i surely hope he's prepared and i think from these conversations, shidou himself is trying to prepare for what is about to come.

i do want to take amane seriously and respect her wishes not to downplay her as a child but im not gonna try and give her too much power, i don't think she's a Big and Major Threat we should all worry about. i know there are so many variables we have to consider in the second trial towards what to vote. regardless of what you want to vote her this trial, i think our first trial verdict has already locked her thoughts into place anyway.

22/04/19 (Futa’s Birthday)

Futa: ……! O-oh, it’s just you. It’s nothing. ……but well, on that note. Hey. Don’t you have anything happening too? Since being in here, just suddenly getting anxious. Feeling as though loads of people are all there condemning you, telling you you were wrong.

Amane: ……I’m fine. I don’t know what you’ve done or what it is you’re worried about, but I think if there’s something you believe in, you should stay true to it. It’s not something that should waver just because other people said something. I personally don’t plan on changing my own beliefs even if I’m told I’m wrong either…… ……today is your birthday, correct? I’ll pray for God to keep you under his care.

this is my first time doing a post like this so im sorry if there are any misunderstandings i have regarding these conversations. i do hope that maybe you can find some faith that shidou will turn out fine in some way. he's going to beef with a 12 year old. he should start thinking about what to do.

#amane momose #shidou kirisaki #milgram #milgram theory #milgram analysis #> yuuyuus rambles < #yuugram log

[rhinozilla]

Detroit: Become Family 2022 - Prompt 5: Lost

@dbh-found-family

The Oldsmobile continued to roll up and down the same streets, pacing circles around the same blocks. It had been nearly half an hour, and Hank could already tell he was losing the light. The other squad cars had already turned off their lights and returned to the station with the perp in custody.

Hank couldn’t go back yet. Not until he found Connor.

“Which way did he go, Ben?”

“Uh, that way, I think, past the old car lot. Do you want backup?”

“Backup—Ben, it’s Connor.”

“You didn’t see him, Hank. For a minute there, he wasn’t Connor.”

Hank slowed the car, squinting at the storefronts as they passed by. It was rundown building after rundown building: plenty of places to hide. But he was a half-decent detective, and he knew Connor.

He narrowed it down to the building with the fewest windows and a second floor, stopping the car. The windows that weren’t boarded up had been broken. There was tape on the front door condemning the structure and barring it from public access, but the side door looked recently used.

He got out of the car, sighed, and closed the car door, heading over to the side door to the building. He could practically feel Connor watching him from inside the building, but he pretended not to notice, cracking open the door and peering inside. The interior of the building was clear of debris or any other mess. Just a battered couch and some folding chairs where squatters had hung out.

Connor wasn’t sitting on any of that. He was hugging his arms to himself and standing near the boarded windows, watching Hank with guarded eyes. The dusk light was slipping in through the windows, and Connor’s eyes were almost glowing that eerie blue technology glint.

It was just Connor, but Hank suddenly understood what Ben had meant. Something was wrong.

The perp had just been a down-on-his-luck deviant who’d robbed a supply warehouse for some tools to repair their damaged something-or-other. The guy had tripped a silent alarm, panicked when police showed up, and ran. Connor had been with Officer Miller, and they had been the closest unit to respond. According to Chris, Connor had practically flown out of the car to pursue the perp on foot. Whatever model the other android was, they had no chance of outrunning Connor.

“You ever seen those National Geographic videos, showing tigers and wolves and predators chasing after their prey? That’s what he looked like.”

“Give me a break, Ben.”

“I mean it. He just…disappeared behind the eyes.”

Hank stared back at Connor, seeing the fidgets creeping into his hands, betraying his nerves.

“Hey, Con,” he greeted softly. “Rough day, huh?”

Connor’s expression didn’t change, but his shoulders jostled with a snort. He closed his eyes and looked away, rubbing his hands up and down his arms nervously.

“Is he okay?” he asked quietly.

Hank frowned in confusion, and Connor glanced at him.

“The perp. Is he okay?”

Hank raised his eyebrows, then shoved his hands into his coat pockets and leaned against the dusty wall.

“Yeah. He’s all right. He’s in custody now. Chris made the arrest, after—”

“After I ran away.”

“After the perp stopped running.”

“He stopped running because I stopped him,” Connor murmured, distress in his tone. “I…chased him down, subdued him, and…terrified him.”

“You pursued a guy who robbed a place.”

“I hunted him,” Connor spat, his shoulders hunching. He lowered his hands to his sides, clenching them into fists. His voice started to rise. “In that moment, he wasn’t a guy who had robbed a store, he was a deviant. And I wasn’t a police officer of the DPD, I was the Deviant Hunter. He was a Deviant, and I Hunted him.”

Hank’s gut twisted at the heartbroken look on his friend’s face.

“I lost myself,” Connor went on, starting to tremble. “I thought becoming deviant myself meant that I…But it’s all still here—” He pointed at his head. “It’s all just right there still, ready to jump out and take over. I’m still…”

His shoulders slumped as he deflated, leaning back against the top of the couch. He lifted a hand and covered his eyes, taking a deep, ventilating breath. Hank grimaced and moved closer. He reached out a hand and touched Connor’s elbow.

“Hey. Look at me,” he prompted.

Connor started to lean his elbow away from Hank, then exhaled and lowered his hand, lifting his eyes to meet Hank’s. Hank offered a grin, giving his elbow a wiggle.

“You’re still you. You just…slipped.”

One of Connor’s eyebrows quirked incredulously.

Hank snorted. “You’re not lost, son. At least…not any more lost than me or anybody else.”

Connor deadpanned. “You’ve never been programmed to identify, track, and shutdown an entire group of people.”

Hank tilted his head, conceding that point. “True, but I do know what it’s like to be…taken over by…an impulse. I wasn’t programmed to be an alcoholic, but I still chose to drink myself into one. Now I’m…a recovering alcoholic at least, but I’m still an alcoholic. And you’re a recovering Deviant Hunter, and you are choosing to not be that anymore.”

Connor sighed. “That isn’t the same—”

“I know,” Hank admitted. “I’m not a metaphor…wizard. Wordsmith. Whatever. I just mean…Even when you slip. Even when you…get lost…You get to come back. You brought me back from the brink. I can return the favor when you need it.”

Connor eyed him, looking at least slightly relieved by that. “You will?”

Hank nodded, wiggled his elbow again to break up the tension, and then took a step back. “Of course. That’s how it works.”

Connor blinked. “How what works, Hank?”

Hank opened his mouth, closed it, then made a vague gesture. “You know…We’re colleagues. Friends. Housemates. We take care of each other.”

Like family.

It went unspoken. It didn’t have to, but neither of them said the word aloud.

He should…say the word.

A car backfired somewhere nearby, followed by a dog barking. It broke the weird silence that was trying to settle over that unspoken word, and Hank put his hands on his hips. He stepped back and gestured to the door.

“Ready to go home?” He cast his eyes around the dusty room. “Not that this isn’t…really just…prime real estate for a good mope.”

Connor snorted and straightened up. “I was not moping.”

“Spoken like a moper.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Blah, blah, blah,” Hank teased. “C’mon. Let’s head back to the station, son.”

Connor chuckled at that, and it broke the rest of the discomfort in the air.

“Okay, Hank. Let’s go.”

Hank bobbed his head and led the way, hearing Connor’s familiar steps behind him. He skirted around the front of the Oldsmobile and popped open the driver’s side door. He looked across the hood and was rewarded with seeing Connor’s expression slightly less distressed and upset than before.

“Thank you for finding me, Hank.”

Hank smirked, winked, and ducked down into the car. “Anytime. It’s what we do.”

#detroit: become family event #dbh connor #hank anderson #mentions of #tw alcoholism

[justrambles]

(Beauty and the beast au steddie)

(snippety as I intended in the first place — I don't know what happened with other ones)

No.9 — Talks (between doors)

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"So where do you get the vegetables from?"

"What?"

"I mean, you used to only get me, uh, meat for the meals but you started getting me carrots and tomatoes recently. Is there like a wild plot nearby? If it's close I think I can go there myself. Save you the trouble, you know?"

"..."

"Steve?"

"...There's a communal garden just outside Loch Nora."

"A communal garden."

"...Yeah."

"Oh."

"Look, I panicked, okay? Nancy and Dustin told me you'd be needing vegetables too but I couldn't find them in the woods! And the garden was just nearby!"

"No, wait, Stevie, I'm not condemning you or anything. I should be thanking you. You are getting them for me. And I think that's a bit punk, actually."

"I don't even know what that means."

"You know, maybe this counts as anti-consumerism and... Wait, did you say, outside Loch Nora?"

***

"Dustin, I thought you said you guys couldn't leave?"

"We can't."

"So how does Steve go out into town?"

"Oh, yeah. Steve's an exception. He can leave. I thought you knew about this, Eddie. He's been bringing you food."

"To be honest I just thought he found them nearby, within the boundary of this place. Didn't know he had to go around a lot."

"Well, the boundary is very small. If it were big enough, we'd be going out often. I don't think I'd even give a shit about shitty storms, man. So, if we wanted something from outside this place, Steve would have to be the one to go out."

"Come to think about it, I don't think I've seen him get out. Wait, when does he go out? How come I've never seen him?"

***

"So that performance was, that was very metal."

"Huh, you really do know a lot about music."

"And have so many opinions about it, too."

"Well, thank you for the compliment, Steve, and thank you for your insight, Robin. Of course I have opinions about it. I've been playing for a long time now. Music is like a second language to me, one of my band members once said." (they didn't)

"Do you have any other real languages you speak? Other than music? You know, I can speak Spanish, French, and Italian well enough and I've been wanting to learn more, but it's kind of hard to do it here. So, do you?"

"...Yeah, of course. Uh, Quenya?"

"Quenya? Whoa, I've never heard of it. Where is it spoken in?"

"Uhh... Middle-earth?"

"Middle-earth?"

"Yup, yeah, that's right."

"Middle-earth. Wait, that's-. That's the one from Dustin's books."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

***

"Alright- Jesus, Munson, you can do this. It's simple. Just go and ask. Simple."

knock knock

"Hey, Stevie? You in there?"

"Yeah, what is it, Eddie?"

"So, I was writing down some stuff — you know, for the dnd session I'm planning for the kids? Anyways, my pen kind of broke down in the midst of it. I was wondering if I could borrow yours?"

"Uh, yeah? Sure."

"Cool! So, can I come—"

"You'll find some in the study on the first floor."

"...Oh."

"...Umm, you okay there?"

"Yeah yeah, thanks! I'll be down at the study if you need me, Steve!"

***

"Did you know that your dad's the most boring man to exist?!"

"My dad? What?"

"There's nothing in the study, Steve. Nothing."

"There's... a wall full of books there?"

"Yes, but nothing important's there! Where are the literatures? Science fiction? Or even philosophy? Who in their right mind wants to read books about managing time?"

"Uh... Is that a bad thing?"

"Honestly, the Encyclopedia was the most interesting there. And that says something. But- oh yeah, thanks for the pen, Stevie."

"Yeah, no problem."

