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falling-pages · 4 years

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😈 Takashi for "was he/she worth it?"

I ALWAYS WRITE TOO MUCH FOR THESE PROMPTS SO WE’RE GONNA MAKE THIS ONE A TRILOGY AND I HOPE YOU’RE OKAY WITH THAT. IT’S THREE AM AND I HAVEN’T SLEPT IN ABOUT TWO DAYS SO HERE WE GO. PARTS 2 AND 3 WILL BE POSTED SOON IN THE REBLOGS.

UPDATE: PART 2 POSTED HERE

Romeo & Juliet: Mori x reader (part 1/3)

FYI, this is an AU where Mori is not rich or related to Honey. He’s just a normal guy, rather poor, who falls in love with a celebrity’s daughter.Also, I don’t think this first part is very good because it is setting up for parts 2 and 3, which will be good, I promise!

Romeo and Juliet wasn’t just a warning about hasty love or a satiric play about class divisions. It was a story of love conquering all, creating a bond that severs societal expectations and lasts past death. Though often reviled by actors and mocked by shallow-minded literature snobs, you knew it to be a tale of love and sacrifice for the greater good.

The young lovers were never meant to be happy. They were only pawns that had the unfortunate desire to act out.

You would know, because you’re living it right now.

When you first laid eyes on Takashi Morinozuka, you knew you were bound to love him. Before you even knew his name, you were drawn to the regal way in which he carried himself, convinced he was of noble birth. But when you looked closer and saw the callouses on his skin and plain clothing, you could tell he wasn’t.

You felt your heart shatter over a future that could never be before it had even begun.

And yet, you couldn’t help yourself.

It is fitting that you met in a pet shelter. It was the only place you could be yourself, because animals don’t ask for selfies or autographs, and it was the only place that Takashi wasn’t met with fear. Dogs can see everything humans can’t. When others saw a tall, brutish-looking teenage boy with a face of stone and hair of tar, the dogs saw a smiling, humble companion. And you–well, you saw the love of your life.

Takashi didn’t see you at first. He was too busy putting a dog back in its kennel after a walk when suddenly you were half-way to him, drawn in by that brooding air. The dog barked and like a trumpet from Heaven, the boy looked at you.

The look he gave you sent chills down your spine. His gray eyes widened, and he made a choking sound, so distracted that he forgot to latch the cage. Out scuttled the pooch, a wiry gray dog, who immediately pounced on you and tackled you to the floor in a giant licking fit.

“Benaya.”

You gasped at the boy’s deep voice, and then again as the dog, this harbringer, stepped on your windpipe in obedience. Benaya pranced back to his handler, a smile on that bearded face, as the boy ran to you in horror.

“Miss, are you alright?”

You fluttered you eyes open to see him crouched beside you, hand resting by your head. Close-up, you could see the worry etched in every gentle line of his face.

“Oh, I’m fine,” you whisper, rubbing the side of your head. You accept his outstretched hand, and when he pulls you to your feet, you see just how big he really is. You were tall for a girl anyways, but you felt so small, so feminine with him. It was a nice feeling to have his hand completely cover yours. And as you met eyes, you felt yourself fall.

Later, Takashi told you he never believed in fate until that moment.

“Is this your dog?” you asked, letting go of his hand and pointing.

The little rascal was sitting on his bed, paws crossed, with a satisfied glint in his eyes. Self-satisfaction reeked from him.

“No,” the boy whispered. “Not yet. I just volunteer here.” Your eyes wandered to his ID card in a lanyard around his neck. “But once I save up the adoption fee, they said I could have him. They gave me some other supplies for him.”

His voice filled with emotion, a spark you hadn’t yet heard in his deadpan tone. As if he understood, Benaya wagged his tail, giving a little “yip” of approval. It was obvious how much they both loved each other.

As you were about to ask him more, you spotted your sister, Etsuko, searching for you. You groaned at your babysitter.

“I have to leave,” you say, grabbing the boy’s attention.

“Will I see you again?” he blurts out.

You smile at the butterflies lining your stomach. Crazy fans always asked that, and you would be alarmed at such sudden desperation, but something was different with him. “Of course. I’ll be back next Saturday.” The back of your neck burns, as if Etsuko is lasering her disapproval into your skin. “Goodbye…?”

“Call me Takashi.” It suited him, long and strong.

“(Y/N) (L/N).”

He blinked, lightly wetting his lips. “Goodbye, Miss (Y/N).”

On the drive home, the situation rolled over in your mind. He was the first person in a while to not gawk or stammer when they realized who you were. It was refreshing to be treated like a normal person for once.

- - - - - - - - - – - - - - - – - - - - - - - - - - - - – - -

Weekly shelter visits progressed into biweekly walks in the park that turned into tiny daily after-school adventures with the boy with the hard face. As you spent more time with him, usually petting your favorite teacup chihuahua while watching him wrestle with Benaya in the park, you felt yourself drawn into his mysterious aura.

He was different than all the boys who had tried to court you before. He was rough and often came back from walks dirty with a smile on his face. He rarely spoke, which was nice. It was a break from all the flattery you endured from hopeless rejects trying to get on your parents’ good sides. And though he did admit he was a fan of your parents’ music–they had redefined the category of modern Japanese classicalism, after all–he never spouted about them. He liked you, he enjoyed your company. He wasn’t using you to get ahead. That was a feeling you rarely got from anyone.

Takashi lacked the charisma and social standing of any boys in your circle, but he possessed a kind heart and a certain innocence that poor people have, free from any ulterior motives. You had never seen such genuine loyalty before.

The more time you spent with him, the stronger you felt that connection grow. You felt safest around him. His towering build scared off potential attackers, sure, and you felt comforted when his shadow covered you from nosy paparazzi. But feeling safe and protected wasn’t just about warding off potential thieves. It was about placing your heart in his hands and knowing he wouldn’t crush it. After years of being on your guard against people using you for your fame, you could finally show Takashi this hidden room inside your soul, unlocking your emotions just for him.

He would always respond the same way: listening to you, drinking in your grievances and excitement. Occasionally he would mutter a “ya” to remind you he’s there, but most often he would pull you onto his lap or against his chest so you could feel him shielding you from the outside.

He was never greedy with your emotions, always waiting until you were ready to discuss them. Your two worlds were so different, but through hard work on both sides, you two met in the middle and created a little world, a perfect Eden, of your own.

Your dates were low-key. You didn’t even know if they were actual dates or not. All you knew is that you wanted to be with him. Every time you were, you felt something in your heart grab onto him.

Your best day together wasn’t a spontaneous date. You suspected he had been planning something for the past couple of weeks, and when you met together at the secret rendezvous spot, he held a picnic basket and a bright smile.

Gosh, that smile–you could look at it all day, and often, he’d let you. Most of the time you would just sit together in silence, or you’d meet at a cafe and just stare at him over tea as you read together.

But something was different today. Emotion cracked that strict facade on Takashi’s face as soon as you rounded the corner. He smiled, really smiled, and the light reached into his eyes. Since they were gray as steel, most people thought they were unfeeling, cold, and hard as he was. Moments like these, though, when your presence let the light in, when his pupils would expand, the steel would melt into just a slick, ashy pool, warmed into liquid by your presence.

You knew he would never say it. He never could. He barely spoke about anything, much less about love. But you saw it. You felt it in the strength of his fingers when he took your hand.

These little touches made all the difference. You two had never done much of anything physical together, besides some hugs when you were upset. Just a few hand brushes here, fixing hair there. Like he knew he was big and wanted to protect you from himself.

That changed, however, when he led you uptown to a little clearing in a park you had never seen before. In the middle of it lay a scattering of dark blue roses with a checkered blanket. An angel fountain piped water into the air, casting a rainbow mirage over the scene. On the outskirts of town, barely any pedestrians, with bright grass and a vibrant sun overhead, he had surprised you with the most romantic moment of your life.

“Takashi,” you whispered, “did you do this for me?”

“Ya.”

Without warning you jumped into his arms and hugged him. He didn’t even flinch or drop the basket, just held you close with one arm. With your cheek against his neck, you felt his skin heating with a blush. His cologne swept into your nose, odd because he usually never wore cologne, as his natural manly scent was enough to draw you in. But maybe he wanted to make a good impression today.

“It’s beautiful,” you said, pulling away from him.

“Not as beautiful as you.”

Takashi set you on the ground before taking your hand, pulling you into your own personal garden. You don’t know how this he got this space reserved or privatized. He was intimidating enough, but then he left to come get you.

You both sat down on the blanket, careful not to crush the scattered roses. As Takashi unpacked the picnic, you dug your fingernail into the threads of the blanket. It was exceptionally well-made, soft as a cloud but thick enough to be a cushion from the grass.

He pulled out two crabs, a pot of mashed potatoes, and a container of garden salad. Your mouth watered as the smell hit your nose, but he looked at you sheepishly.

“I could only get two crabs,” he admitted as he passed you the bigger one. “I’m sorry, I know this probably isn’t what you’re used to.”

You broke one of the legs and immediately dove into the fleshy tissue. “All I need is you here with me,” you reassure him.

The corner of his mouth tips upwards, and you both eat in silence.

The crab is succulent, the butter coating the back of your teeth as you swallow. This, the blue roses, possibly a reservation fee for the spot…how much money did he spend on you? You knew he did not have that much to begin with, and that he was saving up for Benaya. How did he afford all of this?

You can’t help but look at him. Towering over everyone, his back in perfect, kendo-inspired posture, muscles rippling and peeking out of his button-up shirt. He had the disposition of a king with the humble swagger and good looks of a god.

And his skin–it was darker than everyone else’s. Odd for a Japanese man, and you wondered if it were his genes or just the amount of time he spent outdoors under the sun. But it looked nice. It suited his dark hair and kept him from looking sickly.

Unabashed, you kept staring at him. Shy as he was, only stealing glances at you every so often, you weren’t afraid of being caught. You had been shut in so much growing up, taught to be a silent figurehead for your parents. You needed to be noticed by him.

After the meal, Takashi packed everything up while you fell on your back, content to take a nap. Your eyes searched the clouds lazily; you checked out mentally, grateful for a full stomach and the sun on your face.

There’s some rustling, and you feel your upper half slightly lifted. Opening your eyes fully, you see Takashi lie down beside you, stiffly stretching his arm under your head. He never looked at you, only kept his gaze glued to the sky.

If your ambitious parents taught you anything, it was to go after what you want.

You shifted your body closer to his, curling up to put your head on his shoulder. Immediately you felt him gasp. Were you too direct? It’s only been two months since you’ve met, after all, though it felt like you’ve known each other forever. Were you misreading him?

But then the arm under you slides over to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, and he smiles again. You’ve never seen him smile so much in one day.

Snuggled up together, watching the sky in peaceful silence, you didn’t think this day could get much better. But then Takashi grew restless.

He sat up half-way, still cradling you under his arm, and gave you your first kiss in a bed of blue roses.

Finally.

You sighed against his mouth, pulling his body into yours. You couldn’t even feel the sun or the grass anymore. All you could feel were Takashi’s fingers lightly graze your wrist, and then his full, warm lips pressed so firmly into yours. He arched over you, but you felt safe.

It was the best day of your life.

You had no idea that it would turn into a nightmare when you returned home.

That concludes part 1! Parts 2 and 3 will be posted in the reblogs very soon! Enjoy the fluff because the next parts are just full of pain and angst

#ohshc #mori x reader #takashi x reader #takashi morinozuka #mori angst #mori fanfic #mori imagine #mori scenario #mori headcanon #ouran high school host club

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fleetingfigures · 3 years

Text

|| 2020: A Retrospective ||

With the year coming to a close soon, thank god, I thought it’d be cool to take a look back and see what’s transpired in FFXIV as well as this blog! Anyone also reading this, I invite to do the same, if you have time of course. It’s always nice to close out the year thinking of the positives. Though, without further ado let’s goooo~

Blog-Related

- Actually, well, started using this thing! Met a lot of cool peeps and had the chance to actually break out into the world RP thanks to it.

- Almost hit 100 followers, just 5 shy!

- Top 10 Posts of the Year!