***

"That Dragons and Daggers thing you told me about,"

"Dungeons and Dragons, man. Dungeons and Dragons."

"Yeah right, so what's that about?"

"Well, it's like a board game, actually. But definitely more complicated and more intense. It's a challenge for those who play, navigating through worlds of fantasy— and, uh, you play as a character and roll dice to make your moves. It's totally fun."

"It does sound fun. So you're gonna help the kids 'navigate through the world of fantasy'?"

"Yup! That'll be me, I'm the DM. Dungeon Master. I'd be narrating and making the kids face obstacles."

"Cool."

"...You know, you could come and watch if you want. The kids would love it. I could even make an NPC based on you."

"...Yeah, no. Maybe later, I guess. But thanks for the offer, Eddie."

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #dustin henderson #robin buckley #beauty and the beast au #eddie is curious

[thewriterowl]

Luke, having experienced a lifetime of ceaseless work and profound pain, to then be gifted a chance to reconnect with life:

Luke: *vibrating with excitement and joy* I can suffer so much for the benefit of others, most likely condemning myself to die at a young age, wrung out and further traumatized.

The Force: Alright, I'm gonna go ahead and break out the spray bottle.

He's trying, the poor baby....but he is really just sort of...making things a lot more difficult for himself, huh? XD

#owl inbox #sunburst #luke skywalker

[aetherin21]

An Image of my last spring

Pairing: Getou Suguru x Reader

Genre: Angst with comfort, small fluff

Notes: Reader is a sorcerer turned office worker just like Nanami :) if I ever see mistakes here I'll change and fix it in my Ao3. This has been in my drafts for like 3 weeks I think and I just wanna post it now before I forget hahaha also this is inspired by Dr. Park's words of Suguru being Satoru's last spring of youth and the Promotional art of the Season 2 of JJK :)

5:35 PM

February 3, 2017

Shibuya Station

Soulless is the sound of steady tapping that echoes through the air while the floor gently vibrates to where I currently stood. Its constant rhythm encloses the area in its own little bubble, creating an ecosystem far beyond any person's reach. 

At the corner of my eye, I could see the sight of rushing bodies reaching the depths of where I hid as I waited patiently for my train to arrive. Like a glorified aquarium, splashes of muddy white, blues, browns and black mixes in with the current school of people. It's not hard to miss their colorful forms as they slowly turn into a raging tide of their own. Their gradual awakening signals the beginning of the evening rush hour. And soon, without a doubt I'll be caught by that wave of meat.

With that thought, being unable to escape from its nauseating grip could make me kneel and pray to no one in particular. Dragging my vessel to its epicenter, fully engulfed by the unpleasant sensation of rubbing flesh and hot breath fanning through the tiny bumps of exposed skin; consumed by its awful flow. It's much easier to swallow the idea of being executed in a horrific fashion than to be judged by their so-called righteous mallet and scornful eyes. Forever condemned by its world court and abandoned with no other island besides my own. Is what I initially thought anyway.

"Maybe I should have done some overtime again…" I mumble to myself.

Deciding to Ignore the countdown of my impending doom, I exhaled the bitterness within me. Fiddling at the small screen I held. Distracting myself had become a ritual of mine, a sort of coping habit that developed through the decade that was so unkind. Letting myself submerge to another aether, not allowing a single thought or emotion leak through the cracks of my stone shell. Pumping the veins etched in me with calm adrenaline as if I am in a state of a passing nirvana.

Funnily enough, it reminds me of that film Rocky. Particularly that famous scene where the protagonist trained intensely while the song 'Eye Of The Tiger' plays in the background. Capturing the essence of his perseverance, strength and hardwork. Just like him, I'll be entering my own very montage except the loud music blasting through my ears will astral project my soul to another dimension as my body turns into a human sandwich. Very dramatic. I know but I would rather meet my end in style than to... Huh — Weird. That last line sounds awfully too familiar. Ringing unusual bells in the depths of my mind. 

Did I used to say that? It feels out of character. Out of place. It's too cool and somewhat edgy for someone like me to say. Yet it tasted a little foreign and familiar at the same time. Scratching my chin in place of a brain, I could only conclude I might have gotten it from someone else. But where exactly?

Think, think, think…It can't be from my coworkers nor from my family. They're all too normal and boring to say something like that. I don't have many friends to begin with either so that’s out of the question. 

With how tingly my tongue is, the answer seems to be at the edge already. Maybe it came from an action movie that I had watched before? It is rather cliche in format.  If I repeat it, will it come out? 

To meet my end in style. To meet my end in style. To meet my end in — 

Chanting it like a spell, I summoned what lies beyond those lines. But all too quickly, the grinning image of a boy flashed before my eyes. Both falling and burning way too fast as it reached the ends of my fingertips. Only its ashes remain before I could even hold it in the palm of my hands.

The lighthouse that often watches over me, sensed my growing sorrow within. Casting a stream of yellows beyond the horizon, it guides my sight towards the answers I seek. I remember where that line came from. 

Satoru, the annoying gigantic furby, used to play good cop and bad cop with another boy his size. Both of them were enamored by western films they constantly watch a lot. Sometimes they would often repeat every written dialogue like some new gag. Meticulously pushing every button they can to see what tickles our funny bones. It was annoying to deal with but also endearing nonetheless.

How could I forget something like that?

Looking at the station clock, its hands seemed to move painfully slow. Taking lifetimes to reach the five thirty-eight mark. On the other hand, the esteemed crowd from earlier had displaced themselves where they were supposed to be. Leaving me lost and jaded at a memory that had long since faded. 

Truthfully, I no longer have the courage and strength to pick every bit and piece that used to be a part of me. I let it all wash away from the lonely shore and let it erase what used to be who I am. Yet from time to time, a photo would emerge and greet me as I stood in the infinite sands alone. Images of old crammy classrooms, buildings and statues mock me in silence as I had forgotten everything. Only to remind me once again of what I used to cherish and the foolish thinking of everything lasting forever. That and also the free rides the assigned windows give.

Now, it makes me wonder if it was ever like that to that estranged boy in those photographs? The commute, I mean. I am curious to know; Was he able to dodge the mangy currents of limbs easily? His height seems to suggest so. Towering so much at such a young age. It gives this sense that he was unreachable, untouchable and unattainable especially to someone like me. The aura he gives off as he perches above exudes mystery, intimidation and a strange selfish holiness. I imagine being that tall has a lot of privileges. To be able to see the world that no mortal could have. Or just easily avoid any unwanted circumstance if he wished to. It's unfair, really. Both him and Satoru. 

But God does not play favorites. In some way or another, in any shape or form it will come for you. To balance the rules of this reality, judgment will strike at any possibility. Cutting down both the fair and the unfair, continuously hunting down anyone it deems to be worthy of such. From the station platform where I stood to the streets of Shibuya, the supermarkets from the residential district and any place it wishes; there was no way to hide from it. Just like the sea of meat that ogles its new victim. But I guess he already knew that. Right?

Ah, since we're on that topic. What kind of sandwich would everyone be anyway? I just think it's funny since I am going to be one in a few minutes. I think, for one, I am probably like those cheap konbini ones that sometimes dupe you with no filling. Leaving you disappointed as you take your first and last bite. Why that of all things? Guess I am too small to even fill up the space, too insignificant but still ends up getting squished by the bread. 

Shoko would probably be like those freshly homemade ones. The type that rejuvenates the soul as they take a mouthful. The feeling of home that dawns on the crevice of their bones while gnawing on the crunchy lettuce and juicy tomatoes. And once the last bite takes place a sudden realization of life struck. They jolt back from their wake and once again walk to another reprieve. Ah, I miss her. I wonder if she still has that bad habit of smoking.

Satoru, on the other hand, would be those luxury ones that cost a fortune but leave you with a thought, 'That's it?' A wasteful value or some popular commodity that's hard to reach. Beautiful, intricate and praised all while the dreaded guilt binds the person in an awkward greed as they throw money away for just a simple taste. Sprinkle in gold and baby blue, they'll feel they mattered. Even though it's just a sandwich. Although, to carry such high prestige, one could only be proud for there is no replica that can copy such material. Thus becoming the greatest snack of all. I can't believe this guy is the same age as me. 

But the question is, what about him? The dark haired boy that lingers behind the shadow of the one and only Gojo Satoru. 

I suppose with his size and sense of morals, he would be one of those premium fast food chicken sandwiches. Where the bun can't hold him in place cause all the limbs will spill out from the sides along with its special sauce, creating such a goopy mess on your hands as you eat. But due to being the cheaper alternative than Satoru, hands are more eager to devour what it has to offer. Blinding and burning everyone who tasted his tender meat. Along with myself. Ha! It suits that boy, right? Right…

Giggling to myself, these silly little ideas brought genuine joy to my lips. The foreign warmth that spreads through my cheeks as my eyes form into crescent moons. I can't help but think, how long has it been?

Too busy investing in drawing crude pictures of human comparison to wheat delicacies, I had failed to notice the shadow of the looming casket over my very being. The cries of its brakes scratching at the conch of my ear ripped me from la la land all too suddenly. As if it was demanding my attention like a dog and their favorite toy. Except, instead of such an adorable view, it's replaced by a pristine, well kept wagon that regurgitates passengers from its belly. Of course, everyone around me had waited in anticipation for this moment. Too eager to leave this dreadful place and confine themselves in the better space of their home. Except for me.

With the same sentiment, I too readied myself as the last person left the metal doors. Lowering my gaze and refusing to meet any watchful eyes, I let my legs move in autopilot. After all, the thing that I have dreaded since the very beginning is coming to a climax. I could only pretend to be a criminal waiting for the noose and prostrating myself to an ever exaggerated ruin. But amidst such a forlorn play, a scent had caught my foot mid step. 

Candies, cigarettes, incense, and sandalwood. 

Such an odd combination painted the air like a wretched canvas and brought cold sweat onto my skin. The colors of red, blue, violet and yellow blurs around my vision while accompanied by a distinct joyous laughter, seemingly mocking me in my wake. The faint words of goodbyes and farewells also catches my attention as I suffer from gut retching nauseousness. 

As if I knew whose voices they were.

I covered my face with my own two hands as a hint of bile threatened the edge of my throat. Knocking me into a hunching posture, heaving in sudden agony. The raunchy taste of sharp yet tangy acid covered my palette in a short amount of time that it had me in tears. It did not help that I could feel onlookers watch with both worry and annoyance at my blocking form towards their so-called freedom. 

Forced to wave a feign OK, I unwillingly apologized for the mishap I had caused and stepped away momentarily from the line. Letting myself recuperate and expel the visceral sensation from my body with much cleaner air. Although, I can’t help a part of me be annoyed as well. Does this person not have etiquette at all?

Bugged by my consciousness, unable to let it go. I searched for the origin of such a revolting smell. Looking left to right not moving from my spot. Hoping to give a piece of my mind to their disturbing work of art. An artwork that for some reason I couldn't help but chase in strange yearning. But of course, with my luck, there was no one attached to its disembodied stench. The culprit had already fled the scene of the crime. Leaving me, the victim, vexed and perplexed. 

But based on the contents of the stupid fragrance, that person probably had an ingenious idea to spray such a strong perfume to get rid of the cigarette and incense attached to their person. Still, regardless of reason, my head lingers in the direction to wherever it may have come from. Even foolishly imprinting it in my lungs like a masochist. After all, it's absurd for that boy to — 

“Be here with you?” 

April fools is still two months from now. I am not sure if I know anyone who celebrates such a childish event other than Satoru. I doubt he’ll come for me in advance either. Our relationship hasn't been the best in these god awful years. The last notable conversation we both had was around December.

Surely this is just a small bout of insanity. A figment of my wild imagination conjured from my exhaustion. After all, weeks of overtime can do wonders to the brain. It explains my sudden obsession with sandwich analogies and weird feelings of extreme melancholy. Or…Wait. Don’t tell me the strange smell came from a curse? Was I afflicted by it? 

The more the people, the more negative emotions spill out. This platform is a perfect den to give birth to such abominable creatures. Especially with the amount of impoverished salarymen and women who often take this train, spilling their unwanted frustration and bitterness onto the floor tiles. That must be it. 

Confronting the glass window of the train, I braced myself for the sudden encounter. Clutching my sling bag close, a small cursed tool can be found deep in its pockets. Carefully tucked away for emergencies just like this. 

Thankfully, it's been drilled into my subconsciousness on procedures regarding random contacts: First, always confirm the target. Second, never forget to put a curtain. Third, exorcise it with caution. If worse comes to show, then there's the fourth option, run away and call for the real professionals. Whatever this creature is, even at my grade, I can handle it. Is what I believe.

Yet, it seems nothing can prepare me for the familiar silhouette staring back at me. 

Slightly obscured by the reflection of sandwiched passengers, there he stood in his full glory. Hair tied up in a neat knot with only a few stubborn clumps falling above his eyes. Ears pierced by deep black gems that glimmer under the artificial lights. Soft lips, ever so curtly forming into a thin smile as his obsidian eyes contorted into a tender gaze. Seemingly admiring the reflection of the both of us finally beside each other. He didn’t change at all. Still the same as I remembered.

“It's been a while hasn’t it?”

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

I knew from the bottom of my heart that this isn’t an amalgamation of people’s negative emotions. As foolish as it sounds even with Ms. Tsukumo’s explanation about curses and sorcerers, I knew with one look this is mine. I am cursed and this is my haunted house. Because here you are with me. Alone. Together on this platform, purposely making me miss my train home. 

“You never said goodbye.” 

Humming a low playful tune, he linked his slender finger gently with the small of mine as the subtle wind blew over us. Just with that small gesture, the orchestra nestled within me didn’t know what sheet to read. Too confused about what to play in front of its single audience. So Instead, to appease the lone watcher, it chooses to perform all of it at once. Anger, joy, sadness and everything in between. What a laughable performance. 

“I guess, I owe you an overdue apology.”

The drumstick hits the surface harder than it should, resonating through every crevice of my flesh with a loud bang. My head sharply turned to his direction, controlled by the awful strike. His nonchalant and unremorseful response baffled my consciousness. “Guess!? Am I a joke to you? Is that the only reason why you’re here? To give me pity?” 

Ten years, that’s how long since I’ve last seen his face. And all he could do is mock me with his boyish smile while giggling at my sudden outburst. How cruel can he be?

Filled with distrust, my body flinched as I watched his hand delicately tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. His eyes still filled with never ending adoration even as my body betrayed him. “So this is what you look like after ten years.” he said as he now traced my cheek, holding me in the palm of his hand as if time never separated us. "You haven't changed at all. Still very pretty." 

I hate this. I hate the feeling of such soft bass melting my skin into nothing but putty. Smoothing the creases of my face as I plead for more. How even such a simple yet cliche string of words dulls my senses and becomes high just from its mere echoes. Furious, I wish I could be at this moment but furious I was not. “You're insufferable, you know that?”

Chasing foolishly his warmth, my head leaned into his touch. Too starved from his affection. All while the course of the symphony in my heart changes its tune to match the sudden drops of tears from my very own lashes. "And I hate you." I said to him bitterly. 

Unfazed by those petty words, he only laughed again but this time more softly. “I know and you still love me for it.” 

With a small step, the boy hovered his immense stature over me with ease. Casting a long shadow on my form as if it was a cage I can’t escape from. I already know what he’s about to do so I only stood patiently like a good girl, ready for him to consume. 

“I miss you.” He prayed on my forehead. “I really miss you.” He whispered next, on top of my nose. “I really did.” He continued to edge at the corner of my lips, drinking my silent cries away. “And I still do now.” He said as he finally took my lips with his own. 

There we mended and molded back to each other's heated embrace. Hands desperately closing the space till there was none as we spoke in a language we both knew how to communicate.

Ever so gentle that he is, his tongue asks for my permission as we move further than just a simple dance of mouth. The wet sensation that swipes at the entrance had me reeling through my core as I let him do as he pleases. Basking in the warmth of him, the boy smiled as he conquered me. He knew I was easily intoxicated, how easily I get addicted and he knew the power he has over me. A special privilege only he could have. A privilege of having me.

However I am not the only one. The way his hand desperately moves over from my front and on to my back, rubbing at whatever clothed flesh he can latch on too. Dying for more skinship. Even the way his breath hitch and moan vibrated through my being, I could tell he too is drunk from this public display of debauchery. 

We were both hungry and that's the truth. But not in the sense of lust or desire but rather a deep yearning of forgiveness and loss of affection. Even our fervent moans turn to songs of devotion under the cathedral of us. My cries are the wine that cleanses his soul and his touch is the communion that renews my heart. Of course, such intensity always has an end. Too much and one could have drowned at the pits of insanity. 

So the second our lungs sync in need of oxygen, we parted our ways. Yet both our eyes still linger where our lips were once connected. Shamelessly wanting more than just a kiss but too embarrassed to share another. Instead with a compromise, our foreheads remained pressed together in content.

“Wow, public indecency? Really? You’re better than this.” The boy scolded mischievously, voice dripping in sweet childish passion. Very romantic.

Rolling my eyes, I broke from the intimacy. Just to slap his shoulder in retaliation. Knowing full well what his sense of humor is like, I laughed at his stupidity. “You’re the one who started it!” But even so, my cheeks couldn’t help turn into cherries as we continued our banter just like old times.

“Ow! Now, you're hitting me? That’s assault!” He whined, deliberately rubbing the harsh contact for emphasis. “I don't remember you being this mean!” Even adding a sprinkle of a pout to top off his shenanigans. Not gonna lie, it was cute to look at. But I won't let myself be swayed by his charming looks. So with gritted teeth, I said whole heartedly in jest. “I wish I could hit you more, you dumbass!”

After hearing that the plastered smile on his face seemed to grow playfully. My words had lit a fire within him. Laying down the school bag he carried on the ground, he spread his arms and puffed his chest for me to see. Apprehensive by his actions, I took a small step back and waited for his next move. Unsure what his true motives are. “Alright. I’ll let you. If you kiss the wound after.” He said jokingly.

Ah, I forgot how horny teenagers were…

Exhaling between my palms, a part of me wished to scream in silent frustration but that would honor him a win in this childish endeavor. Rather turning the tides to my favor, what better way to do than just simply comply to his own whims.

Winding my arm as far back as I can, there I summoned all the strength this body could muster at the edge of my fists. Fair and square I punched him straight in the face. Landing a mark on his apples while his pair of peaches lay splat on the floor as a look of utter shock adorned his sharp features. Of course, never in a million years the boy would think I could pull such a punch. After all, that wasn’t my forte to begin with. Jokes on him though, that was me from before and not the me of now. 

Before I could let him say a word, I crouched down to his level and left a tender kiss on his wound. Licking it for good measure. “Two could play that game.” I whispered, leaving a gentle blow to his now reddened ear. 

Putting a small distance, I observed my precious win. His face all heated up like a boiling kettle. It was his turn to cover his face. Gaze unable to straighten, looking anywhere else but me. It's such a delicious sight seeing him come undone by just mere strength alone. “Wh– when did you learn how to hit like that?” Oh, was that a stutter? 

A new sense of pride swells within as this is the first time I had an upper hand on him. Pursing my lips in feign innocence, I batted my lashes as cutely as I could. My head rested on the palm of my hand as a finger tapped in thought. “Who knows? It's been ten years since the last time we saw each other. A lot could happen.”

“That’s fair.” He sighed.

Rosy lips forming a thin line, he shuffled on the floor. Finding a more comfortable position sitting crisscrossed in front of me. Mimicking my earlier pose, his hand rested on his palm as well. Contemplating something within him as a tiny glint nestled its way to his marbles. Suddenly staring intensely at my figure, I blinked twice to decipher his actions. I presume it's another challenge? Or perhaps sulking under the weight of my victory? 

Yet a minute has passed by and no signs of unusual movement can be seen. Only continuing his unwavering gaze at my form. Still, I won’t back down for the next fight.  That is, until a loud horn and the sound of grinding wheels distract me from my spot. 

The next train had rudely arrived and it announced itself proudly in front of us, lowering my guard completely. To the scheming boy, this was his perfect opportunity. It was natural after all, when one sees an opening one would attack mercilessly. And that’s what he did. Stealing a small peck from my lips and holding two peace signs in front of my face. My eyes could only dilate from his actions as the grin grew as large as the half moon. “Gotcha. I win!” he said proudly. 

Too dumbfounded, I ended up bursting from laughter. Nodding my head I unanimously agreed to his victory and accepted my own defeat like a proper adult I am. “What do you want as a reward?” I asked, adoring his boyish facade that seemed to light up from something so trivial. “I’ve been giving a lot of kisses lately, I think it lost its value.” 

Humming in thought, the boy turned his head towards the train. Inspecting the unusual empty shell as if searching his deep darkest desire in its exterior. The bangs that covered his eyes gently sway from his movements as the glowing light from the fluorescent light cascades his porcelain skin. Framing his youth in a portrait that won't last. “Tell me a story then.” He said, looking back at me with the answer he had found. My palms could only turn to puddles as I anticipated his next words, a strange nervousness washed over me. 

“I want to hear everything that happened to you when we were apart.” 

“Okay.”

Is what I said as his hands now intertwined with mine while we sat properly on the platform bench. Our surroundings have long been abandoned ever since I missed my last train. I am not sure how many more passed by but there was no next wave of crowd that came from the entrance and exits. The whole area felt like it was our own little domain. Our own little ecosystem.

“Where do you want me to start?” I asked timidly. Knowing where all this was going. I am not a fool. It had already gnawed at the back of my head since the scent of his wafted through the air. 

“How about when you left the technical school?” he asked curiously. 

“Alright.” I said.

The moment I opened my mouth, stories flowed into the space we occupied. Transforming the scenery into a dream-like state found in one of those shoujo mangas. Blabbering this and that, and that and this. The text bubbles were empty yet its meaningful conversations reside in its containers for only our ears to hear. As pages turned to the next, our expressions filled each panel with comical laughter, shock, anger and tears. Together we both laid each other bare as our bodies mimed the years of what could have been. 