1). Promise Me You’ll... 116 notes - Aug 19 2020

First and only post I’ve had reach 100 notes! Mighty proud of the posing I pulled off for this, and who knows, I might make a sequel in due time. WoL!AU’s are still very much my weakness. And G’raha. He’s a weakness of mine too, if it wasn’t readily apparent already.

2). LFRP - Saerno Glista (Balmung/Crystal DC) 75 notes - Jan 28 2020.

Ah... My old LFRP. I even updated it, but I feel the need to change it again, especially given the fact I’m Giving my Carrd a complete overhaul. Might do the same to this blog too lmao. New Year new me as they say, but in actuality a lot has occurred for a certain catboy and things must be adjusted.

3). I Was Busy Thinking ‘Bout Boys 70 notes - Dec 5 2020

I was surprised this even got the attention it did lol. Seems NPC-related content is my most popular stuff. Also I am highly disappointed no one could recognize Arnott from the HW anima weapon quests. Y-yea he’s a very minor NPC, but I think he’s a cutie.

4). Black Mage is a Fun Class 51 notes - May 6 2020

The first of my fun class series! Originally wasn’t supposed to be a series at all, but I decided that every class in the game deserved some love! Also can I just say how much I love staves? Oh and the pagos bandana. It fits oddly well Sae imo.

5). Eden’s Promise Eternity 46 notes - Dec 18 2020

One of my more recent posts, and one not all too involved in the posing. Though, like I said in the post, the MOMENT I saw that arena, I fell in love with its lighting. OST is also a banger. Glad that people enjoyed random glamour shots with Gshade improving the already good lighting.

6). A Guide to Arcanima 42 notes - Sep 28 2020

The post I put the most time into... Photoshopping became so tedious at some points, but it was well worth it! I’m proud of the result and the opportunity to share some of my views upon the RP-flexibility of Arcanima.

7). Random Shower Thought 32 notes - Feb 9 2020

...I genuinely do not remember making this post.

8). Astrologian is a Fun Class 31 notes - Nov 30 2020

My old healing main, but still without a doubt the most beautiful class in the game. I wish Tumblr didn’t restrict gif sizes, but I understand the need for people’s devices to not implode when loading resources. So much grain could be reduced and more detail could be added, but alas. The screenshot at the end is still my favorite screenshot of Sae I’ve taken, even if it’s not IC.

9). Crystarium Coat of Scouting 29 notes - Mar 20 2020

And I still stand by my statements today. Since last tier is a patch behind us now, I could spare some augments to finally dye the coat. And, like a basic bitch, I’ve made Saerno’s ninja Rogue glamour jet black as far as the eye can see; all leather, of course. What is a rogue really without their leather?

10). 26 notes - Nov 16 2020

One of my first gifsets next to my Ninja ones! It Showcases the wonderful land of La Noscea, Sae’s only true home, and highlights some of his personal favorite areas! Hence why Limsa is barely pictured. He likes the city, but growing up in the country makes one appreciate the more natural side of La Noscea.

(Created by TumblrTop10)

In-Game

- Levelled all classes to 80! Though it does feel a bit hollow not being able to get xp for doing stuff now...

- Started Raiding... Well, seriously. I used to be a scrub and only do e1,e5 and e6 savage in PF, but a friend’s static needed a healer and they all but convinced me I was good enough to join. It’s been a hell of a ride, I’ll finally be going into e12s soon, but my experiences thus far have been awesome to say the least. I feel like I’m actually getting the most out of this game now that I both savage raid and take the time to RP.

- FINALLY GOT A HOUSE ON BALMUNG.

God was the release of the new wards hella stressful. Stayed up all night, logged on the second I could, booted up next to the ferryman. Didn’t get my ideal plot, but got the neighboring one. I finally got to house something with more than 100 slots, and for that, I am eternally thankful.

- Finished those goddamn Shared Fates. And all so I could get a piece of music and possibly make a few million gil selling other SHB area themes. Crystarium night theme is the GOAT and you cannot tell me otherwise.

Roleplay

- Actually RP’ed outside of my circle of friends! Now I haven’t had the time recently to seriously go back to it like I once did, but the things I’ve learned and the people I’ve met... I wouldn’t trade it for the world. With this upcoming new year, and me taking a small break from Uni, I think I’ll begin in earnest again! First I’ve gotta update all these damn sites first to better reflect where Saerno is now.

- New Plotlines realized, old ones closed up. It’s cathartic and oh so satisfying, in a way, to see your OC go through legitimate change and to have them put a cap upon a phase of their life, slowly moving on to the next. While Saerno is still as brash as ever, he’s begun to realize just how fragile his life is. To slow down, to sit back, rest, to think about the direction his life is headed, that is the essence of his new arc.

- Secrets to uncover. To keep things brief and without many spoiler, Saerno has made the transition from Arcanist to Summoner, but with it comes its own host of problems, ones that Saerno has to grapple lest things take a turn for the worse.

- Potential Alts. Well, now that I have money again... I may actually follow through on one of the many alt ideas I’ve had, some tangentially tied to Saerno’s own story, others completely unrelated. A tailor with an unrequited love that’s inspired him throughout his hardships? Perhaps the prodigal daughter of a family whose cunning nature only fuels her desire of pure freedom? Or maybe the son of Doman liberators, trying desperately to gain the approval and praise of others so that his parents’ name do not die out completely. So many choices...

And, well, that’s all! So far while 2020 has been quite terrible, at least I have these moments to look back upon fondly. Thanks to any and all of your who have been here this year, and here’s to hoping for a wonderful 2021!

#ffxiv #rp #Balmung #Screenshots #Saerno Glista #Thank you all!#And a Happy New Year in advance~#It's been a lovely year for my creativity

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foxtophat · 4 years

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strange things like mercy is finally done!!!!!!

it took a while and i was worried i wouldn’t be able to keep on schedule, but in the end i fuckin NAILED IT guys. i know that i’m patting myself on the back but i feel great about this fic. i got to do most everything i wanted with it, and i think that it came out pretty good in the end!!

for those of you who have been reading from the start, i just gotta say thank you SO MUCH for your support. i know i was kind of lame about replying to comments early on but i hopefully will beat that bad habit back in time for the next story in this series!

now that mercy is over, uhhh, i guess i gotta start thinking about what happens next. what does everybody wanna see out of this universe, and what stories do i already have imagined that would appeal to you guys? i guess i gotta think about it. if you guys have any ideas or prompts for mercy universe fic, i would love to hear them :) even if i don’t write them i’d love to shoot the shit about headcanons and shit i got for this series, which TECHNICALLY spans 10 years... ugh so much time, ubisoft come on.

uh, anyway... i don’t know what else to say. i’m so fuckin thankful. i hope you guys enjoy this epilogue, and that it feels... coherent??? sorry this one in particular was tricky because uh, narrators are hard you know? well. i’m gonna go ahead and stop blabberin now, and for now i’ll just leave you guys with my love!

as usual, the chapter is under the cut if you’re in a hurry or don’t wanna leave tumblr. if you feel obliged, please consider reblogging and sharing the news of an actual completed fic for once in my fucking life

It is hot outside today. The cool morning air has no chance against a bright sun in a barely cloudy sky, and there's no way to confuse this summer heat for a warm spring day. By the time John and Nick finish loading the truck-bed with salvage, both of their shirts are damp from sweat. There's no such thing as sunscreen anymore, so Nick scrounges up an extra hat for John, and Kim reminds Carmina for the sixth time to drink as much water as she can while she's out in the sun. This is Carmina's first full summer above-ground, but from the sound of it, last autumn hadn't been much cooler, so she at least understands the concept of heat exhaustion.

As far as John can tell, the only person unphased by the heat is Grace, who stays on the porch and watches the two men work. She hasn't said more than two words to John in the past month, but she's always watching him. She makes it abundantly clear whenever she comes over to pick up Carmina or spend time with the Ryes, and no amount of conversation can keep her from boring holes between John's shoulders. There have been a lot of murderous glares thrown his way in his life, but Grace's is the only one that feels truly lethal. There's no social code left to keep Grace from shooting John the moment he steps out of line, and John is certain only Kim's goodwill is preventing her from going through with it.

Ten years ago, John would have been humiliated to be so utterly powerless against someone as insignificant as Grace Armstrong. Today, John is only grateful to finally understand somebody perfectly. Grace is exactly who John had prepared himself for when that caravan passed through. There's no uneasy truce between them, no muddled water. All John has to do is keep his head down and not look directly at her, and she won't shoot him. It's painfully simple, and exactly what John needs.

Kim hovers in the doorway behind Grace, going over house gun-safety with Carmina for the umpteenth time. John keeps his back to the porch as Nick slides plank after plank of plywood his way, so he mostly doesn't see them, but he can tell Carmina is bored by her exasperated yeses and okay 's. John briefly wonders what might've happened if he'd ever talked back like that to his parents, then promptly stuffs the thought away for another day. He's trying to stay positive about this trip, after all. The last thing he needs to do is think about the Duncans or the Seeds.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Grace asks Nick once they've finished loading up. Even with his back turned, John tries to keep his expression neutral.

"What? Yeah, of course it is." Nick looks across the bed at John, who is far too busy remaining silent and neutral to offer any support. "Everybody who lives there's already been through. It's not like John's gonna be a surprise at this point, and anyway, we're gonna need the extra hands."

"I'm surprised you don't just have Carmina do it."

"Kim won't let her ride in back," Nick grouses. He walks around the truck, pausing by the tailgate to double-check that it's locked in place. "Anyway, John wants to go." He eyes John, frowning, triple-guessing himself even after John's told him it's time. "Right?"

John has to take a breath to ease his exasperation before he responds. "Yes," he says, although really, it isn't about wanting to go. He needs to. He can't stay hidden away at Rye & Daughter Aviation forever.

Grace is not even slightly convinced. "If you say so," she says.

As usual, it's Kim who comes in at the eleventh hour to distract Grace away from John, who can safely move around without more scrutiny. "Thanks for watching the place," she says, swooping into the conversation as if she hadn't been listening a few feet away. "Carmina's been excited to show you her progress in the yard since the last time you were here."

It works like clockwork, and Grace winds up bashfully smiling under Kim's genuine gratitude. "Hey, it's no problem. Like I said, I'm always happy to help keep Carmina busy."

John had never taken Kim seriously before, not really, but he never should have underestimated her de-escalation tactics. Honestly, he'd never understood why Nick would rely so much on her. He'd assumed that it was all some sort of act that Nick put on so he could constantly remind everybody that Kim was his property, or occasionally to escape from a situation he wouldn't be able to win. John hadn't thought anything at all about why someone like Kim would let herself be used like that.

Nowadays, John holds their relationship up as a standard to set all others to. It's horrifying how far short John's past relationships fall in comparison to theirs. But those thoughts, like any others involving his families, aren't suitable for today.

Grace disappears into the house, Carmina following eagerly behind. Kim steps off the porch, lifting one hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

"You ready?" she asks. At this angle, it's hard to tell which one of them she's talking to, but John knows better than to assume she's thinking about him.

"As we'll ever be," Nick replies. "You sure you'll be okay in the back, John?"

Nick isn't trying to slight him, but John still has to hold back an instinctive reaction to say something snide. It's a struggle, more than he's willing to admit to, but he manages. "Yes," he says, the easiest word to fall back on in his vocabulary, but Nick doesn't seem convinced. He usually isn't, not by single-word responses and certainly not by that word in particular, so John rolls his eyes for show and adds, "I'll be fine as long as you can drive better than you can fly."

"Man, when'd you get so goddamn mouthy?" Nick gripes, mostly in good nature. "Lucky there aren't any planes left to settle that matter."

Kim waves Nick into the cab, and John climbs into the truck-bed, settling with his back against the cab. It takes a minute to adjust as they start down the drive, but John figures out how to hold down the open container of components, and most everything else lies flat on the bed beneath him. The driveway itself is bumpy terrain, but the road levels out surprisingly even as they turn towards Fall's End. John's view is limited to the road unfurling behind them, the scenery feeling like a strange, dreamlike replication of the place John used to know. Everything is simultaneously familiar and alien, and for most of the ride, John can only hold on and mark the distance by once-familiar billboards that are now mostly torn down.