A part of me wishes this moment could last forever. But I knew that was impossible. God never plays favorites. All I could do is make the most of what was given. Savoring the comfort that is him. An image of my last spring. 

So I paused my words mid sentence, my body moved closer to his. This time it's my turn to trap him in my own little cage. Kissing his lips with the same intensity as the scorching sun. Biting, marking and clawing my way through a never ending longing, wishing more than I should. As words that are never spoken but only lingering between us leaves my mouth, I pray to his exposed skin: cheeks, ears, neck, wrist and palms all my shameless I love yous. 

With the wit of a hawk and sight of an owl, The boy had already noticed my silent fears dressed in growing affection. Manifesting them into words, he could only ask softly. “Tell me. Why won’t you say my name?” 

Frozen in place, I searched through his eyes what he had just said. As it sinks in, my brows furrowed, hoping for him to not inquire further. Yet what reflected back was his own silent plea. You are so cruel, you know that.

“I know.” he leaned in to whisper while his sharp nose nestled under my jaw. Always the mind reader this guy. “But I want to hear it from your lips.”

With such a request, I bowed my head in utter humiliation. Unable to look him in the eye. My lips quiver as I silently confess my sins to him. “If I say it, I feel like you’re gonna disappear again.” 

A faint touch raised my head to meet with him once more. The quiet desperation and the childish eagerness from earlier had disappeared. This time our kiss felt much slower and much sweeter. “Please look at me.” He begged. 

Yet I still refuse. 

As the stubborn man that he is, he continued haunting my lips. Tender touches became pleading ghosts and the blowing air cursed my trembling. “I need to hear it.” 

I could only peek from my lashes while my mouth shivers from the eerie peck that landed ever so lightly. Constantly being tempted like this just to adhere to his whims, I couldn’t help counting each one as he tried to make me submit. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

And at the seventh kiss, he deepened it.

My mind instantly went blank with the constant edging and the sudden ferocity of the kiss. All sense of control washes away, unable to restrain myself any further. I moaned his name in finality. The twist, the turn and the tap of each syllable at the chambers of my mouth felt freeing. I couldn’t hold back the tears that ran through my skin. Bawling like a lost child in front him. But he only embraced me in his arms, gently rocking us back and forth as I repeatedly called him over and over again. 

“Suguru. Suguru. Suguru.” 

“I am still here.” he said, breaking the evil spell that tormented me for such a long time. Catching all the photographs scattered in the ocean. One by one giving them back to me. It hurts. It hurts so much. 

“Why did you leave me?” 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“Why only Shoko and Satoru? Why not me?”

“Why didn’t you take me with you?”

Questions after questions flowed, aching for answers that I already knew but I wish I could hear from his own lips too. Punching him over and over his chest, I can’t seem to hate him. All I can do is accept what he has given. You’re so selfish. So unfair. 

Grabbing the next hit, he forced me to look him in the eye. The image that greeted me isn't the boy I once knew. Replaced by a man sculpted in righteous reverie, cloth cut from the edges of apathy. This man’s eyes are filled with never ending desires that seem to want to drown me in it. A strange thirst and hunger different from a beast, that no flesh and water can calm its currents.

This is a Suguru who I don’t know of. The Suguru I feared the most. The Suguru that I wish would turn back as I reached to him in my youth. But nonetheless the Suguru who I still ache for.

“I didn’t regret it. Only you.” he desperately professed as his fingers twitched at my skin. Seemingly wishing to touch more with the him of now and not the one from yesteryears. “I love you.” he said as he smiled from the bottom of his heart. “I still do and will continue to do so.” 

“Suguru.” Was all I could say. Not knowing what else to confess. 

I had been afraid to see the twenty-seven year old Geto Suguru till now. Too scared to confront the feelings that scattered on the lonely shore. Too scared that I would fall together with him too. I am too scared that my love is so deep that it will swallow everything in its path. But you’ve always known that, right? Of course you do. Cause you feel the same way too. 

Rubbing my eyes, tears still continued to fall. My snot also boldly joined along my skin. Mixing in with the currents under my lashes. It's so embarrassing to cry like this in front of Suguru but I can’t help it. Everything is too overwhelming and all I want is to be pampered in his loving arms. “Once again, you’re so insufferable and I love you so much.” 

Caressing my cheeks, he wiped my tears gently with his sleeves, even roughly getting rid of the sticky mucus that spilled out. He teased my whining. “You’ve only realized it now? You’re such a slow poke.” 

Ten years ago, he knew I would follow him to the ends of the earth. He knew we’ll both crash and burn. He knew it will be till death do us part. “But I didn’t want that to happen.” He said. “That would be too cruel even for me.” 

“You already are cruel, stupid.” Still sniffing away the sobs, I couldn’t help but retaliate the way I know how. 

“Oh? Says the girl, who’ll literally die for me.”

“Says the guy who already did, Dumbass.” 

Mouth forming into a thin line, Suguru sighed in defeat. “Touché.” 

Giggling childishly, even at that age he’s still the Suguru I love. The way his handsome face stayed the same, only this time more mature. His same old earrings are still there hanging tightly too and so are his stubborn bangs. Even when clothed in those sacred robes, it's undeniable that he’s still him. “My tall and very adorable dumbass.”

“Your tall and very adorable dumbass.”  He lovingly repeated back. 

Really, this is such a mess of a reunion. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Beep

Beep

Beep

Beep

Jolting back from my seat, I woke up from the sound of train doors signaling its final call for passengers. Hurriedly, my body moved towards it. Hoping to finally leave this place. The smell of sandalwood that once surrounded me fades gently through the air along with the cold harsh winter. In the next month spring will come and the Sakura trees will finally bloom. 

You really did meet your end in style. Fading like the last snow of winter. 

Farewell my beloved Suguru, I love you and happy birthday.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #getou x you #getou suguru x reader #getou suguru x y/n #getou suguru x you #geto suguru #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk angst #I love my baby girl so much that I write fics for him for the nth time #I should be writing a band au for Choso or F1 au for the whole jjk but urghhh #baby girl ur too much :(((

[midnightraine131]

Read on AO3

Fall of 2007

 

 

Echoes of whispers, blurred faces, sly smiles, and judging eyes looked down on her. Her petite figure sat in a small space on the steel bench along the long, dark hallway, waiting for two enormous doors to open and swallow her whole.

 

She closed her eyes, recalling the last moment, the last time she traced her fingers along the lines of his palm. She never begged; she never asked him to stay. She felt the tip of his fingers when she let go of his hand. No one ever guessed that would be the last time she felt his warmth.

 

Red lights,

 

Heavy pouring rain,

 

Angry fires devouring her love,

 

Screams in agony,

 

A body hitting the windshield of her car.

 

That was the end of the long, unforgettable summer night.

 

A nightmare happened a year ago.

 

Her eyes snapped open when she felt the presence of a man sitting beside her. He loosened the button of his well-pressed grey suit so he could sit comfortably. His blond hair was neatly swept back, with a thick mustache covering his upper lip. He didn’t start a conversation; he didn’t even look at her.

 

Silence covered the gloomy hallway; it was almost suffocating.

 

She wished the clock would stop ticking so she could run away as fast as she could. Her tired eyes focused on the wrist of the man beside her, watching as the third hand of the watch ticked, nearly approaching twelve. Would it stop if she glared at it? No, what foolish wishful thinking.

 

She scoffed at herself. Does this sound like desperation? Anyway, she's meeting her own end now. This day will dictate her future, and she already knows the answer.

 

It’s a losing battle; why does she need to fight more? Why does she still need to go through these painful trials over and over again? She doesn’t know anymore.

 

"Is something the matter?" the man finally spoke. A pair of big blue eyes stared back at her, kind and genuinely concerned.

 

She looked down at her shoe; it was black, flat, and the string was loose. Not the kind of shoe she would walk in every day. "Your watch, it's a Patek Philippe."

 

The man sighed and stretched his arm, his sleeves folding, revealing the watch wrapped around his wrist. He glanced at the watch in question.

 

"Do you reward yourself every time you win a case? Or do your clients give it to you as tokens?" she continued—no idea why she didn't answer his question.

 

His eyes widened in surprise, but he still proceeded to answer her question. "My work wasn't easy. If I win, I reward myself. If I lose, I give something away. And sometimes, some people give me things I never asked for."

 

"Fair enough. But I doubt you lose more than you win. I heard you keep beating those prosecutors' asses."

 

"I win, huh?" The man shifted his position so he could face her. He clasped his hands together, fidgeting with his thumbs as if one was wrestling the other in a match. "I would call it winning if my son doesn't condemn me more for taking over this case."

 

Annie scoffed again, placing her hand on her forehead to push a curtain of locks away from her face. Even people outside of the court could see the truth. She's tired of these people wearing neckties making her believe their lies.

 

The man smiled faintly, looking down at his fingers. "This morning, I had a talk with my son. He's almost the same age as you— you're probably a year or two older than him, and that spoiled brat is becoming a little troublesome too." He snorted before he continued, "He asked me why I must defend bad people. I told him everybody deserves a fair trial, and the defendant should be presumed innocent unless— she or he is proven guilty."

 

But I was. Am I?

 

Annie looked up at the man for the first time. Since this new attorney took over her case, she stopped looking at everyone's faces, she stopped looking at their clothes and their features. She lost her interest in everything. She then lost her faith.

 

The man cleared his throat. "You know I'm risking everything for this battle, and so is your father. He's spending every single dime of his fortune to save his only girl. Just in case you haven't heard, your father's company is on the brink of filing for bankruptcy so he could provide you a normal life after this case."

 

Annie observed his profile. She noticed his eyes; just by looking at him, she could tell he was a kind man. Deep blue eyes displayed genuine concern towards people like her. She had never seen that kind of eyes that can speak words in silence. Not everyone has that, even her father. Why does this kind man defend bad people like her?

 

"When your father came to my office and handed me an envelope, I was in awe. I had never seen a handwritten check for such a substantial amount. That sum was more than enough to cover my divorce settlement and provide my son and his older brother with a better life. I couldn't believe it." His mouth tugged upward slightly, though this time, it was a fake smile.

 

"Why are you saying these things to me?" she finally confronted.

 

"I'm just saying that being a father is more than it sounds like. Our wives might call us assholes on a daily basis, but when it comes to our children, we'll make sure to give everything, risk everything, and if we are privileged, we can buy one's dignity just to provide what's best for our children, even if they messed up. We'll fix the problem for them, like when you were young and had a broken toy. Sure, even if we're dead tired from work, we'll drive to the hardware store to buy glue and pull an all-nighter to fix it, so when you wake up, your toy is as good as new again."

 

He paused, searching for words on the tip of his tongue. They both spent a brief moment in silence before he continued again. "Your dad's doing this for you. This is how much he loves you."

 

"I don't deserve it."

 

The man shook his head disapprovingly, but he knew there was no way he could change her perspective. "You may think of it that way. Yes, you were wrong. Yes, you made a mistake. Indeed, it cost one man's life. But you—" He pointed at her chest where her heart is. "You lost someone you loved that night, too, and you can't bring him back anymore. But your dad thinks he still has a little time to save you. So he could keep you. That's how much he loves you."