From the way Nick and Kim had talked about Fall's End, John had expected more of the town than what he gets. After all, it was never meant to be a direct target of the Collapse. That's why Joseph had wanted it so badly. But as it turns out, calling what's left a town is stretching the word to its limits. Other than the church, only the Spread Eagle managed to escape complete annihilation, apparently by divine providence alone. The rest of the structures that once lined the side-roads are now nothing but abandoned ruins, picked clean of useful salvage and left to rot. From John's place in the truck bed, he has a good 360-degree view of the remains, although most of his attention is on not letting any plywood fall out of the bed as Nick speeds down the bumpy road.

It isn't as though John is surprised by the wreckage. Everything John had been working towards with Eden's Gate had prepared him for the fact that the old world would be gone when he came back from the brink. Still, as the truck chugs its way towards the bar, John finds himself unexpectedly struck by the ruin. All of the buildings that had provided tactical advantages according to Jacob are gone. There's no way to repair any infrastructure here. Joseph's talk about empty homes available to everyone, about fields of grain and a church full of children learning how to be good, honest people — all that's left of those empty promises are decimated buildings and hard, scorched earth.

Surely Joseph would have blamed John's expectations on his own laziness and impatience. Maybe he'd be right. But all John can think is that they could have simply waited the resistance out. They could have saved the valuable resources they had thrown at the war against the valley. What was the point of wasting their supplies and sacrificing blind followers for something like the Reaping?

John doesn't want to think about Joseph any more than he already has to. Thankfully, Nick brings the truck to a sudden stop, rocking John backward into the cab's window and pulling him out of his obsessing brain.

"Hey, see?" Nick comments to Kim as he climbs out of the cab, "I told you we had it."

"Barely," John adds. "Did you make an effort to hit every pothole on the way here?"

"I mean, the road's mostly potholes," Nick chuckles.

Clicking her tongue so that she doesn't incriminate her husband, Kim comes around to the side of the bed. "Let's unload everything before you two start arguing, okay?"

Even as Kim is talking, people are showing up to find out who just rolled into town. John recognizes most of them from their forays out to the Rye homestead, although a few unfamiliar faces are crowding the blown-out windows of the bar. John counts six people, which is already more than he expected to live in one place, but there are doubtless more inside. By his estimation, more than a dozen people are living in the area around here, including Jerome, although he can't imagine they all live here. They can't possibly.

"Glad y'all made it," one woman says as she steps out onto the deck. She sees John looking at her and remarks sourly, "Jerome said you might be bringing him. But not Carmina?"

"We needed the extra hands," Kim replies. She has her back turned to the bar, and so only Nick and John can see her roll her eyes in exasperation as she explains. "And Grace is watching Carmina today. They're building a shooting range at the end of the runway."

Sour-faced as she is, the woman who's been put in charge seems pleased to hear it. "Well, better'a shot, better'a person, I guess. C'mon, it's all going upstairs."

John unloads most of the truck by himself, leaving Kim and Nick with the task of taking everything inside. A few sheets of plywood, a crate of miscellaneous fasteners, and two metal fence poles later, he finds himself waiting alone by the truck. It's hot as hell, and although John will take the dry Montana heat over Atlanta's oppressive humidity, he still wishes that air conditioning was a thing. He can see the heat radiating off the distant cracked asphalt, and the sun gleams in the broken windows of a derelict shop across the street. There's a boisterous conversation happening inside, but John knows better than to go looking for shade in the Spread Eagle. He's fairly certain that if he put one foot in the bar, Mary May would rise from her grave and destroy him.

Nick had mentioned a memorial, but John doesn't see it from his spot on the street. Nick and Kim seem to have things under control, so John slowly paces away from the truck, heading around to the space that used to be a parking lot. Mary May's father would keep his ugly big rig parked out here as a trophy, but now the dirt lot is empty. There's no telling what happened to the truck, but John hopes Mary May got some solace out of it before the end.

John had expected the sort of memorial you would see on the side of the freeway, with a crude wooden cross and some affectations of remembrance. He's more than a little shocked, then, to find that Mary May's grave is itself the memorial. He shouldn't be surprised. Where else would they have buried her? But still, there is something deeply unsettling about it as he stares down at the uniform mound of rocks covering the dirt. There's a clean, fairly ornate cross lying across the rocks, and a crude wooden headstone that has her name, Mary May, carved in heavy uppercase, along with two dates: 1993-2023?

Of course, they wouldn't have known the actual year. John isn't sure of it himself now.

He stands at the foot of her grave for a while. There's a bare breeze sweeping over the empty valley, which manages to make the sun a little more bearable. John's not sure if it would be blasphemous to pray for Mary May or not, but he's sure she would cuss him out if he did, so he refrains. Apologizing to Mary May would have... well, it would have made John feel better, but now that he's standing here, he's not so sure she would tolerate it. Honestly, knowing her, she would have died out of spite if she'd made it far enough to see him again. She would have spat on him and told him to go to hell, then choked on radiation poisoning right there on the spot.

Then again, John had expected Nick to shoot him without reservation. Maybe she would have surprised him, too. Been different from the thing he'd imagined her to be in the dark.

Somehow, he doubts it.

With Nick and Kim still distracted and the rest of the group seeming to have forgotten about him, John takes the opportunity to explore the remains of town further. He walks from the bar, across the empty field and towards the decrepit church standing by itself. The road is still visible in patches, but John chooses to walk across what used to be the backyards of residents who have long since died. He keeps his eye out for snake-holes, but the dirt is undisturbed and possibly uninhabitable to even the most tenacious of serpents. Only time will tell whether or not anything could ever grow here again.

It's clear that nobody has made the same effort to reclaim the church as they had with the bar. John assumes that's largely due to Mary May's influence, although he can't blame the survivors for choosing the communal space with alcohol over the one without so much as a root cellar. Still, it fills John with a strange melancholy to see the church overtaken by vines and left like a sacrifice to nature. He's never particularly cared for religious institutions before, but he's no doubt personally responsible for the end of the practitioners who might have tried to save this particular building.

John had last passed through the front doors of this church in 2018, flanked by devoted sycophants of his personal design. He'd strolled down the aisle while Jerome was being wrestled to the ground, and he'd thought of every pew and pillar as his rightful property. Beyond the Project, this church was going to be his.

Now, standing here in the late 2020s, John only feels as hollow as the interior. He'd thought he'd been in control. He'd thought he'd been chosen. But in the end, every single thing Joseph had asked of him led him down a path to ruin, and the only thing that had saved him in the end had been his own cowardly, second-guessing self.

Stepping through the doors into the open, empty hall feels like trespassing in the most divine sense, but at this point, John figures God can't expect much from him. He's always been inserting himself in places he doesn't belong, after all. It's God's job to forgive him for it.

The wooden structure creaks even in the gentle breeze. Otherwise, the church is silent; even John's footsteps are muffled by dirt as he slowly makes his way to the remnants of the altar. It's been too long, but John imagines he can spot his blood caked on the floor from when the deputy shot him. Nick's, too, has been absorbed by time, but John knows that it's still there in the wooden floorboards.

There are more holes in the roof than shingles at this point, letting in patches of sunlight from the drifting sun. As a cloud passes overhead, the light briefly dims, and John feels a deep internal chill at the first hint of creeping darkness. Nick would probably tell him it's normal, or something, entirely unaware that John has no goddamn idea what normal is supposed to be.

That's ungrateful, he knows, but sometimes it's difficult not to resent that jackass a little for being so well-adjusted.

The clouds shift, and for a moment a single shaft of light shines down in front of him, haloing the weeds in an inviting ring of warmth. John is reminded abruptly of Faith, lingering deep underground with him, the light glowing off the ladder rungs as she reaches out for him, her hand outstretched as if she could show him what might be a way out.

The clouds move, flooding the church with light, and things are clear again.

Maybe he should be more worried by the fleeting afterimages of his bunker hallucinations, but considering how bad they used to be, John will take any improvement where he can find it. For the first few nights at the Rye's home, he had been plagued by the same near-tangible shapes that had haunted him below ground. Even after the worst had passed, so many of John's dreams of Joseph in the bunker had felt more real than the room he'd wake up in. Sometimes, he would stare into the distance and see a mirage of Joseph appearing over the horizon; other times, he would snap awake from a nightmare only to find Jacob watching him from the unlit corners of his room, flickering and disappearing in the edge of his vision. Faith's voice might laugh in his ear when he gets distracted by the slow-moving clouds in the sky. Even now, if he stands still enough, he can almost hear Jacob's off-key humming in the wind.

He hasn't told Nick or Kim about any of it, of course. He's not sure how he would explain it, for one — and for two, he doesn't know if he can stand any more of their pity. They already treat him like a child; if they think that he's mentally unwell, they're only going to be worse about it. John can handle a lot of things, but their sympathy chafes more than he'd like to let on. Besides, what could they possibly other than worry?

He knows that hiding it is more childish than explaining himself, but explaining himself these days just feels like asking for pity that he absolutely does not want. Nick's gotten back to hiding his moon-eyed concern with some degree of success, but Kim still speaks so gently to him and keeps suggesting he take breaks, that he rest, that he sit down and talk, just for a minute. If it weren't for her open altruism, he'd think she was trying to get something from him. Hell, maybe she is. Maybe spending eight years by himself has tanked John's ability to see when he's being manipulated.

It doesn't really matter. If his only choices are between Kim's prying and Joseph's interrogations, then it really isn't a choice at all.

Although John doesn't hear anybody enter, he isn't terribly surprised when he hears someone clear their throat behind him. He turns to find Jerome standing in the entryway, the light streaming around him and framing him in the whirling dust. It's uncharitable, but John's first thought is just how old Jerome has gotten, eying his weary, slumped posture and the thick, dark gray banding his temples and beard.

"I thought I might find you here," Jerome says.

"Funny," John replies, "I was thinking the same thing about you."

Jerome approaches, although he stops at the first overturned bench, leaving the entire length of the aisle between them. Some part of John wishes other people would be as cautious about him as Jerome is.

"Nick and Kim wanted me to check on you. They said you might have come this way."

"Of course they did," John sighs. He can't help but be impressed that they didn't come looking for him themselves. Kim will no doubt have something to say about him having wandered off by himself, even though they're nowhere near danger.

The last time John stood in this church with Jerome, he had been desperately trying to maintain his control over the situation, wildly throwing everyone towards salvation without considering what saving somebody meant. It's been nearly a decade, but John can still feel the tension that remains between them, stretched between the destroyed pews like a tangled net.

"I take it things have been working out well," Jerome says. Despite having every right to be suspicious, he only seems curious as he asks, "Are you planning on staying with them?"

John resists pointing out that every plan he's ever made has gone belly up almost immediately, as well as the fact that he hasn't thought more than a day or two in the future for a long time now. The most neutral response he can offer is, "As long as they allow me to."

Jerome hums in response. John feels a sudden urge to bolt as Jerome begins to slowly pace down the aisle towards him, but his boots are glued to the spot. He already knows how the pastor feels about his miraculous survival, and he braces himself for what will most likely be a scathing indictment of all of his short-comings. A list of reasons why he should abandon the Ryes and resign himself to some serious kind of penance.

When Jerome speaks, it's only with neutral curiosity. "It's been a while since you've been inside a church, hasn't it? A real one, I mean. For genuine reasons."

John feels childish for not being able to directly meet Jerome's eyes, but he can't help it. "Not... since my parents died," he admits. For a second he wonders if Jerome ever read Joseph's manifesto, if he ever had the opportunity to see for himself what Joseph had to say about his youngest brother's upbringing. Jerome's expression betrays nothing, but John worries anyway. He isn't lying when he says, "They... soured my relationship with religion," but he still feels like he is. It wasn't the Duncans who kept him from church, after all. If anything, they would have been massively disappointed to learn that he stopped the moment they weren't around to demand his piety.

"And then Joseph changed your mind," Jerome says. It's just a fact, but it still feels like an accusation.