 

He looked up at the ceiling, pausing in that position as if dreaming of a different reality. Then he spoke, "As for me, this will be my last case before I retire. Whether I win or lose, it doesn't matter. I have nothing to lose anymore. Although, I'm giving up the chance for my son to forgive me."

 

Annie heard footsteps clicking on the marbled floor of the hall, and the legal approached them, grabbing their attention. " The gods of guilt have spoken."

 

"Right, let's go. The jury is back." He tapped her back as he stood up and buttoned his coat. Annie stood up after a few heartbeats, her legs trembling as if they were walking her to the guillotine.

 

The man opened the door for her, and the bright lights and scrutinizing eyes welcomed her into the room. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to throw up and pretend to pass out, so she wouldn't have to witness the end of it.

 

She sat down at the defense panel, beside the man she had been talking to on the bench. Silence fell in the room, and she felt like the room was becoming smaller and smaller, with the walls closing in and faces becoming more recognizable. She couldn't tolerate it anymore.

 

"The defendant may stand."

 

She complied, along with the man beside her, pouring all her energy into her wobbling legs. Though her mouth was dry, she tried her best to swallow the lump in her throat.

 

"You may read the verdict."

 

Her eyes drifted to her left, watching as the foreperson stood among the jurors. Not a single soul moved, and the foreperson cleared his throat before beginning.

 

"In the matter of the State of New York vs..."

 

Annie wanted to scream.

 

"...on the charge of Second-Degree Felony Vehicular Homicide causing the death of..."

 

Her hands balled up the orange fabric on her legs, and she watched as her knuckles turned white.

 

"...we find the defendant..."

 

How could she live her life after this?!

 

...

 

Don't

 

...

 

Say

 

"...not guilty."

 

Annie's sight blurred as warm tears streamed down her cheeks.

 

Unfair.

 

It's unfair.

 

It's really unfair!

 

She should have been punished!

 

Silhouettes began to swarm around her. Some were tugging at her, pulling her into a hug, and others were tapping her shoulders. Then she recognized Pieck pushing other people aside to get closer to her. Annie could see a similar puffiness in the brunette's eyes. Pieck raised her hands and used her slender fingers to wipe Annie's tears from her cheeks. She muttered something, but Annie couldn't discern it since her eyes were fixed on the papers being shoved into a black leather bag—her case files.

 

That's right! My case files!

 

 

 

“My case files!” she slurred.

 

She felt the weight on top of her, golden blond strands tickling her cheeks. She could smell his shampoo. Shit.

 

He grunted, "Annie, you're sleep talking." He shifted his head to the opposite side, away from her face. "What case files? I want to sleep more." he talked, half asleep.

 

"Armin?"

 

"Hmm?"

 

"Your hard-on. It's poking my legs." She pretended to suppress a laugh, masking the worry creeping inside her. "Don't tell me you're asking for another round?"

 

He buried his face deeper in her sheets, ears turning a bright shade of red. "Annie! Stop teasing me! It's natural for guys to have a standing ovation in the morning." He muffled.

 

Contented with her teasing, she brushed his hair with her fingers, kissing the sensitive skin of his shoulder. She noticed bite marks on his skin. Seems like they really went rough this morning. Who knows? She's too tipsy to remember.

 

"You should worry if it doesn't poke you anymore." He struck back.

 

"If it doesn't poke me anymore, I would assume it's poking someone else already." She sang in playful tease.

 

His head rose from hiding from the sheets, and his face was embarrassingly flustered. "I'm not that kind of guy!"

 

"I know, I know." She rained him with pecks of kisses across his cheeks to his mouth when suddenly his phone rings.

 

He retrieved his phone from the pool of white sheets. As his hand emerged from beneath her thick comforter, Connie’s name illuminated on the screen. He tapped to answer on speaker.

 

Jean’s voice greeted him, “Armin, I swear if you're still in bed—”

“We're on our way to pick you up,” Connie interrupted.

 

“Okay, I’ll be ready in a minute. Connie, can you—”

 

“Let me guess, two Advils,” Connie finished his sentence like an automatic answering machine.

 

Annie continued to peck him with kisses. Armin tried to stop her by covering her mouth with his palm. She took his wrist to pull his hands away from her mouth and laughed softly. Armin bit his lower lip as he tried to hold back his chuckle, revealing his pristine white teeth, and mouthed “Stop.”

 

"Hey, do you think we can't hear you two?" Jean confronted them over the phone.

 

Armin gestured, putting his index finger in front of his mouth, and whispered, "Shhh," before talking on the phone. "Also, can you get me a Gatorade?"

 

Jean clicked his tongue and talked to Connie, making sure Armin and Annie could hear him. "Connie, could you schedule Armin to go to church this Sunday? Your boss needs Jesus sometimes."

 

Armin put his phone in front of his mouth and playfully said, "Bye Jean, Bye Connie."

 

"What– we're picking you up right now-"

 

Armin hung up the phone and playfully glared at Annie before he forced himself to stand up and run towards the bathroom. "I need to hurry, or Jean will kill me."

 

Annie watched his back disappear into her bathroom. She listened as he turned on the shower. Her hands involuntarily picked up her laptop from the side table to check her emails. She had received three from Eren, and Annie swore she needed to extensively rewrite his entire articles. He wasn't bad; Eren was quite a good writer, but instead of focusing on the facts, he forced his personal opinions into his topics. Annie sighed and dragged Eren’s articles to a separate folder to edit later.

 

Then she logged into Teams.

 

Annie Leonhart: Good morning, Hitch.

 

Hitch Dreyse: …

 

Hitch Dreyse: Hi boss, what do you want?

 

Annie Leonhart: Can you drive to the bakery shop on Broadway?

 

Hitch Dreyse: Why? No time to make breakfast at home this time?

 

Annie Leonhart: ...

 

Hitch Dreyse: Let me guess, you’re probably naked on your bed after an intense night with your little prosecutor?

 

Annie Leonhart: Shut up, I’ll send you my orders, and you can grab something for yourself and the rest too. I think only you, me, Pieck, and Eren will be at the office today. Everyone’s deployed to cover the press conference.

 

Hitch Dreyse: Noted.

 

Annie could imagine Hitch’s grunts and complaints over a single word. She then proceeded to type down all her orders. The usual sugary, diabetic set of caramel flans, chia pudding, and raspberry pistachio cups. Annie also ordered banana pudding and Belgian chocolate-covered strawberries for Adeline just in case she became difficult in the office later. Annie could at least bribe her with some sweets.

 

Annie could hear Armin emerging from her bathroom. As soon as he opened the door, Annie slowly closed her laptop and looked up at him. But as soon as her eyes fell on him, her jaw dropped.

 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, noticing her reaction.

 

“Armin, are you seriously wearing that?” Annie shook her head, looking at him from head to toe. He’s back with his yellow cardigan and black skinny slacks. His hair is down flat, still damp from the morning shower. “I can’t believe you're best friends with Jaeger, and he hasn’t influenced you with some sense of style.”

 

“What?” he chuckled, “I'm just giving a speech, not trying to look like Ashton Kutcher on a Netflix series.” He started to button his sleeves when Annie scooted to the foot of the bed so she could reach him, leaving the comforter crumpled in one corner. Her toned body was now exposed in the morning light, and Armin's eyes drifted to her white bra and panties, then to her face. He blushed at how pretty she looked in the morning.

 

“Armin,” she called, “Take my hairdryer and hairspray from my vanity. Let me help you with your hair.”

 

He gave her a confused look but still complied. Once he came back, Annie tapped the sheets beside her, signaling him to sit beside her, and he followed suit. She kneeled on the bed so she could see the crown of his head. Armin curved his back, lowering his head and using his elbow to support his weight on his knee, making it easier for Annie to reach the top of his head.

 

His eyes wandered back and forth over her abs, her belly button piercing, and her white underwear as she worked on drying his hair. He closed his eyes and bit his lower lip to resist the temptation.

 

When his hair was completely dry, Annie turned off the hairdryer and took the hairspray with her left hand, while the other worked on brushing up the golden blonde locks.

 

Armin moved his head toward her, “I don't want my hair too neatly swept up. I'd look like my dad.”

 

“I'd be scared if you didn't look like your dad,” she said, continuing to work on his hair, spraying, brushing, and blowing on it, and spraying again.

 

“Hey, calm down there. These things release chlorine atoms!” He struggled to break free from her and took the spray bottle from her to check its contents, his eyebrows narrowing. “I don't want to risk damaging the ozone layer just to look good on TV for one day.”

 

Annie chuckled, “The whole of America will be watching you today, you nerd. Next time, I'll buy CFC-free hairspray for you so you don't need to worry about Mother Earth. Anyway, I'm done.”

 

He looked back at her and put his index finger just below his nostrils, mimicking a mustache. Then he pouted and ballooned his cheeks. “Do I look like my dad now?”

 

She chuckled, took his hand, and led him towards her vanity. She tiptoed to rest her chin on his shoulder as they both looked in the mirror at his appearance.

 

His bangs were brushed up to the right, exposing his left thick eyebrow and forehead, accentuating the beautiful features of his face and making him look more mature.

 

“You look too good to wear just a cardigan,” she commented, tapping his arm. He turned to her as her hands traveled to the collar of his polo, trapping the yellow fabric between her fingers and slowly sliding it down his arms. Armin tugged the sleeves to free his hands from the cardigan, and he did the same with the other hand. Their eyes locked as Annie reached out to snatch the cardigan from his hand and disregard it on the floor. “Come on, suit up,” she whispered.

 

She held his hand and led him to her walk-in closet, where a garment bag was hanging in one of the cabinets. The garment bag Jean had brought for him yesterday. She unzipped the bag, revealing well-tailored Hall Madden suits. There were three suits inside the bag, but Annie chose the one made of Herringbone in grey with a raven-black gabardine collar.

 

She carefully took it out of the bag and helped him put it on. She admired her masterpiece, looking up at him. She couldn't believe the man standing in front of her looked like a prince. “Now I believe the suit is the lawyer’s best armor.”

 

He turned to the mirror, his mouth agape. He couldn't believe how good he looked after the makeover.

 

"I wouldn't be surprised if some Hollywood journalists throw their panties on the podium," she commented.

 

He chuckled, "Impossible. I only have my eyes on one journalist I know."

 

She smiled, "You're an expert in flirting now?"

 

"I learned from you." He held her waist, pulling her body close to him. His eyes studied her neck, his fingers tracing her collarbone. It would be nice if she wore jewelry around her neck, he thought.

 

Then he took her hand and kissed the tip of her fingers before he caught her ring finger. Staring at it as if remembering every detail of it. Then he proceeds to lower his head and Annie meets him halfway, but before their lips meet, Annie licks his lips playfully. Armin was surprised but opened his mouth to welcome Annie's tongue to explore. He tugged at the strap of her bra and pulled it down to her shoulder. She just started deepening their kiss when a loud honking echoed in their ears. Pulling them back to their reality.

 

"That should be Jean!" he exclaimed, pulling away from their kiss, leaving her swollen lips exposed to the air. He retrieved the shirt he had worn the night before and threw it at her. She quickly put it on.

 

Then he stumbled to his suitcase, opened it, took out a brown LV watch case, and swiftly unbuckled the lock, revealing three high-end wristwatches. Annie's eyes locked onto the one in the middle, a rose gold Nautilus, a watch reminiscent of her dreams—she remembered the Patek Philippe her lawyer wore in court.

 

He noticed her frozen, standing like a statue, and walked back to her while putting on the chronograph Breguet Tradition on his wrist. Her eyes were still fixed on the watch case.

 

"Annie, is something wrong?" he observed.

 

"Armin, I have something to ask you." She clenched her fists. "Yesterday, you mentioned the death of your friend—"

 

Armin's eyes focused on her, and Annie noticed his pupils dilating slightly. She couldn't tell if it was due to the poor lighting in her walk-in closet or if he was growing tense.

 

She dropped her gaze and stared at her toes. "How did you know that the killer was driving a McLaren?"

 

Armin clenched his jaw. "What's with this question?"

 

"Just answer me, God damn it." Annie's eyes began to burn, but she didn't let him see it.

 

Armin sighed, narrowing his eyebrows. "My dad took over the case, as much as I hate to admit it. He counseled the defense."

 

"What did you know about the killer? Have you seen the case files?"

 

Armin shook his head. "No, knowing my dad, he will keep all his case files until his grave." He paused and gathered his courage. "All I know is that the defendant was a blonde, rich girl named Tiffany."

 

In just a few seconds, Annie's hands grew cold as she was transported back in time. Memories rushed back to her like scenes from a film reel.

 

She found herself back in the dark, gloomy hallway of the courthouse.

 

Standing before her was a man with neatly combed golden-blond hair and a mustache, his kind ocean-blue eyes fixed on her.

 

The man, Attorney George Arlert, turned to her and said, "You can do me a favor—"

 

Live a new life as a new person,

 

Love the person you will soon meet on the streets,

 

Laugh when people ask you about your history because— you don't have a reason to answer.

 

Desert your past life

 

...Because you are not Tiffany; you are—

 

Annie Leonhart

#aruani fanfic #aruani fic #aruani fanfiction #aruannie #aruani #armin arlert #annie leonhart #annie leonhardt #armin arlelt #annieleonhardt #arminarlert #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #hidinginplainsight

[rubberduckyrye]

I did check the blog of the person who did made the continuation to flowerfell that had Sans getting married with Frisk and them having children a while ago and it turns out they’re displeased with that the one flowerfell video because said video had misinterpreted their words and involvement huh

Also I did came across on a post of someone contacting a former friend to flowerfell’s creator and they did confirmed that the creator actually made ship content for the au, Plus another user claimed that creator also liked the sans x frisk flowerfell shimeji that they made and sent to them as well

I mean I'm not surprised--the video really is spreading misinformation like the plague. Unfortunately I don't think any video has been made to counter it sadly, so it's been unchallenged for ages now. So antis have been spreading the false information further and further--to the point where even if I did make a huge ass post debunking the video, or even managed to scrounge up the energy to make a video debunking it myself, that the damage might be irreparable.

But yeah--there's no surprise there. It sounds like a right mess of misinformation spreading like wildfire.

It really sucks, because like--I get that the creators of Flowerfell were victims of shit too, but to call out the misinformation spreading also means to condemn them as well. Especially since they were very anti-kin and honestly way too controlling over how people RPed as the characters from the AU. They really didn't understand what having a "fandom" meant, and they tried to Anne Rice it up and got laughed at for it.

Like I do think any harassment sent their way was bad, but they were not innocent victims either. They were being assholes to people for no reason other than their own insecurities as writers.

#flowerfell #frans #man anons going OFF tonight about this dnsajdnajkda #Sorry to the people in the Flowerfell tag looking for art as I consistently yell into the void about how the misinformation #of what actually happened to the AU #floods your tags #unless you're an anti and one of those people saying it wasn't a ship AU #and you think shippers ruined the AU and the creators were innocent victims #then please kindly block me

[yusuke-of-valla]

throw away your mask (and then what's left?)

Or:

Ren: My girlfriend took my other girlfriend in the divorce

AO3

Despite it supposedly being nearly spring, Ren’s cold when he gets back to Leblanc. When he’s there, Sojiro is nowhere to be seen, and Haru and Kasumi are sitting in a booth together, holding coffees.

“Oh? Is it just going to be all three of us tonight?” Ren asks. “Am I going to beat the cold with some curry and cuddling with my two lovely girlfriends?”

Instantly he knows something is wrong. Haru’s face is completely neutral, and Kasumi won’t look him in the eyes.

“What? Too cheesy?” He asks, trying to break the tension that’s got the cafe in a vice grip.

“Do you remember when I told you about my nightmares about my father?” Haru asks.

“Yeah, ‘course. Did you have another one?”

“Something like that.”

“Seriously, what’s going on?” Ren asks.

“Haru-chan and I were talking,” Kasumi says, “about how, you know, growing up I used to think it would be so much better if my sister wasn’t around.” She chuckles. “Awful, right?”

“I don’t think that’s–”

“I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her, I just thought if I could match someone without being a matched set, people wouldn’t decide they wanted her all the time instead of me. Guess they were right to be disappointed with me, since apparently I'm the stupid one, since even my boyfriend prefers her over me, and he’s never even met her!”

“Kasumi–” 

“My name is Sumire,” she snaps. 

Huh. It’s been so long since aren't experienced genuine dread he doesn’t immediately recognize the twisting sensation in his stomach.

Haru’s glaring daggers at him too.

“How’d you find out?” He asks.

“We all thought something was wrong,” Haru says. “We talked it out, then we remembered. Then Akechi told us about the deal. We wanted to hear it out of your mouth.”

“...is it really so bad living in Maruki’s reality?” Ren asks. “I mean, Sumi, you got what you wanted anyway.”

“You will call me Sumire,” she says. “And you were there when I changed my mind and wanted to live as myself.”

“Did you really? Or did you just think you had to?” Ren says. “Maybe we were wrong! Society’s always telling us that we have to suffer to learn lessons, that it’s the proper way to do things, but that’s bullshit! Haru it wasn’t fair that your father died, he was just collateral damage of someone else’s scheme! And Sumire you killed your sister! Do you really want to live with that?”

Sumire flinches, and Haru puts a hand over hers. 

“No one wants to live with pain, Ren,” Haru says. “But it’s preferable to this.“

“Why? Is that fair to everyone else in Tokyo? Or the people who were brought back, they’re the same as if they never died, you’d just be killing them again!” 

“I’ve already lived my life under the control of my father, I don’t want anyone else to have the power to decide what’s going to make me happy but me,”

“Maruki is not your dad,” Ren says, “he’s a good person, he means well, he’s not—”

“WE’RE NOT TALKING ABOUT MARUKI!” Sumire shouts suddenly. “We’re not talking about him, or this reality, or if it’s fair to everyone else! We’re talking about the fact that you made this decision without talking to us!”

Haru nods. “We already rejected this reality, and without consulting us you tossed us back in and made us forget that anything was wrong. And I know you think Maruki means well, and he probably thinks he means well, but how well-meaning can he be if he opted to continue condemning Sumire-chan to play act as Kasumi instead of bring her back?!“ Haru adds, getting more and more worked up. “Oh but even then I’m reading too much into it, aren’t I? Well I’m not as stupid as you think I am. If you actually cared about us or any of the things you were talking about you would have discussed it with us before taking the deal or even brought it up throughout Maruki’s Palace but you didn’t because you agreed, all the way up until something that affected you personally came up right?”

Haru’s gripping her mug so tightly that Ren thinks it’s about to crack. “I’d yell at you for choosing my father’s murderer over me, but that’s not fair is it? Because Akechi is just as angry as I am, so you really didn’t choose him either? You chose yourself.”

“I mean, it fits, doesn’t it?” Sumire adds. “You did teach me to be more selfish, senpai, so I guess I’ll have to give you points for consistency! But you know, the thing is just because it’s alright to be selfish doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences.”

If Ren were in their shoes, he wouldn’t take a hollow apology, especially now that they’re so far gone.

“So what will you do now?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sumire says, “we’re going to finish what we started. If you like it so much, we’ll see if there’s a way we can leave and you can stay here. We won’t force you to fight him if you really prefer… all this.”

“It won’t work,” Ren says. “It’s been too long, he’s too powerful now. You’ll die.”

“I’ve already died once resisting the will of a self-proclaimed god, I don’t mind doing it again,” Haru says. “Besides isn’t that the best outcome for you? He’ll kill us and bring us back with no memories and you can continue on like none of this ever happened.”

“Haru, I don’t want that!”

“Why not? Didn’t you just say the versions of dead people are exactly the same as they were in our reality beyond being alive? So you shouldn't have anything to worry about!”

“That’s not–”

“Is killing us and replacing us a step too far? You’ll let him wipe our memories after we poured our hearts out to you explaining why we wanted to go back, but that’s where you draw the line?”

“I–” Ren doesn’t know what to say. “I didn’t want any of you to suffer.”

“We were already suffering,” Sumire says. “God these past few months, I thought I was crazy. Feeling wrong, looking at myself in the mirror and thinking my face is different. The others have too. We all felt like we were forgetting something. But we didn't say anything because ‘Ren said it was probably fine, just finals anxiety. Obviously Ren wouldn’t lie. Obviously Ren cares about us.’ Can you really care about someone if you don’t trust them to decide what would make them happy? If you don’t listen to them when they say this isn't what they want?”

Ren’s silent. He usually has a million and one ideas for things to say, but now? Nothing.

“I don’t particularly care if someone promises they’ll wield that power well,” Haru says, “you’ve made it abundantly clear that one person can not be trusted to have control over the lives of everyone in Tokyo.” She gets up and hands Sumire her coat, all in one elegant motion.

“...you know what’s worst?” Haru asks as they reach the door. “Despite it all, I can’t truly wish harm on you.”

And they disappear into the cold.

#alto writes #p5r spoilers #p5r bad ending #whumptober 2023 #i've been waiting all month for this one lol #I feel like i shouldn't tag the ships tho idk if people looking for the tags will want to see it #angst #break ups #mentioned death

[galactic-feelins]

It Was The Night Of The Meteor Shower

Inspired loosely by a prompt, Danny’s friends and family did not survive the events of The Ultimate Enemy. Knowing what he could’ve been, he decides to find his own way through his grief. Although the ghosts of future are dealt with, he now uncovers ghosts of past, and it seems he misunderstood the ghosts in the present.

Pov: Danny going through quite possibly the worst week of his life whilst reliving the worst days of his life.

Link to prompt!

I’ve been thinking back on life lately. Like, was any of that a dream, or was it too real?

- - -

The lab in the basement was always a little unnerving to be in. Exposed wires on unfinished projects, cables running haphazardly across the ground, loose tools scattered everywhere, honestly it’s always been a mess at best. If this were a well known work place, our house would’ve definitely been condemned by now! Walking in now, I immediately regret my decisions up till now. Mom and dad’s latest project may be a bust, but they clearly haven’t cleaned up after they were done!