Still, it's the truth. "Yes," John says. "He came to me, and promised me it would be different."

Exhaling slowly, Jerome finally passes John by entirely, stepping up behind the ransacked altar and looking at the spot where a crucifix should still be hanging.

"It's been a while for me, too," Jerome says after a short stretch of silence. "I want to say that maybe this place still counts, but I don't know. It could be that there are no churches left to go back to." There's no missing the age in Jerome's posture as he bows his head. "After everything we've been through, after everything you put us through — I don't know. There's probably no coming back from that."

Despite the blame being put squarely at his feet, it doesn't sting like an insult. It's just another fact, one that John won't forget any time soon. He can't afford to.

"You only have to tell me to rebuild it," John says. He tries not to hate himself for how desperately the words come out, but he means it. At least it would be a tangible step in the right direction for once, instead of one more blind stumble.

Jerome huffs, eying John with no small amount of bemusement. "I think we have more important things to worry about for the time being," he says. "The church can be a lot of things, but it can't hold a candle to a place with electricity and some aged whiskey."

How would Joseph react, if he had come out of his bunker to find his flock had chosen a bar over his church? John can't imagine he would have handled it with the same resigned grace Jerome is showing now. How long before he would decide to return to the armory, so that he could remind his followers they were supposed to be afraid of him? Of them? How long would Joseph's utopia have really lasted, even if everything had worked out exactly as he'd hoped? He can't imagine it would have taken long for his own voice to join the chorus shouting might makes right.

"It's only a place," Jerome says with some concern, which cuts through John's thoughts like a knife. "We can pray just as well at the bar, or in a bunker. After all, God doesn't live in the temple."

"I suppose that's true." John wishes that there was a pew left safe enough to sit on. Jerome might be right about the fundamentals, but right now John just wants to feel some sort of physical support. He settles for leaning against the least fragile part of the wall he can find, listening to the creaking wood for any sign of splintering.

The church remains silent around them. Somewhere up in the rafters, a bird flutters around, and it's the only living thing to break the gentle sound of the breeze. Jerome paces the perimeter away from John, no doubt going over every lost item, every blown-out window, and reminding himself of what once was. It's all John can do as he looks around.

Eventually, Jerome gets to the heart of the matter, which John has been waiting for since he arrived in the church. "I don't expect you to have an answer," he proceeds, "But I wonder whether you've been thinking about what I told you."

John has, as a matter of fact, been thinking about what Jerome told him. He's been thinking about it since they talked on the radio, a few days after the caravan had left Hope County. In a way, he's been thinking about it ever since he saw Joseph and his people invading the Rye homestead. There had been too many followers already for John's comfort, and if Joseph is left entirely alone, that number will only go up. They might not have to assassinate him, but they'll most certainly have to stymie the number of people who might listen to what he has to say.

"I don't know if I'm the best candidate to deprogram former cultists," John says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Almost every follower had to go through me. There's not much chance they'll listen to anything I have to say."

"It won't be just your words that will convince them, but your actions, too." Jerome sighs heavily, wearily making do as he sits on a ruined and overturned pew. "Their faith was shaken like you said it would be. But word of Joseph's return has begun to spread, and... well, reason is already unfamiliar territory for some of them."

That's not surprising. John wonders how many members survived who had walked the path, who had been baptized and washed in Bliss and left in that inexplicable limbo as the Collapse came and went. John's own mind is still riddled from the endless testing and perfecting, sleepless weekends wandering through fictional fields with his brother preaching in his ear, finding the right balance between this world and the next so that Joseph could show the world.

"I want to help," John insists hoarsely. "But... talking to them will be difficult. The further down the path you are, the harder that becomes." Even now, a dull but steady pressure is starting to build behind his eye, his mind flooded by a super-cut of Joseph's voice, questions chanting at him, Do you feel it? Can you see it? Do you understand now?

John doesn't expect Jerome's hand on his shoulder. He hadn't seen the other man move, but suddenly there he is, gripping John's arm as though he's trying to drag him from a crowded room. His grim, critical stare is unsympathetic in a way that neither Nick nor Kim would probably appreciate, but that steely gaze is the cold water John needs to clear his mind.

"We can wait," Jerome eventually relents. He doesn't sound disappointed, but that doesn't stop John from imagining it. It's not much better when Jerome reluctantly admits, "Nick... mentioned what happened with the bunker."

Of course he did. Nick couldn't possibly keep something like that to himself, could he? Well-meaning bastard. John tries to gather some sort of frustration, but it's hard to fight the resigned relief he feels now that he doesn't have to explain himself all over again.

"These things will take time," Jerome says.

John sighs heavily, rubbing the tension from his temple. "I am not known for my patience, Pastor."

Jerome's response is a deep bark of a laugh, equal parts humor and exasperation. "Ain't that the truth," he chuckles, smacking John's arm hard promptly before putting a good six feet back between them. "I'll do what I can for anyone who comes to me," he says, crossing his arms. "Eventually, I'm going to... need your help. They are going to need your help. I want that time to happen before Joseph makes another move." Any levity in his voice dissipates as he grimly reminds John, "It's only a matter of time before he learns you're here with us. I don't think he'll let that lie."

Briefly rubbing his knuckles, John casts his gaze towards the sky above, as if there might be some revelation to be had in the atmosphere. "I know," he says at last. "I can only hope he's disappointed enough in my survival to be satisfied with my cowardice."

It looks as though Jerome wants to say something, but he refrains, shaking his head briefly. "We can certainly hope," he says uncertainly. "Now, I think it might be best if we head back."

John can't help but suspect that Jerome doesn't want him to linger in the church any more than he already has. Still, he's right — nobody said this was meant to be a long trip, and John could use the ride to think.

It's only once he steps through the front doors that he realizes how much cooler and quieter the church had been than the rest of the world — there's some loud laughter floating in the wind from the bar, and the air comes as a blast of warm wind that nearly takes John's hat off before he can put it back on. From where he stands on the steps, John can see Nick and Kim by the truck, talking to a handful of people who John may or may not have personally attacked. Should he wait? None of them will appreciate his presence, even if Nick and Kim appreciate the work he does. It might be better for everyone if he lets the crowd clear.

Jerome's hand is heavy on John's shoulder. "No use avoiding them forever," he says, applying just enough force to encourage John to push forward. "Redemption doesn't happen by sitting around and waiting for it."

None of the townsfolk acknowledge John's presence, even when a few call out greetings to Jerome. Kim looks mildly irritated when she glances at him, which is probably because he walked off without mentioning his plans.

Nick, on the other hand, only seems relieved to see John arrive. "Great, you're back," he says, genuinely enough that some of the townsfolk seem scandalized by it. "You ready to head home?"

John doesn't know how to handle the words. He can hardly explain his reaction to them, unable to fully grasp the sensation of warmth that comes from such a simple sentiment. There's only one word that comes to mind, lighting up in his mind like a marquee, a sentiment genuinely given for once in his life even as he struggles to hide it.

"Yes," he says. "I'm ready."

#far cry 5 #fc5 #fcnd #new dawn #john seed #nick rye #kim rye #far cry fanfic #my fic

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farfanfiction · 4 years

Text

Loyalty to the Pack: Part 13

Pairing: John Seed x Joseph Seed x Reader x Jacob Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Angst, fluff (kinda), references to self-hate, depression, anxiety, cursing, mentions of injuries and blood, mentions of self-harm, fighting, attempted suicide

Word Count: 2,121

A/N: Thank you guys so much for being this patient for this chapter. I went through a lot of stuff in my personal life as of recent and I didn't have the energy or inspiration to write. But, now I’m back and I feel more inspired than ever! And like I promised, this is a Joseph and John oriented chapter. Jacob will get his moment very soon! And like always, give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand.

Masterpost My Omegaverse Rules

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Blind rage began to bubble up as you cradled yourself to the cold, cracked, asphalt of the Hope County prison. Dirt scrapped against the palms of your hands as you clawed your way to the ground. The tears that you couldn’t hold back slowly trickled down your reddened face. You had no idea who you were mad at. The Deputy, God, or yourself. A little voice was echoing in the back of your mind, yelling over and over about how it was your fault.

To think John had suffered without you was a stab to the heart. You had never thought in your life that you would be saddened over a mate, let alone John Seed. As a child, it was a mear crush that you could control. A simple blush and a hello were all you needed, but as you got older, things began to change. He began to grow from cute to handsome and maybe even sexy in your mind.

You had grown to care for him and even though you wanted to kill him when you were first announced as mates. He claimed a piece of your heart without you even knowing.

You didn’t necessarily blame the Deputy. He did what he thought was right, just like everyone in Eden’s Gate. But the truth was that you had no idea who was the hero and who was the villain. Both sides had their advantages and disadvantages.

The Resistance gave freedom to its fighters. You could do what you wanted, bond with who you wanted, but they also had a habit of killing anyone in their way. Eden’s Gate gave people a purpose. A safe haven for wolves, but they take and take from Hope County.

This whole ordeal had washed away your rose-colored lenses of how life is fair, how God always looked out for the good and punished the bad. This was wrong. He didn’t care. This truth had turned your vision to black and white. If a God would let this happen to the soulmate he chose for you, is he truly a god?

Your (e/c) eyes turned to the cracked ground and saw the pebbles that cut into your hands. As you scrapped them off, small trickles of blood seeped from the cuts. You were too involved in watching the blood puddle drip onto Earth, much like the hallucination in the Bliss, to notice the heavy prison door creak closed. The Deputy cautiously walked down the cement stairs and his steel-toe boots quietly crunched on the ground.

The weight of almost killing a man hung heavy on his shoulders. From what Nick had explained to him, an Omega has this connection with their Alpha. If one person felt pain, emotional or physical, so would the other. (Y/N) would have definitely felt John’s emotions as he fell from Affirmation. Anger, defeat, fear. All of these must-have run through his smartass head as he fell to the ground.

The smell coming from all around you was overwhelming. You knew this scent. It was the Deputy. Worry and guilt came off him in waves. You ground your teeth as you felt him get closer and closer.

The Deputy reached out a hand to you, ready to help you off the ground. “Don’t fucking touch me.” You barely said this above a whisper. Dep just came a little closer as he watched you shake more violently than before. Were you crying or angry? He honestly couldn’t tell.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he whispered. He knew there was absolutely nothing he could do but beg for your forgiveness. People could forgive but not forget.

“If you’re so fucking sorry than go FUCK YOURSELF! JUST FUCKING DIE!!!!” You lashed out at him with what could only be described as primal rage. Your nails ripped his shorts, causing blood to trickle down his leg. The Deputy could only just stand there and take it as you lash out at him. Clawing at him with tooth and nail. Pushing him into the dirt.

All he could think was that he deserved it. Every scratch or bruise was punishment. He hardly knew you, but he felt a connection. If this was what you needed, then this was what he could do for you.

“I understand what you’re going through, let me help.” Your (e/c) eyes seemed to turn red just for a second as your veins looked like they were going to burst. The Deputy felt like flinching as your hands formed a fist. You swung and socked him right at the jaw. His head was thrown back and another yellow bruise formed on his tan skin.

“You don’t fucking understand what it’s like! Being told what to believe, what to wear, or who to love! To be forced to be someone you don’t want to be. Unlike you, a werewolf is hardwired to be this way! I can’t choose who to mate, but I fall in love anyway! So, no. You don’t fucking know! If you want to help, take me to the nearest fucking bliss field!” The Deputy looked taken aback by the speech. This cult was worse than he thought.

The Deputy carefully helped you up, his tan hand gently taking yours. You ripped your hand away with a growl and nudged him. He only gave a small smile as he led you out of the prison’s parking lot. He gave a whistle and the dog from earlier scampered up.

He was quite cute with gray fur and black dots. His large brown eyes stared up at you as his tongue flew out of his mouth and lapped at your hand with a whine. “His name’s Boomer.”

Boomer cocked his head at the name and gave a floppy smile. You remember him from the ranch. He was with the deputy when you hid in the closet. The love of a dog was unmatched, especially a dog like Lexi. God, you missed her. Where ever she was, you hoped and prayed to the Father that she was safe. That dog was one of the only things you actually trusted, she was family.