“Woah! Watch your step there!” Tucker jokes, but this isn’t the first time the floor has been covered in some mysterious substance, let alone a step on the stairs. At least Tucker and Sam seem to be enjoying themselves while I’m stuck with keeping them safe, but what are friends for? “Promise you won’t touch anything in here?” It may be obvious, but I have to ask!

Sam tisked at me sarcastically. “Psh, yeah, I was planning on drinking from mysterious flasks myself. Maybe chew on some cables or steal something radioactive.”

“Sam, I don’t think there would be anything radioactive in here! Danny lives just upstairs from here, wouldn’t he get poisoned if there was?”

“Cable,” I pointed out, just as Tucker was about to trip right over an extension cord, pulling him back for good measure. “Look, I know! Technology, cryptozoology, general weird cyber-goth stuff; I get it! But this stuff is dangerous! You’ve gotta trust me here!”

Sure, they understood of course, but it’s not like they were as serious about it. I’ve lived with this, I know how dangerous the equipment here can be, and I know you need to approach everything here with extreme caution. Maybe that’s why they figured they are safe here with me. Maybe they think I can protect them. I honestly have no idea where they got the idea I could protect anyone.

I could see Tucker shaking, trying so very hard not to pick up the gizmos and gadgets littering the lab to look at closer, but it’s for his safety he doesn’t touch them. I keep an eye on him the most, since Sam is only taking pictures with the camera she brought. I think she brought it so we could work on some project for school, but honestly making memories is more fun. Well, more fun when it’s not in your parents’ ghost hunting lab, anyway. I was watching Tucker lean to look at another side of some kind of circuit board when I heard from Sam again.

“Hey wait! Danny, you have a suit?”

“Ah- maybe? Huh?” Startled, I shot to attention to find Sam picking up a black and white jumpsuit. “Wh- hey!” 

I rush over to snatch it from her hand. It’s safe, clean in fact, and mostly unworn. The jumpsuit itself may not be dangerous, but it’s definitely a blow to an already fragile ego. I hold it out to try and fold it back up properly, but then I hear a click-snap. The camera shutter makes me flinch and I can’t help but glare at Sam.

“Oops?” Sam grins mischievously, brightly, and knowingly. “Hey! Maybe you can try it on!” I really didn’t want to, and she could see it. Sam followed up her request. “Please? I just wanna see it! I’m sure it looks good on you!”

I sigh, knowing defeat and knowing it’s a fairly innocent request. I can wear a jumpsuit fine, and I know it’s tailored to fit me. Heck, maybe it’ll be easier to prevent disasters if I’m protected too! So I step away to put it on over my clothes, listening in on their conversation about the portal itself. Ugh, the portal.

“So they really made a portal?”

“Supposedly, yeah! His parents really seem to believe it could work!”

“But why? We don’t even know if ghosts are real!”

I zip up the front and walk back over to rejoin the conversation, only to find Tucker leaning in closer. He seems to be listening to the hum of machinery. To be honest, it is a nice sound, pretty calming at times, but it can get annoying and usually indicates something live and active. I pull him away by the shoulder as I chime in.

“Well, I think they tried this in college too. Whatever results they found must’ve proven it in their heads that this could work.”

Sam starts snickering, but I can tell by the look she’s giving me that it’s not something I said. In fact, I know exactly what it is. Without saying anything, she walks over and rips off a huge decal of dad’s face from my chest. Honestly, good riddance. I’m sure dad wouldn’t mind a little defacing, as a treat.

“Oh! Idea!” Tucker snaps and points to me as he continues. “We should get a picture of you in the portal like that!”

“Oh yeah!” Sam chimes in. “Yeah in the hollow space there! With you in the suit, standing in front of all of this machinery here, it would look so cool and, maybe even professional!”

Well, it is an interesting idea, and it would look pretty cool. I agree! The jumpsuit has a hood and goggles to protect your scalp and eyes respectively, but we’re not doing anything except posing for a picture. It would look better without the hood anyway, so I leave it down. With that, Sam and Tucker get in position further away while I step inside.

I’ve never been so close, let alone inside of one of my parents’ inventions. Walking in feels surreal. The lights, dots, and lines running across the walls and ceiling are vast and interwoven, and yet so organized and strategically oriented. It’s like one massive circuit board with so many mechanical bits exposed. Clearly this part of the portal wasn’t meant to be seen. As I’m looking around, I feel something hit my foot as I try to take another step, sending a jolt up my spine in a panic. I feel myself lose balance and instinctively I stumble to catch myself. My hand lands on something, usually it would be fine to hold the wall, but in this case I feel something give under my palm. The hum of the portal grows louder, something whirs to life around me, and taking my hand off the wall reveals a button that reads “on” just below it. Realization hits, and I look to Sam and Tucker, but it’s too late. The last thing I see is their panic reflecting mine, before a sharp pain in the back of my neck introduces itself.

- - -

I woke up on the floor. Reality spun for a bit, and I wasn’t sure where I was. I could feel I was laying on some kind of concrete, and I almost thought I was in the lab again. It would’ve been an easy mistake, but I remember now.

I’m in a warehouse, in some city I’ve never known, and I am alone. Sitting up, I rub my hand through my hair, taking a moment to remember where I am and why. I am here because I, Daniel Fenton, am running for my life. Some strange ghosts have been popping up more and more frequently lately, and they’ve been chasing me far more aggressively than any ghost I’ve ever met. Not even Skulker is as bad as these guys! 

In the beginning, there weren’t that many, so they were easy to handle. It was always so strange that they made sounds but never spoke, and they seem to follow pure instinct and emotions. These ghosts don’t banter, have no obvious obsessions, and sometimes I see weird tattoos on them. In fact, there seems to be multiples of them, like blob ghosts. I could fight them off for a while, and I could stop them from attacking random people. A lot of ghost hunters got their infamy and fame for getting rid of these guys too, so it wasn’t that big of a deal. Now, however, it feels like swarms of them are tracking me down at all times. 

Just as I was thinking I could never get a rest from them, I feel a chill and see an icy trail of smoke leave my mouth. It seems it’s time to get moving again. I stand and slap myself in the face for a quick burst of energy before transforming. Almost as if on queue, the shadows cast on the ground rise into solid shapes, puffs of black smoke appear and strange knight looking guys drop in the smoke’s place, and all of their beady yellow eyes stare back at me with what I’ve come to understand is killing intent.

Knowing where they are now, I bolt in the opposite direction, flying straight through walls and ceilings, getting as far from my assailants as possible. These guys are persistent, but it seems most of them don’t know how to fly. Problem is, some do. Once I’m outside, I catch sight of some more of the strange ghosts, these ones winged and colorful. “Are the wings really necessary?” No response, as always. It seems there’s only about, say, 7 total? At least 3 different shapes at a glance. Since they’re in the air, it’s probably safe to say a few ecto-blasts should take care of them no harm done!

A bit of blasting, a bit of punching, a few scratches here and there, and the numbers start dwindling! Sometimes after hitting them enough, they’ll poof and turn into weird heart shaped cores, so I stuff them in the thermos! I can’t exactly dispose of them anywhere, not anymore especially, so this thing is getting a bit crowded. The good news is I don’t try to stuff every ghost I see in there. In fact, the number of flying guys has increased dramatically over time already, so I figured I gotta leave again. 

Of course they followed me. I tried to stop somewhere for a moment when I thought I got enough distance, but there they are! In the distance! Flying towards me! From this vantage point, it’s easy to see just how many of them there are total. I see the ones from inside the building scrambling out, and I can see many more from the shadows and side streets all skittering out as a crowd. “Oh boy,” here we go again.

- - -

Back then, I woke up to a weird feeling that has since become normal. Everything was light and tingly, and yet so, so weak. I could hear shouting, though too muffled to understand right away. When I finally tried to open my eyes, there was a red flashing, giving way to a green glowing light occasionally. When I came to, I saw Tucker and Sam’s faces, panicked and every crying, yelling and begging for me to say something or give a sign that I was ok. I didn’t feel ok, but I tried at least sitting up at the time.

White hair, white gloves, black suit. There might have been a decal, something tells me there wasn’t, but the decal looks cool enough it might as well have always been there. With help I stood up, and we found our way to a mirror so I could see the damage for myself. I was glowing, but not in a figurative way, but more in the way a hot iron will glow white with heat, or maybe how some toxic goo would glow like a vat of glow-sticks. There were my eyes, staring back like green neon signs on a horribly scratched up sign. As I began to panic, I watched my face twist in the mirror into something else, which only made me panic more. The more I panicked the less human I looked, and the less human I looked the more I panicked, but Tucker helped ground me again. Sam comforted me and had me take deep breaths. Before I knew it, I was myself again, black hair and all. Life had never been the same since that day. The way everyone else in Amity Park know it, that was the night of the meteor shower.

- - -

I finally found another moment’s rest. Ironically, it was the presence of another ghost that calmed my nerves. Unfortunately it was Skulker that decided to stop by.

“Well, you sure are far from home, aren’t you?”

“Can you really say I have a home anymore? You know what happened.”

Of course Skulker knew. He smiled knowingly before thankfully changing the subject. “Those shadow ghosts really have it out for you huh? They should really know their place!”

“Heh, yeah, I wonder what I did to piss so many off them off like this!”

“Oh, what didn’t you do!”

Admittedly, he got a laugh out of me. Feeling a bit more at ease, I sit down on a dumpster nearby. Skulker can make himself comfy on his own. I can’t help finding it strange that Skulker is the only other ghost I know that’s approached me so far. I have been running for a few weeks now, so I have gotten pretty far from the ghost portal, but even then there are other ghosts out there! And yet, it almost feels like everyone’s avoiding me. Skulker is the only one that I’ve been able to confide in lately.

“So what do you think their deal is?” I don’t wanna change the subject yet. I have had plenty of time with these guys and I wish I knew what they’re doing.

“You think I would know? You think I would send them after you like that?”

“What? Nah! You hunt alone don’t you?”

“Exactly that, welp! I don’t need any hounds chasing you and herding you to me! I can and will catch you on my own terms!”

“Oh goodie. Always wanted to be mounted on a wall.” The sarcasm might’ve been lost on Skulker, but it helps me stay calm.

“Maybe some day, but today is not that day! I need you in top performance before I can hunt you down proper! For now, I will help you in your time of need. Hunter’s honor.”

“Hunter’s honor…” I respond a little quieter, honestly not sure if that’s a thing. Something about it feels less like a promise, and more like camaraderie. I suppose I could have been considered a hunter, but, “I can’t be a hunter. I’m not hunting anything.”

“Oh, aren’t you? I believe I remember you were hunting for a solution to your uh… situation…”

My situation is not the same! I can’t say that, I couldn’t even bring myself to answer. My situation… it’s hard to explain, it was a stupid spur of the moment decision. Meeting clockwork, seeing Amity Park’s future, knowing what I could become, it’s all a mess I wish I could forget. I stare at a nearby wall, holding my chest, and feeling not only my pulse but a soft drumming of something foreign and new.

I failed to save them. I failed to save my friends from disaster. I don’t know what gave them the impression I could save them, especially if I was the one that put them in danger. After that explosion, there were no survivors of that accident. I saw some kind of light leaving their bodies, I could hear a soft hum from each of the lights. The hum was familiar, but much quieter than the one I’m familiar with. I was scared, and I didn’t want to lose what little what left of my friends and family. So I grabbed on. I rushed to scoop up those little lights before they flew away or shattered with how young and fragile they were. I held them close in grief, and then, they were gone. I could still feel them now, but they weren’t in my arms anymore. What’s left of everyone is right here, with what’s left of me.

“I can’t find a solution if I’m dead.” I realize my poor choice in wording immediately. “Gone. Turned to dust. Reduced to atoms. Nothing could save them then.”

“Well, you wouldn’t have to worry about your grief anymore if, you know, you weren’t conscious anymore? I could put your cores in a jar and put it up on my mantle!”

“Oh what are you, a heartless?”

A beat. A… Heartless?

“Oh, so the welp doesn’t know grammar either, it seems!”

I don’t respond, and he seems to catch on. Why did I say that? Why is it getting to me? What is a heartless and why does it feel familiar? I try to stand again, but my legs start feeling a bit wobbly, and my head gets fuzzy. A heartless. What is a heartless? Why do I know this? My energy is spent, and as the world goes dark I hear a vague shout, and I hit the ground.

#Danny Phantom #Kingdom Hearts #Dp #Kh #DPxKH #KHxDP #not sure what order you’re supposed to put those crossover tags let alone if those tags exist yet #Danny Fenton #Sora kh #kh Sora #Written #Usually I like making comics for the stories I come up with so I can practice my drawing skills #but in this case I guess I wanted to write it out as a fic proper #I hope this is alright- I put way too much effort into the first 2 paragraphs and I’m still not sure it’s good

[thequeenofdarknessblog]

Alucard x Female Reader| The Wallachian Rose | Chapter One

|Warning: sexual and church mentions

Words: 1,927

she was his queen

your lover

Friend

Companion for life.

And eternal love.

A fragile and beautiful human who conquered his heart and placed him at her mercy.

He found her on the brink of death in one of her many conquests and kills, fear in her gaze was what her eyes reflected. She was the only survivor of this place, but something about her told her that she didn't belong there.

"Are you afraid to die?" I ask, this she was on her knees.

“No” she replied “I am afraid of you, not of death” she clarified distilling sincerity.

"Why?..." she insisted, he was so... expectant.

“Because I am just a simple peasant whose family was taken away by the church, and I was involved in this war… I have nothing outstanding in my being, my body and face are worn out, and my knowledge is limited. If you were to grant me death by your hand, O Lord, I would be so grateful to you for putting an end to this wretched existence... than to condemn myself by further deferring my life."

He had never met anyone who longed for death so much, and when he saw her clinging to her feet pleading for her it made him wonder how much that woman had suffered.

And deep in her petrified heart…her little monologue had stirred something in her being. And at that moment he thought he felt a tiny, fleeting palpitation.

“Oh, the church… huh?”

She nodded, and it was when the count stopped to look at her, she was devastated and although her look was hopeless… she still clung to that tiny cross hanging around her neck as she trembled.

If she… she knew perfectly well who he reminded her of.

"Yes, I could end your ephemeral life and... feed on your virginal blood" she shuddered, suddenly he found himself with his hand caressing her battered face "But!... your hand clinging to that cross contradicts your words, in the depths of your being you want to live, you want to move on. I… estimate that.”

She was taken aback, and suddenly she gave him the privilege of seeing her eyes…her beautiful eyes. “Sir, if only I had a purpose…” she stated more to herself than to him.

Ultimately, he was a fearless being.

I like it… he thought to himself.

“I will grant it to you, just come with me”

"Eh…?"

“Come with me, forget your past and be present stormy. Forget everything… and go ahead by my side without looking back, as my eternal companion… and I offer you to avenge your family and a life without pain or crying… Do you accept?”

His proposal was snatched and daring, not even he at that time he understood why he did that, but what he knew for sure is that he should and wanted to have that beautiful and attractive creature in his arms.

She was perplexed, looking at her robust hand extended in front of her, and through her eyes she could see as if he was reliving all her life. Tears wet her face, and suddenly, he pays attention to how she rips that cross from her neck and extends her small and fragile hand, placing it in his covered with war metal.

"Please…"

That phrase full of plea left him ecstatic, and the count ended up mounting her on his infernal steed, the lady fainted in his lap due to her injuries, and the vampire had never before felt as much desire to taste someone's blood as hers. .

He had to clench his jaw and start employing colossal resistance from that instant.

His wounds healed from him and his necessary care were given to him.

She was willing but wary

Shy, despite being told to make herself as comfortable as possible, the first thing the earl did was to embark through her story. “Learning that the lady was of French and Romanian descent, which was interesting to her, that she was the youngest of 4 sisters and that when they relocated to Romania her father died, she also remarked that her mother was dedicated to healing people and therefore that she was unjustly accused of witchcraft along with her sisters one twilight night.

And throughout the narration she told him how happy she was until that day, that her mother's last words were for her to survive and that since then she wandered aimlessly until she was sold as a slave trying not to be abused until she met him, his apparent savior.”

Throughout the testimony he never stopped crying and sobbing.

And she had various doubts and impressions, the lady herself knew two languages ​​despite not knowing how to read, and she was cunning enough not to be outraged. And she was casually chatting about her life with a bloodthirsty vampire.

That only made him more dazzled by her.

"Don't you feel trapped, little lady?"

“No, after all, I accepted this”

She admitted that at first she never thought that she would end up falling in love, or involved in romance, or anything related to the word love.

How wrong I was, her ego and pride were left on the floor.

Little by little, and touching almost a year.

A bond began to be forged.

He taught her to read and other things until she became a classy lady, she was impressed by the wisdom of such an ancient demon, and he enjoyed hearing her read various stories in French, Romanian, Ottoman and English. The little lady did not leave the library that she owned. She close to him feeling her warmth, hearing her soft and sweet voice narrating the paragraphs of those books made her touch the almost impossible paradise.

He loved how she was ashamed of her when she spoke to him in Romanian.

"Why so nervous little one?"

“Her voice of hers is… is… graceful”

“No one has ever told me that before, you really are very entertaining dear. Hearing your voice in French is such an ecstasy” and afterwards she reveled in the usual beautiful blush on her face.

And that full moon night.

He tasted her lips with a kiss, her soft, luscious lips. He gave her warmth, an electricity ran through her body. And urges he'd thought were dead arose.

She was so nervous and awkward, she forgot that she had surely never been in contact with a man in such a way. And he forced himself not to take her at that moment.

Because he would kill her, and he had promised himself to keep her humanity.

Safeguard her soul.

That was the beginning of their relationship,

And from that moment she became her life, she accepted him.

A beast, a man without god and full of irredeemable sins.

She was his beautiful rose, his beloved and the only one who tamed his inner beast.

Barely two years had passed, but they felt like it was an eternity.

He kept his promises, cheating was not in her nature. The lady forgot what crying and pain were, and the count mercilessly attacked those responsible for her misfortune.

At the time he made her his wife, in addition to her ring, he gave her a beautiful necklace with the phrase "Te voi iubi pentru eternitate" engraved; which meant “I will love you for eternity” in Romanian. And consequently, she became his beautiful countess.

"The Rose of Wallachia"

With her by her side, he felt even more invincible.

He later turned her into a vampire, thus being the first female vampire in history.

And that same night he made her his without ceasing, the cries of pleasure and the animal growls reverberated in the walls, the only witnesses of the consummation of love and eternal devotion of her.

Count Dracula and the Rose of Wallachia became the kings of the Undead along with their unstoppable army.

Until one day, everything was taken from him.

As a man, Arthur and his Hellsing organization along with other allies did what no one could in years.

defeat him.

Leaving him without land, without a castle, without an army, without servants and even his beautiful rose was taken from him.

The Queen of him.

The one he forced to flee before their last battle after giving one last kiss.

“This is not a goodbye my beloved Rosa, it is a see you soon. I don't mind losing everything, you are my greatest treasure. So run away my love, run away without looking back, I swear we will meet in this life or the next.

And when Arthur drove that stake into her heart, between her reddish tears he only saw her, with her beautiful hair and face turning away from him. The pain of that stake was insignificant with the tear in her heart, an irreparable wound.

It was hard for him, going from being an earl to being a dog.

no castle

no servants

Heartless

Without her eternal love.

Locked in that deep cellar, he only thought about her incessantly.

His voice

His smell

The softness of her skin.

the scent of her hair

The beautiful tunes of pleasure from her when they came together with love and passion.

The memories of her.

He just wanted to be freed so he could find her.

And after a while Integra came to him, cornered by her uncle and freeing him. She offered him her loyalty in exchange for helping him find his eternal queen.

Thus, “Alucard the Vampire” was born.

And there he was, having annihilated a vampire and his ghouls salivating in the process at a police girl who would become his servant, (as well as annihilating a certain incompetent brother Valentine) sitting on that throne with a goblet of blood at his side. his side, seeing the ring in his hands, the only memory of his happier days.

Her integral mistress prostrated herself in front of him, with her usual regal countenance and bearing.

In her sensitive state and before she opened her mouth, he said;

"We had an Integra deal, do you remember?" he questions while the reflection of that ring could be seen in his lens.

“I know, don't get impatient. You know we've been investigating” she replies neutrally.

His father had told him everything he knew about that vampire, and whenever Alucard reminded him of the treaty they had, he perpetuated something specific that his father told him in his last moments.

“Integra, every king has his queen. He was surprised when I learned that this vampire had a lover for whom he would be willing to do anything. Hellsing wanted to capture her along with him to be our life insurance through which we could manipulate him and have him at our mercy. But he helped her run away, we don't know her location or the extent of her power but you must find her. Integra, honestly, amazes me how this complicated and dangerous creature that only leaves chaos and destruction in her wake is able to love as intensely as he loves her. It is the only thing left to him, as a count, as a king, as a man and as a vampire, find her Integra, she suits us, she will be of great use to you and Hellsing will have the most powerful weapons he has ever had ”

And her father was right, Alucard was totally willing to be a dog and obey her at her will if that would ensure that he would have her queen back.

But he might also turn against him if he didn't fulfill his end of the deal soon.

It was complicated, that woman was literally a ghost

"Did you come to say that or is there something else?" he questions a second time but with an irritated tone that he never used with integra.

"Don't you read thoughts? You must already know what I came for" she asked coldly.

"I'm not in the mood for that…" Alucard replies in the same way.

“Not even to receive the news that we have found a clue about her?” coaxes the blonde with a smile.

Alucard was puzzled.

After so much time?...

It shouldn't be a joke, but Integra doesn't make jokes...

"Integra... Where?"

“Follow me and you will know”

And that's how this story that never had an end continues.

Soon the count and the Wallachian rose would meet again.

Chapter Two: 👇

#Hellsing #Hellsing Ultimate #Alucard x Reader #Alucard x You