“Come on Boomer.” The dog wagged his tail as the Deputy opened the door to the back seat of a truck. He happily jumped in and laid down on the smooth fabric

The Deputy crossed the front of the truck and got into the driver’s side. You got in and slammed the door. If the Bliss got you into this mess then you need to get out of it. If you weren’t high off your mind, you could have helped John. There was no warning, or maybe there was.

The bunker, it was John’s bunker. And the blood… The bliss was trying to warn you. He was trying to warn you. Whether it was John or Joseph or Faith, or even God. You were warned.

Maybe Joseph was right. John was the start and you opened the seal. You were the lamb, not the Deputy. You were the world’s downfall and you had to pay. John didn’t have to hurt if you weren’t here. Maybe the world didn’t have to die. You weren’t the Mother, you were simply Wrath as John had said.

The truck came to an abrupt stop and you looked out the tinted window. A field of white bliss flowers swayed softly in the wind. It’s hard to think something so beautiful could cause so much destruction.

“Do you have any Molotov cocktails on you?” His brown eyes widened at the soft-spoken question. What were you going to do with Molotov cocktails? A twisting feeling began in the pit of his stomach as he reached for his side bag. He dug out two cocktails and a lighter. You hesitantly took them and took a deep breath. This was it, the end of the road. You opened the door and looked back at the Deputy. You gave him a nod and he drove off.

You looked at the field and saw no one. They must have been at a sermon for John’s recovery. You should be there instead of running. You were a terrible Omega. You couldn’t even support your Alpha let alone live up to beta. You at least hoped Holly was with him. Someone he genuinely loved and cared for.

You looked down at the cocktails again and lit the lighter. You brought it to the alcohol-soaked cloth and threw it. The flowers went up in flames and black smoke flew into the air. You lit the other and dropped it at your feet. The dry grass fueled the fire as it began to heat up the air. The black smoke filled your lungs and throat.

You slowly brought your fingertips to the flame and your (s/c) skin blistered at its touch. Your Omega side screamed and hollered for you to pull away, but the pain felt good. It was the punishment you were looking for. Into Hell’s embrace.

Your eyes slowly fluttered shut as the smoke burned and you collapsed onto the burned flowers. A rustle was heard beyond the field as trucks pulled up.

Faith was helped out of the truck by Jacob as they both searched the field. This wasn’t Jacob’s territory, but he couldn’t help it. Joseph was with their younger brother and he had to be by his side. Faith was worried about the bliss. The Resistance had been going around burning fields left and right, but now it really got her attention.

“Umm, sir we found something.” A VIP yelled from across the field. Jacob wasted no time sprinting with Faith hot on his tail. He stopped dead in his tracks when he found you. His red face turned redder at the sight.

“Jacob is that…” Faith trailed off. She wasn’t expecting you among the bliss. Your eyes were shut and your chest wasn’t moving. Faith threw herself on the ground and placed her ear to your chest. No heartbeat. Her eyes began to water.

“Jacob…” Her voice was quiet as she looked up at her older brother.

“What Faith?!” He yelled, getting rather annoyed with her. He only took one look at you to know something was wrong. He crouched down to you and started to perform CPR.

“What do you want me to do? Can I help?” Faith and the other Peggies ran around like chickens with their heads cut off until Jacob’s voice boomed through the burning field.

“I need you to calm the fuck down and listen. Faith, contact Joseph, I need a healer ready when we get to the compound. Don’t just stare at me! Move!” Faith had never seen Jacob so frantic before. He was usually the calm and lazy one.

The minutes that passed bye felt like hours as you finally started to cough up the ash and smoke you breathed in. “You had me worried there for a second kitten.” Jacob let out a dry chuckle as he slowly lifted you and carried you to the SUV. He sat you down next to Faith, who was too busy talking with someone over radio.

“Alpha…” The name escaped your dry lips as you shifted in your seat. Jacob gave a rare smile at you and looked at Lexi in the seat across from him. She looked less raggedy than before, having been well fed at the Veteran’s Center.

“You need rest Omega.” He honestly didn’t care which Alpha you had ment. You were his Omega through and through. His to breed and savage. A strong Omega for a strong Alpha. If you were weak, you wouldn’t have survived.

When you finally arrived at Joseph’s compound, Jacob could finally be relieved. Gabriel carried you to Joseph’s ranch and Jacob went on the hunt for some hard liquor. If John visited, there was bound to be a stash somewhere.

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just-kessho · 5 years

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Ambrosia: Dazai Happiness Week

[Day 2] Dress Up

AU: None/Yokai(?)

Warnings: Suicide – this is Dazai, after all. Descriptions of blood and (slight) gore.

[Day 1] [Here] [Day 3] [Day 4] [Day 5] [Day 6] [Day 7]

[Surname] [Name] has seen many, many, many things because of her Gift, [The Eden Cycle], that may as well have granted her immortality. From joining the battles in the Edo Era that left a (though perhaps imaginary) metallic, coppery taste in her mouth whenever her memories rounded to the deceased, to the putrid smell of rotting bodies mixed with a strong stench of blood that insects would love to craw all over – and don’t get her started on the Dragon’s Head incident…

Oh man, even six years on, her hand would itch for the handle of her blade whenever she thought of that particular massacre.

But really, nothing could have prepared her for this image that she saw with her two eyeballs.

Dazai Osamu was infamous for many things, and failed suicide being one of them, yet he was trying to hang himself using that fur around his neck… which was just simply too short, thus resulting in the brunette really just trying to chock himself with it…

Key word there: trying to choke himself.

Because honestly, that piece of fashion accessory was still too short to be completely wrapped around his neck ending with a knot.

So [Name], being the loving girlfriend that she is, bee-lined straight to him and nearly used her tanto[1] (or well, one of the many that she has on her) that she usually hides all over her clothing to literally cut the thing to shreds.

But when suddenly remembering that the attire Dazai had on was on loan to them, and it was so delicately detailed anyway, she just had enough willpower to hold back.

Although with the male’s face turning a light blue, [Name] did have second thoughts.

Still, ultimately, she decided against using any sharp objects that could not only cut through the fur, but could also accidentally leave a worrisome red line along Dazai’s neck.

(Unlike her, it was rather easy, almost too easy to end his life, despite his many failed attempts. A red cut – deep enough – in his neck would mean a one-way trip to Heaven… a clean stab through his heart would also mean death… and heck, even falling down past a certain height equals an eternal sleep.)

“… You know,” [Name] did not want to think about how the living, breathing person in front of her could die anytime soon anymore, thus she settled on scolding him with an expression that she hoped conveyed her annoyance. “When Kunikida-kun said that a generous shop is going to loan us kimono, I don’t think he meant you could do anything you want with it.”

‘Rather annoyed’ were probably the two words to describe [Name]’s emotion presently, Dazai thought, yet he could decipher the faint twinkle in her eyes and the mouth that trembles for a fraction of a second clearly – after all, perception was one of his forte.

Was she truly worried for him, about him for a moment? How truly precious. He would have hugged her, tightly at that, yet eyeing the traditional kimono (or rather, furisode[2]) that she had on, the brunette held back – just barely. Like the expensive attire he had on, [Name]’s was perhaps even more intricate, and so more expensive. He wagered one of those styles she has on, it was probably worth at least two weeks of pay check for him, perhaps even more.

It was nice, refreshing even, to see her in colours others than the normal black and white, and while her furisode does still have those colours, hey, with the accompaniment of vibrant, pastel coloured flowers and purple, it brought out her beauty even more.

Heh, no wonder many borrow kimono for formal events like these instead of buying them outright.

Still, the same could be said for him – especially that high quality fur he has.

“But [Name]-chan~!” drawing out the female’s name that made her eyebrow twitch, Dazai continued as if that failed suicide did not happen, at all, “that fur looked so comfy, and it really is, so I thought my end could be comfortable as well as clean.”

“Yeah right, I had to waste my time trying to help you. That suicide was by far clean…”

A chuckle met her ears, and her eyes widened at the light laughter that was emitted from her boyfriend’s mouth. That traditional kimono with haori[3] really suited him. If you told her several years ago that Dazai can genuinely laugh with a light pink dusted across his cheeks, then she would have scoffed and walked away muttering “what a joke.” and “wasting my time…” all the while under her breath.

… Still, Dazai looked so happy, so carefree (well, carefree as he was without running calculations and at least twenty back-up plans for the agency) and so… weirdly normal in that expensive kimono of his, so she too, joined his laughter.

Though that did not excuse him for his failed suicide earlier, thus [Name] was going to add an insulting nickname to show her annoyance (not that it always did much, as Dazai would just smile slyly and continue, completely disregarding the nickname), but at the look of utter comfort that was on his face as he rubbed his cheek against the fluffy material, she settled with:

“What are you, a kitsune?”

“But it really is soft and fluffy… of course, no where near that silk known as your hair but come feel it, [Name]!”

And so she did.

Not because she herself wanted to, oh no, even if that fur looked really soft… but because of the way Dazai’s face lit up whenever he felt the item, and she knew if she doesn’t, he really would have annoyed her to no end.

Oh, who was she kidding? It was because of the famous ‘puppy-dog-eyes’ that was aimed straight at her, though strangely enough, today seemed less ‘puppy-dog’ and more… ‘kitsune-foxy’…

Still, it did the job of melting her resolve-

And was he fucking purring?!

No way, the infamous Dazai Osamu, defeated by a mere accessory that people would bat an eye against, purring in delight at its power-

Oh my, that stupid thing really is fluffy…

So, when Nakajima Atsushi, also in a expensive kimono that was way over his finances that the poor boy had to watch where he put every step, wandered in the room, sliding the shoji[4] door, wanting to ask them if they were ready, he was met with a peculiar sight that had him rubbing his eyes to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The image of the two most dangerous people that he known of, snuggling into an accessory all the while seeming as if they were in pure bliss, was something that he would not forget in a hurry.

“Uh… [Surname]-san, Dazai-san… are you two ready?”

“Just give us a minute Atsushi-kun.” Dazai had answered, though all of them knew that it was a straight up lie, as they would need at least ten minutes. “[Name] here is looking more and more like one of those cat yokai you often find in old tales.”

“… Bakeneko[5]?”

“No, I’m more of a Nekotama[6] with my age…”

“… [Surname]-san, please stop speaking as if you are an old la-”

He suddenly stopped, for Atsushi realised the irony in the statement… though the actual age of [Name] isn’t known – not even to the female herself, but Vesalius (who was also invited, so Atsushi prayed that he would not strangle Dazai…) had deducted that she would be at least be two-hundred years, as [Name] often had nightmares – or well, past memories in her case – about days of samurai and warfare.

“All right, all right, Atsushi-kun, we’re going…” putting the fur around Dazai’s neck was hard, as [Name] had the sudden urge to just snatch it back and feel the softness eternally, but in the end, with Atsushi exerting a sigh, she, along with Dazai by her side, left the room.

Silently, without witness, the two shadows that were cast by both [Name] and Dazai held hands. Yet what was strange were the nine, fluffy objects (that somehow slightly resembled that weird fur-scarf that came with Dazai’s kimono) that were intruding from the shadow. These nine tails were the classic sign of a kitsune, and even the shadow of the furisode female have a tail, though this one was straight – exactly like a cat’s, yet with the end split equally in two halves.

Just before the light disappeared, thus taking the shadows with it, one of the nine tails found its way towards the tail of the nekotama, and the two enclosed around one another, much like how two couple would hole each other, never wanting to let go.

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

Notes:

[1] Tanto: it’s basically a short Japanese sword that was used by the samurai. While I’m not 100% sure, I think Kyouka’s short sword qualifies as one.

[2] Furisode: traditional kimono worn by unmarried woman/girls

[3] Haori: a traditional jacket-like kimono

[4] Shoji: those traditional paper sliding doors you often find in Japan

[5] Bakeneko: a yokai cat that can shapeshift

[6] Nekotama: a breed of bakeneko, born the same way as it, though only the oldest, largest (thus with more power and intelligence) cat could become nekotama. Nekotama have two tails

Done! Now, excuse me while I go reblog 2000+ photos of my husbando on my main trash blog. It’s not even 19 June here.

@dazaixhappinessweek2k19

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #ambrosia (story)#dazai osamu (bsd)#dazai x reader #dazaixhappinessweek2k19 #reader insert #imported work #yokai au #probably #Ambrosia: Dazai Happiness Week

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

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jungkook

j | write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].

You didn’t pick and I’ve been sitting on this for a while sO y’all get to know how From Eden was supposed to end before I wussed out and decided Nah Romance Y’all! I’m putting it at the end, though, because this is long enough as it is!

u | share three of your favorite fic writers and why you like them so much.

ryn i know u sent this and i hate you for making me pick anyone at all for anything sO YOU’RE RUDE, BLOCKED AND REPORTED, I’M MAKING YOU ONE OF THEM AND I HOPE IT GETS CHUMMY FOR YA

@fortunexkookie - ryn is easily one of my favorite writers, because everything they write is very real. like. each mc is relatable in their own way, they’re all very human and flawed and realistic, and i really love that. each of their iterations of the members are also very distinct, like their Falling Skies Jungkook is very different from their The Turing Test Jungkook, while still maintaining, I think, the things that make them them. Both Jungkooks are, at heart, very much like I imagine the real Jungkook to be, while still being distinct characters. If you dropped them both into a room, they’d have their own personalities and quirks and traits, but they’d still be JK. And the way Ryn does their world-building is simple and understated but it can’t be denied that it’s some of the most beautiful worldbuilding I’ve seen. And we’re not going to start on the prose part of their writing, because I will legitimately never stop talking about the way Ryn consistently puts in lines that just. Echo. In your brain. Like. It flows and it emotes and it’s perfect for the scenes, but then they just hit you with these specific parts that just stay in your heart for so long that they grow roots. I’m never not going to be in love with Ryn’s writing.

@junqkook - Yara is an ICON. Like. HOW she read something I wrote and thought it was good I still don’t know because I legitimately am floored every single time I read something by her. I’m pretty sure I’ve gone through her masterlist at least twice, and every single story is so unique and creative, even the ones that are inspired are published series, and I’m just. In awe. The characters she creates are always so varied and intriguing, and the worlds are so interesting and fascinating, and I am consistently envious of the way her work flows so smoothly and so naturally. It all has such a natural progression, the dialogue is genuine and real, and I’m just. I’m in awe. Literally in awe, I love it so much, and I can only hope that my shiny garbage can one day be like that.

@gukyi - i don’t think we’re actually mutuals, because I could only wish for someone like Guyi to know I exist, and the only reason I’m keeping the tag is bc she deserves all of the love and praise. If you want good fics, especially if you’re not one for the smut, then you really need to be following Guyi because the worlds she creates in her fics are absolutely astounding. Her entire HP au series is absolutely phenomenal and creative and stands out from every single hp au I’ve EVER read, which is rare because while they all tend to be good, they also all tend to be very similar because there’s only so much you can usually do in a hp au, and I haven’t read a single fic from her that I didn’t love. Victorious? Iconic, the worldbuilding she did to add onto HTTYD was phenomenal, and she blew the childhood friends to enemies to lovers trope out of the park. Her horror fics are some of the only ones I’ve read because they’re just that good. THE WEDDING PLANNERS? Truly iconic. I honestly WISH I could write like Guyi.

n - answered here

g | do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I’m a dumb bitch, so I have to write my story from start to finish. I tend to ramble in my notes about various scenes I want to include, and maybe some random notes about the relationship or their personalities, but like.

o - answered here

k | what’s the angstiest idea you’ve ever come up with?

That’s gOTTA be Forever Rain, like. I’m not usually an angst person, so I’m not super good at coming up with angst prompts, but Forever Rain is EASILY the most angsty thing I’ve ever come up with. I’m getting sad just writing it, like.

From Eden Alternate Ending

The aftermath of the fight with Demeter changes everything. Hoseok and Hades don’t see Yoongi before he gets dragged back to Olympus, which shouldn’t be possible in the first place, but Zeus has always tended to side with anyone who wasn’t the Queen of the Dead. No one is even sure Yoongi’s alright until Hermes comes down to tell them about Zeus’ decision, and Hoseok is pretty sure he’s never seen Hades angrier than that night. They haven’t spoken since, not really; he knows that she visits him when she thinks he’s asleep, knows that she runs her hands carefully through the air above his fractured wing even as she has to work to stitch her own body back together out of shadows and the memory of what hope felt like. The guilt shoves from her in waves, until it cloys in his throat and drowns out his own. Hades is focused on her own pain; how she should never have gone to Zeus, never have sought out what Yoongi was so afraid of, never trusted that Hoseok would be able to stay with him when Yoongi could convince anyone of anything. She doesn’t talk to anyone, doesn’t do anything but the work expected of her; the dead are piling up, slower than during Demeter’s rampage in the mortal world, but without Hoseok there to pass judgement, the Council is forced to, and they take far longer than he ever did, and she doesn’t know what she’s going to do because he was hurt because of her.

Hoseok, meanwhile, is on bedrest, forced to spread his wings over several chairs so that they stay put, so the bones don’t break further and they set correctly. He’s a god - one of the oldest gods - but Demeter knew what she was doing when she twisted his wings beneath her and laughed as they cracked. In this story, Hades does not talk to him softly as he heals; she’s too afraid to see the accusation in his eyes, the blame that does not exist. She doesn’t tell him that she thinks its her fault, so he isn’t able to convince her otherwise. He doesn’t shed any tears with her in the darkness, she doesn’t hear his whispered confession that he blames himself because if he’d stayed...if he hadn’t flown off to try to protect his queen then maybe, just maybe, Yoongi would still be there. He’d still be safe. She doesn’t wipe his tears with her thumb, she doesn’t press a gentle kiss to his cheek after asking for his forgiveness, he doesn’t slide his lips across her knuckles and tell her there’s nothing to forgive. Instead there’s only Hoseok, stuck in a room and in pain, wondering if he’s condemned Yoongi to death because he couldn’t follow orders.

In this universe, Hades is too afraid to send warnings to Olympus about what might happen to the dead if Yoongi returns hurt or upset. She doesn’t want to meddle more, doesn’t want to cause more damage to the flower god that she loves so much, doesn’t want to watch him crumple like the blossoms around her pomegranate tree. Can’t bear to think about where the golden drops that decorate the ground there came from, but can’t bear to have it covered, either. It’s a reminder, of just what happens when she gets too close. Of what happens when she lets herself forget that she carries Death on her fingertips and Tragedy in her footprints.

In this universe, when Yoongi returns, he isn’t waiting in her room to tell her that he loves her and Hoseok. He doesn’t hold her, doesn’t show her how much he missed her in those months. In this universe he comes back quiet and solitary. He doesn’t visit Hoseok at the gates anymore. Yoongi can’t bear the reminder of the pain he caused. This time, Yoongi stays in his room. He visits the tree and his flowers, tends to them until the remnants of his blood are visible no more and the only reminder of that night is the taste of pomegranate on his tongue. He doesn’t visit Hades, doesn’t make jokes with Hoseok, and neither of them seek him out, too ashamed or guilty or grief-stricken to be faced with the hope he holds in his very skin. None of them can bear it, so none of them do.

Hades stops wandering the Meadow. She doesn’t visit the gates, either, ignores the whines of Cerberus when he misses her, refuses to pass anywhere near the courtyard where the tree sits, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of color that she’s grown to hate. The smell of pomegranate surrounds her, as it always has, but it turns her stomach now more than ever. She cries more often than before, and no one notices.

Hoseok doesn’t let the Council take over again. There’s a backlog of spirits, that’s the excuse he sticks to, and there’s too much work to be done. He pets Cerberus when the dog whines, letting all three heads lick wounds in him that no one can see, and he pretends that it’s okay. He doesn’t look at the flower crown hanging on the peg nearby, pretends it’s not there and that it’s as faded and withered as the ones behind it. His judgments become harsher, less forgiving than they were, and people stop asking for them. He stands with the dog at his back and the anger on his face and pretends like he’s healed. He doesn’t acknowledge that more broke that night than just his wing. Or that it never really healed.

Yoongi doesn’t speak. He’s silent and steady in the darkness, hands moving on instinct. He misses Cerb, misses the way he would cajole Hoseok into judging more souls, misses the way Hades would smile as she worked on the flowers. But he knows better, now. His mother spent six months reminding just what would happen if he ran again, what would happen if he let himself think he was safe again. He has nothing else to do so he thinks, about what he should’ve done. How he shouldn’t have convinced Hoseok to leave, how he shouldn’t have been in the Meadow, how he shouldn’t have asked about the pomegranates, how he shouldn’t have gotten attached when he knew she wouldn’t let him stay. How he shouldn’t have run. The pile of flower crowns beside him grows with every day, and they mock him with their refusal to wither. They stay, bright and full and hopeful, a light in the dark of his room that refuses to go out. When he leaves to go back to his mother, he doesn’t take them with him.

#answered #ask game #about bette #fic: from eden #ahahahahahaha pain #lots of pain #i hurt #a lot #probably i should turn this into its own little post so its easier for people to see but!#oh well!#this is sad #bUT LOVE THOSE AUTHORS OKAY SEND THEM ALL THE LOVE AND SUPPORT BECAUSE THEY DESERVE IT #Anonymous #questions

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vehlika-pelican · 7 years

Text

warning for long post! i always get my best ideas at night when im on mobile and cant do a read-more. sorry. blacklist "vehl's headcannons" to stop seeing my stuff. no rvb season 15 spoilers i dont think. me3 is like 5 years old now so im not tagging it as spoilers for any of the games. OKAY, RVB X MASS EFFECT TRILOGY CROSSOVER ( mostly ME 1 because its been two hours since i started writing this post now and oh shit) #TuckerFightsARobotArmy is gonna be the tag for this and the inevitable sequel posts at first i thought, with default Femshep being a badass red-head that would make our local badass red-head Carolina the obvious choice for the role but it occurred to me that she would make a better Miranda Lawson than Commander Shepard. The Director is The Illussive Man (Tim). Aside from the daddy issues, Miranda is a big supporter of Tim's until she finally sees his dark side and resigns during the end of ME 2 just like Carolina was a staunch believer in the Director until she had to face the music. The Freelancers are involved in Project Phoenix and ultimately its every man for himself when the Director starts indoctrinating/reaperfying troops. She gets assigned to the Normandy SR-2 just before the agents make their escape and she's left out of the loop and feeling betrayed. She carries that well into hunting the Collectors and her loyalty mission involves maybe saving York and getting answers. Carolina goes into hiding just like Miranda during ME3, trying to take down her former employer and his organization on her own until she needs help. Thats where our best dudes come in. but then if she's taking the place of Miranda, who could be Shepard? let's start with the Reds. Sarge is too...Sarge. Maybe he could take Admiral Hackett's place as Admiral Colonel Sarge because obviously (everyone knows he's crazy but going from enlisted man to fleet admiral makes him a legend, and he really earned a name for himself during the First Contact War. that name was legally changed to Colonel.) Grif would be Joker, so our esteemed pilot/vehicle operator who's all back-talk and bitching. Simmons is where it gets tricky. Simmons could be an engineer, possibly a quarian, who got prosthetic limbs from when he temporarily served with Sarge on a joint human-quarian deployment and became enamored with the freedom to experiment in the Alliance opposed to the strict policies in the Migrant Fleet and sought to return to his service by trying to kiss ass. but i also like him as EDI because of the proximity to Grif and how they would develop that friendship leading up to Joker's Mission when Grif unshackles Simmons to save the Normandy in ME 2. i also kind of like krogan!Grif, and you know the two of them would have the greatest time messing with the Alliance's engineers during the retrofits. then when Simmons gets a body in ME3 he tries to get a faux-skin to look human but there's a problem and its missing in places on the left side and Grif decides to tell people he's just got some prosthetics from an accident. all shiny and chrome on the fury road. Donut is Kelly Chambers. trained in psychology but rarely clinical, loving all the species, somehow spreading a space-dog STD around the ship, a bit too naive if pretty gung-ho about the mission but give him a belt of lift grenades and hot damn we're in business. Lopez is the AI who robbed the bank? embezelled money? (ME 1) and threatened to detonate a nuclear bomb inside a shopping center but actually managed to buy and download himself into a ship and set sail for sweet robot freedom in the Persius Veil. he was caught by Sarge and officially "destroyed" when he's really locked in a Rampart mech with AI shackles that force him to aid Sarge in his crazy science endeavors. he refuses to speak anything other than spanish out of spite even when he genuinely needs assistance. now the Blues. Washington will have been with Cerberus until about the beginning of ME3 which is when Tim starts indoctrinating troops and members of Project Phoenix take their chances so thats too late to start trying to save the galaxy from the Reaper threat. Caboose takes the place of David (i might be getting the name wrong), an autistic savant who can communicate with a race of alien AI (the quarian-made geth) and is unwillingly mentally linked to the geth for an unknown period of time by his own brother (one of his sisters then? my poor boy imsorry). This would cause the neural trauma/scarring resulting in Caboose being... more Caboose. but he isn't found until sometime in ME2 by Shepard and co. Freckles is the mad AI who goes rogue on Luna (not EDI or part of Simmons in this au) but ends up being befriended by Caboose. he inhabits an Atlas/Titan mech and together they're unstoppable. Tex is an attempt to recreate Allison as an AI inside a cloned body made by the Director during the early stages of his madness. now she's taking Ashley's place as a trigger happy space racist, a double agent inside the Alliance and on Tucker's squad. Church almost dates her but something...feels off...and instead spends his time fighting with her because it feels...familiar? like when he used to argue with his mom when she was alive. huh. Kaikaina and Grif petitioned to serve together so she's on the squad as an infilitrator of all things. she and Wrex commiserate over the story of how she stole a krogan warlord's biotic hammer and she tramatizes Grif by flirting with his 800-pound ass. (not that it goes anywhere. Wrex thinks humans are too squishy.) which leaves...Tucker. because who else. Commander Shepard took the responsibility of proving the existence and defeating the Reapers only because they happened to be at Eden Prime when the prothean beacon was to be recovered. it could have been anyone caught in the beacon- Ashley or Kaidan or any other marine- and that person would have tried to do the same. Tucker in RVB isnt so much chosen to be the savior of an alien race (Doc said he was but that was more Junior) as he gets caught in a bunch of shit that went down in ways he was not expecting when he interacted with an ancient alien artifact thank you very much. so he's on the Normandy SR-1 because he's an N7-in-training or outright failed to get past N1 (which is still impressive because he was considered and thats not easy criteria to meet. let my man be a badass space marine. just a little bit. badass-in-training. HE'LL GET THERE.) but is noticed for his potential and is to be evaluated by turian!/salarian!Felix for Spectre candidacy. the first human Spectre. he's a biotic, i can't decide between adept and vanguard. Tucker and Grif are Totally On To the mission's importance because "spectre's(Felix) dont come along for shake-down runs" in their new experiental human-turian ship and they arrive at Eden Prime mid-attack. Tucker and his squad try to clear a path to the beacon while Felix scouts ahead. but then they find his body and eyewitnesses say it was someone he knew by name that shot him once he let his guard down and his back was turned. "Locus" they say. supposedly leading the assault with an army of heretic-geth and a massive ship emitting a terrible sound. they fight to the beacon, disable bombs along the way, and find it just as Locus's ship departs. as the squad's engineer is scanning it, Tucker notices they're starting to levitate and rushes in to grab them and throw them aside only to get caught himself. he gets the prothean vision-warning about the Reapers and maybe a special prothean omni-blade and its on. he has to prove to the Citadel Council that their Spectre Locus is a traitor and that the Reapers are real but visions? galactic extinction cycles? oh you humans are so full of it. you've been part of the galactic community for 30 years and now you're here with a conspiracy theory at best? i cant believe we thought you could work for us. blah. Tucker marches off but meets Church who's been trying to take Locus down from within the system to no avail. Alpha!Church is the Director's son but Allison got custody after the divorce and now he's a grouchy C-Sec cop getting nowhere real quick. Tucker invites him along and he's a shitty sniper but actually pretty decent with the Mako's cannon considering it handles like a drunk krogan who can do a flip it you drive off the cliff edge fast enough (what are mass effect booster jets for?). they track down a krogan mercenary (Wrex is probably still Wrex. because who could hope to live up to him?) and fight through a strip club and kill Fist and rescue a quarian (Palomo? make that Jensen) with evidence proving Locus is guilty. then they save Dr. Emily Grey and help her keep her small clinic in the wards from being shut down and she gives them sweet discounts and all the free medigel they can shove into their pockets. they rescue asari!Doc from inside a prothean ruin (got lost on a yoga retreat and panicked when geth started attacking...i guess he could be an archeologist but maybe they drag Grey along for the ride instead...) but he's developed a split personality due to how long he's been alone in there and its kinda murderous but coupled with biotics its pretty useful. (and yes, asari are mono-gendered and are all "female" but ME: Andromeda confirmed that some asari use masculine pronouns/identify as "male" and there's no way that wasn't a thing in ME 1 canon so Doc is he/him). on Virmire, he almost shoots Tex AND Wrex on the beach- put down your shotguns you fucking lunatics i will biotically throw you into the ocean! he helped Wrex get his family armor so Tucker manages to talk him down but man Tex could you chill its been months already. he has to leave Tex behind though to protect the bomb while he and Wrex save Kaikaina and Kirahee and fight Locus. they evacuate and the bomb detonates and atleast it was instantaneous. she wouldn't have felt herself be vaporized, it was quick and we stopped Locus from getting an army of krogan. Church is devastated and knowing that Tucker leaving Tex behind was a conscious choice splinters their friendship. but. Tucker has to finish this. its bullshit and why us. why'd it have to be us on this ship in this life shewasmyfriendtoo- but its a race against the clock to the lost relay and Ilos and theres no time to have a real talk. its complete bullshit. they get to Ilos but Locus is ahead of them and they have to fight so many geth and find a 50,000 year old message which only Tucker can understand but fuck this we're being left in Locus' dust openthisstupid templedoor*swish* oh shit this things a fucking key "guess we didnt have to fight all them robots" he said stepping over the mountain of slain robots because fuck my life. Wrex how'd you live so long life fucking sucks. "i've been drunk for a lot of it" great. yup. can the Mako go any faster. and then they meet Vigil but dont record it because they're still idiots who forget/dont mind the details until Simmons shows up in the sequel you morons but hey remember THAT CHASE WE WERE IN LETSGO and they drive the Mako into a relay and if Tucker made sure to crash into a geth colossus no one says anything- and they fly out into the Presidium Commons like if the Mako had wings but itfuckingdoesnt and why are there even jets on this tank. Locus and Sovereign beat them to the Citadel and the arms are closed but Hal-9000 over there is just chillin' on the Citadel Tower like he's shishing the kebab himself. then gravity goes off and they fight sideways all the way up the tower and those turrets sure are being turrets you know and not differentiating between us and the assholes ahead of us. but they finally make it and stop Locus short of the apocalypse. Tucker goes all renegade Locus was just afraid, the Reapers put his life in persepective and we are all so small and insignificant, "is servitude not preferable to extinction?" you're just a puppet, they're using you because you're weak, because you let them, do yourself a favor-! but Locus claims its too late and they fight and kill him. but he rises anyway. the fight the first and only Possessed Marauder- Sovereign controlig Locus' corpse through implants. he was mostly implants. and once its ash ashashashes Tex didnt even get to be ashes its unfa- and Sarge is over the comm, open the Citadel's arms son so the Alliance can save the day and Tucker has a choice. save the Council and sacrifice thousands of soldiers. or kill the Reaper and worry about new leadership later. its Tex again. worse. i need to think, theres no time, you know what this thing can do you saw in the vision i believe you so what do we do. make the call. and Tucker needs the Council's support...but the Reaper needs to be killed...but saving the Council will cost too much...but the Reaper could still call the others from dark space...they'll trust me... will the new ones? will the Alliance? Anyone? no. but someone will definitely be alive. kill Sovereign. the Council dies. the Destiny Ascention is destroyed. the Alliance suffers minimal loses. humanity fills the vacuum of power. humanity is no longer trusted. they blame him. he does too. have any of his choices been good enough? right? much of the crew goes their own way. Church goes back to C-Sec. maybe he'll call. Wrex returns to Tuchanka, faith in his people restored. Doc joins Grey at her small clinic. Jensen returns to the Migrant Fleet with geth data. and Tucker and the rest are... disgraced. no one says but they dont have to. every breath is a reminder of his failures and what he did. so much potential in him once, they say. he could have been great. instead he did this. and they fight geth. chase geth. fight more. they head to Alchera. more geth, they said. it isnt. the ship is blown apart. Kaikaina shoves anyone who cant walk into the escape pods. The XO is killed almost immediately. Grif won't leave. Tucker, please, Dex! Get Dex! she yells as she's dragged into an escape pod by a Yeoman and he storms over because he wont lose anyone else but the hull is gone and you can't run in mag boots. Grif is fighting for Normandy. Tucker can hear him asking for just a little more just enough to- to- but Tucker's having none of it and pulls and heaves and forces his idiot pilot into the pod. of all the times Grif chose to be the opposite of lazy. a streak of yellow catches his eye and its coming this way and he pushes off and hits the launch button but the engines blow and he hits something as he is set adrift. he's losing air. fuck, its- its behind him. he panics and scrambles for the puncture but his arms are geting heavier and he's already wheezing short little breaths shortlittlefailures youfailedyoukilledthem youkilledher. the sun in the distance is bright. he can feel his body tilt toward the planet, sees the sunlight cresting over the horizon. his vision goes dark around the edges. but the sun is bright and he doesnt notice he isnt afraid and he falls *maniacal laughter* someone should have stopped me. i think its super out of character but this is a rambling monster and not meant to go super in-depth or anything. god help me.

#vehl's headcannons #TuckerFightsARobotArmy #lavernius tucker #rvb #mass effect

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'LOVE ISLAND' RECAP: As The Villa Drama Increased, So Too Did Cassidy's Frizz

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'LOVE ISLAND' RECAP: As The Villa Drama Increased, So Too Did Cassidy's Frizz

We’re at that bit in Love Island Australia where some people are (relatively) firmly coupled up and there’s some single people who in Love Island years have been single forever. Read: one week. In short, it’s the mildly blah bit before someone is thrust into the villa who fucks up an existing relationship or dramatically falls in love with one of the single people and things get really exciting again. We all thought that would be Jax but here we are with everyone in there talking about him like he’s the height of a toddler even though he seems to be preeeetty average on the height-scale. WHAT DO YOU WANT, LADIES. Honestly.

Aaaaanyway last night was a re-coupling that wasn’t super dramatic but did see Natasha head home, and we had a bit of a “tiffle” (honestly what dictionary did these people study in primary school) between mum and dad aka Erin and Eden. Oh and for some reason all the contestants had to hump each other’s asses to pop balloons. As you do.

OFC Josie (Head of Editorial) and moi (Senior Style & Features Editor) are here to wrap it all up in a nice little package for you guys.

JOSIE: Okay I’m showered and here.

MEL: Fantastic. You can watch some horrible Big Bang Theory with me.

JOSIE: Were there any jokes in that five minutes of Big Bang Theory. It was not funny.

MEL: I have never once remotely laughed at Big Bang Theory. Not one single time. It is literally the sewer of comedy.

JOSIE: OK so did Cassidy get a perm in the time since I watched this show?

that kind of “undone casual look” that takes 90 mins and 12 cans of hairspray to pull off

MEL: OK so I love Cassidy’s hair right now, but also yes there’s no way those are “this is how my hair looks when I let it air dry!”

JOSIE: She had dead straight hair last time I watched it. I struggle to believe those curls are au naturale. Also – who the hell are those two people talking. I’ve never seen them. OH ITS FAKE JAX!

MEL: Yep, that’s Jax and new girl Mac. Side note about Mac – Kate was like “everyone says she has amazing eyes but she has like half a Mecca eye palette on there” – extremely true. She does have nice eyes but also I could probably have amazing eyes if I knew how to blend eye shit (I don’t).

JOSIE: I didn’t even notice her eyes. Just her huge wedgie.

MEL: Yes there’s been a ramping up of the butts on this show in the last week. To be fair if you ever watch the UK version, it’s like 100% butts, guys and girls, all the time. So the Australian butts are tame, really. Meanwhile, Elias DGAF I’m just here for the free alcohol mood is so extremely good. His disinterest in actually meeting someone on a show entirely about meeting someone is really terrific, to me.

JOSIE: What’s the vibe do you think he’ll pick Sheryl / Françoise tonight? Oh wait lol he literally just pushed Sheryl out of the way while they were hunting for a bug. Why is he so obsessed with bugs.

just looking for something with my IQ levels here

MEL: He is literally Mr. Bugman or some shit. Like he is the exact person who would get bitten by a radioactive rare Mallorca bug and become a conflicted superhero at this point. CANNOT STAY AWAY FROM THE BUGS. Next episode the producers will have bought him one of those bug homes we all had as kids. Anyway, he’s just blown Millie off so he has no one else besides Françoise and he absolutely 100% DOESN’T CARE – but I think he’ll pick Françoise just to stay in the game for ample daiquiri consumption.

JOSIE: Natasha getting simple phrases wrong is funny to me. “I’m on the chopping board”. Yes Tash you are a large carrot.

MEL: She does it constantly how does she get so many wrong. As I said before – what dictionary did these people have as kids.

JOSIE: I don’t think she’s ever read a book. Elias looks so so bored.

what time does the drinks fridge open

MEL: Honestly Elias is a manly 12 year old. Is he actually an underage teenager who has faked being 22 to get into the show.

JOSIE: I think he’s definitely 16. His facial hair is too even like he sprayed it out of a can. Also Sheryl has those fake glasses you just purchased, Mel.

this person absolutely has perfect vision

MEL: Hahahaha she so does. Love fake glasses. So Cassidy is being KIND of a snake…

JOSIE: I don’t believe she likes Josh.

MEL: Exactly. She’s suddenly like “oh hiiiii joshhhhhh mmmmm your pecs are sexyyyy” and keeps touching him and rubbing his back. I’m not about it.

mm beb if i just stand within 5cm of you at all times it’ll fool EVERYONE

JOSIE: So last time I watched she was flouncing around with the shits about Grant…

MEL: So basically she’s over that and then Jaxon came in obsessed with her, and then she decided he was too short. Now she conveniently likes Josh, right before a recoupling in which she could absolutely get sent home.

JOSIE: She’s turned into Tayla.

MEL: She has a fair point about the friendship pacts Natasha keeps making with the guys, like “we don’t like each other but let’s couple up to stay in here”. No one’s there to be pals, beb. Fine to do once or twice but the show is not Platonic Man Friend Island.

JOSIE: Yeah that’s true too. But then like you’ve said Cassidy / Josh doesn’t seem genuine either.

MEL: It’s very suss. But also I mean that’s the game??? Maybe?? IDK. I’m very conflicted about Cassidy’s fake love for Josh.

JOSIE: So what happens if a fake couple wins?

MEL: I’m fairly sure eventually we will be voting for couples, from memory of the UK version. So it’s unlikely coz viewers are like LMAO YOURE BULLSHIT! and don’t vote for them.

JOSIE: So you’d have to put in a Logie worthy performance to convince viewers you’re legit. I get it.

MEL: The thing is if Cassidy played it more authentically it would work but she’s like rubbing Josh’s back like they can’t wait to romantically embrace and then suck each other’s faces off their bodies.

JOSIE: Quick ad segue because how good does the Macca’s Footy Feast look.

MEL: I remember getting those Macca’s dinner packs as a child and Mum denies it because she thinks buying us Macca’s for dinner makes her a bad mum. But I REMEMBER, HELEN.

JOSIE: How tall is Jax? They’re talking as if the poor bloke is 4’11”.

MEL: Right?I think he’s maybe like 5’11. I feel like they’re all being like “Ohhhh Jaxon is short” but like half of the girls are pretty short… ladies not everyone gets the 6’10 guy.

JOSIE: Absolutely not.

MEL: They’re all imagining they’ll score a basketballer and that is NOT REALITY. Also wouldn’t you rather a short guy who is an angelface from heaven than sucky suckerson Grant who isn’t even THAT TALL?

JOSIE: Also LOL Josh being like “I’m just under 6’1″. Okay, so you’re 5’11” then, Josh.

MEL: Hahahha every dude ever – “I’m 6’1”. I feel like every time I click a Tinder bio the dude is like “6”1″. Also when the girls were like “Ballsacks really scare me” – SAME. Extreme mood.

JOSIE: It’s so weird the way balls are just housed in there. And hang there. Like inside yet outside the body.

MEL: It’s such a weird thing. And the balls feel weird like pebbles? Large pebbles. Sliding around in a bag of skin.

JOSIE: Lychees.

MEL: Yes!!! Exact!

JOSIE: I like all my bits being inside my body, safe.

MEL: Yep I’m glad I don’t have external sex appendages.

JOSIE: Meanwhile the BBQ convo that Josh and Grant are having is hurting my brain. Stop talking about facts. You can’t do your times tables.

but like did they ever prove that E=mc2

MEL: Honest to god every convo that’s had on this show except ones about the villa relationships concerns me. They all just say words, I never know what’s being discussed.

JOSIE: OMG Eden is making an emotional speech like they’re at his and Erin’s engagement BBQ.

MEL: That was PAINFUL. Eden and Erin are like the mum and dad of the villa now which is mildly terrifying. Ummm have they been forced to dance in a circle?

saddest flash mob of all time

JOSIE: That entire BBQ moment – stop. Also every girl is dressed like she’s going to Future Music Festival.

i’ll hide my pingers up here shall i

MEL: Also – how is Tayla talking about Girl Code. She’s the last person in that place who can talk about Girl Code. Like fine you’re with Grant now but don’t you come in here calling other women out for being snaky. You are the Ultimate Snake (so far).

JOSIE: Oh no. This argument. We have trouble in Paradise with Erin and Eden.

MEL: Eden needs to chill out. But also I loled at Grant being all “lol eden take a joke” considering last week when Tayla’s heart rate rose for Elias and not him during the stripping game, and he looked like he had pooed in his mouth.

JOSIE: Eden is such a caveman though. Like Erin says one cheeky thing and he has to restrain from clubbing her off the cliff. If my bf got that cut every time I said something thirsty he’d be cut 85% of the time.

MEL: It’s all so neanderthal. I’m living for Erin being all “have you ever seen a baby and you take it’s toys away and it doesn’t like the DVD you put on for it, that’s Eden” burn though. She’s becoming my favourite there I said it.

JOSIE: I love Erin. I’ve watched his show three (3) times and she is a joy each time. I like be that instead of getting upset then she was just like “you’re a knob”. Except she accidentally starved the baby to death in the story.

MEL: Yeah she doesn’t take his shit, it’s great. Meanwhile Cassidy is a lost cause for me now because her fake Josh feelings have overridden my support for her after what Grant did. Like hi hello you don’t like Josh but you’ll happily fake it so you stay over these other women.

JOSIE: But isn’t that the game. I don’t understand the game.

MEL: Kind of but I feel like she was so high horsey about Tayla and Grant that it’s like well now you’re kind of being a bit shady. Because you’re cutting out Tash by pretending to like Josh. Who likely would have picked Tash again if you didn’t start dry humping him gently in the kitchen 24 hours before re-coupling.

JOSIE: Oh of course. And also – Grant and Tayla clearly do like each other coz that’s still going strong. So yes they were grot but at least not pretending. Josh seems quite fooled by her though, if she is lying. It’s working on him. Wow Sheryl, that card playing analogy sucked. I call her Sheryl because fucked if I’m typing her fake “French name”.

MEL: Also because her name is 1000% Sheryl IRL. I feel a bit for her since she’s chasing a disinterested teenager.

JOSIE: Same. Also Cassidy is curling her hair. We have evidence it’s not “natural”.

MEL: Someone’s brought a curler into the villa, clearly, because Tayla is also curling her hair. Maybe it’s their tactic against the vicious Mallorca humidity?

JOSIE: Oh Jesus, where did these Cassidy waterworks come from. DOLL YOU’RE GOING TO RUIN YOUR MAKEUP. WHICH YOU WERE ONLY HALFWAY THROUGH DOING.

MEL: Ok I think these people need to just be like look worst case I go back to Newy or the GC or wherever they’re from. Life goes on, you know? We don’t get to live in Mallorca forever. So who cares if you hit the end of the line, it’s not worth breaking down over imo. But I think she’s scarred from the Grant sitcho. It’s rejection fear.

JOSIE: Real question. Is she wearing a towel or a dress.

tonight i’m dressed by Dri-Glo

MEL: I actually don’t know and that is the honest truth. It may be a dress.

JOSIE: I won’t sleep tonight wondering about that.

MEL: PSA that Justin is, as always, an angel. I genuinely love him now and would 100/10 date him. I can’t believe they’re all overlooking him. I know he’s a bit camp and I think they’re all hung up on dumb superficial shit like height and sounding like a pack-a-day brickie, but come ON. He’s smart, and funny, and kind!

when this man is the catch of Love Island you know you’ve got problems

JOSIE: He hasn’t spoken once in this episode and it’s not good enough.

MEL: It’s not good enough at ALL. Justin and Erin are all that’s getting me through currently.

JOSIE: How’s Tayla’s “OIYE GORT A TERXXXTTT” screaming.

MEL: Literally screaming into the abyss except everyone was 5 metres from her mouth.

not sure if you heard me down in Tasmania but i got a text

JOSIE: Is it me or does Mac look like Ivanka Trump.

Ivanka Trump, Senior Adviser to the US President

MEL: Omg YES.

Mac, Love Island contestant

JOSIE: How tense is this recoupling.

MEL: That initial bit where it was like “is Mac going to pick Josh we don’t know”. Fuuuuck I was feeling Cassidy’s tension there. Also I wish Millie and Justin would just fall in love. How do we force that to happen. Drugs? Manipulation?

JOSIE: Does Millie like him at all?

MEL: No they’re just mates.

JOSIE: Whyyyyy he’s so nice. Oh my god Tayla’s vagina was almost showing just then.

MEL: Right? I love the zesty side splits on the dresses but they mean no undies so like BE MORE CAREFUL unless you want a Paris Hilton getting out of a car in the 00’s moment. Remember when she would always flash her vajootz? I don’t even think she cared tbh. Meanwhile Erin’s earrings are fab.

i know right

JOSIE: I’m sorry I got distracted by Eden saying “Tiffle”. As in “we had a tiffle”. I quit life, I just cannot with these people. Ugh. Elias is so beautiful. A beautiful idiot.

MEL: Elias is so beautiful and absolutely off with the fairies. His brain is with the bugs. The friend of the bugs.

JOSIE: The humidity has not been kind to Cassidy’s head. The curl solution was not a solution, clearly.

what have i done

MEL: It seems to be getting worse with each stressful moment.

JOSIE: That Cassidy/Josh kiss was devoid of anything.

MEL: Yeah coz she is prob repulsed by him. Bye Tash I won’t miss you sorry. I will literally forget your name in an hour.

JOSIE: Sophie Monk couldn’t get out of there quick enough lol. She is me watching this show. Cassidy is all dead in the eyes isn’t she?

MEL: Can’t wait for her to be like yeah nah bye Josh.

JOSIE: Also Erin is too good for Eden. He just repeats everything she says. They will just fuck a lot and then she will get over it. Nice for Ivanka and Charlie to get together, by the way.

MEL: The two fake celebrities, together.

JOSIE: I can’t wait for this new guy. I’m laughing at his “I AM THE TALLEST” comment. Why do guys care so much. Why do GIRLS care so much.

MEL: Omg the girls are going to love this large muscle with a head.

JOSIE: Just a big bicep with eyes. Can’t wait.

Image: Channel Nine

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