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moonstruckbucky · 4 years

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The Recruit (7/?)

Summary: Becoming a SHIELD agent had been your dream and finally, you’ve achieved it. You’re at the top of your class in every field except one—hand to hand combat, and it doesn’t impress Captain Rogers in the slightest. Instead, it seems to convince him you’re useless, setting off a tense relationship between the two of you. In an effort to bridge the gap, Bucky offers to help you train to earn your way back into Steve’s good graces. What could possibly go wrong?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!Reader x Bucky Barnes (not Stucky)

Warnings for Chapter: Nothin’ but fluff and soft, squishy Bucky. A bit of amgry Steve.

Notes: So... hi? It’s been a few months since the last update. I needed to step away for a while. Things were getting a little too heated here and it was really affecting how I felt about writing. And I hated that, quite frankly. I hated that I allowed people’s attitudes to get to me so bad it tainted one of the loves in my life. So. To the negative energy around here? Here’s a big middle finger. I’m not done yet. Clean up your act, and remember that all of us providing free content are fucking people. Y’all are getting a new, less bullshit-tolerant version of me. Smarten up.

Also, enjoy! x

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

When the quinjet touches down, you’re swept into the conference room to debrief the mission’s success. Sam, again, lets you take the lead in running down the mission, detailing the information hidden on the flash drive you’d managed to retrieve that contained the names of higher-ups within the organization. A quick cross-reference reveals their pasts associated with HYDRA, and Director Hill congratulates you on a job well done.

You can’t help but preen, a warmth in your chest that spreads outward. Your fellow agents grin proudly, offer their congratulations yet again, and Sam smirks like the proud mentor he is in the corner of the room, still adorning his wingsuit. Though Hill grants you a small crooked smile, she’s quick to express that your mission report is due by eight the next morning, fully completed and as detailed as possible, before the room is dismissed.

A few of the agents pull you into conversation out in the hall, complimenting you, asking advice. It’s strange - you’re as green, or greener, than some of these other agents, and yet they’re flocking to you. You thank them for their praises but ultimately brush them off - you’re sure any one of them would have been able to perform the job as well as you had.

It takes some effort to get away, your desire to get to Bucky, to see and talk to him, overwhelming you. Despite being in desperate need of a shower, you decide to forego it and head to the elevator. You scrape your nails through your hair, tousle it, and smooth it down, adjust your uniform. There’s a nick in the left sleeve from a wayward knife blade, and your boot is untied. Sweat caked to your hair and exhaustion in your eyes, but you’re determined.

Bucky’s floor is empty, his door closed. Soft music plays from behind the wood, and you rap your knuckles three times. It takes a moment, but the music stops, and you can hear Bucky’s footsteps scuffing across the carpet as he nears the door.

The surprise is clear on his face when he takes you in, and it’s quickly shrouded by worry as those eyes of his, so bright and blue, rake over your form. He tugs you into his room, your feet getting tangled together, and you nearly get acquainted with his floor.

“Bucky!” you squeak, and then his hands are...everywhere. Running over your arms and legs, pressing for bruises or breaks or fractures, and while your face heats up under his scrutiny, you still manage to get a grip on his hands.

He stills, eyebrows still pinched in worry, a doubtful frown creasing his forehead.

“I’m okay,” you tell him softly, offer a smile that helps to drive the point home. “Mission was a success, no injuries, we’re all fine.”

You feel hot under his eyes as he gazes at you, hard and unwavering, until whatever he sees is enough to convince him. He nods sagely and takes a step back, taking his warmth with him. If he notices the slight shudder of your shoulders, he says nothing.

“I, um, I actually wanted to talk to you...about this morning.”

At that, Bucky withdraws a little. Crosses his arms over his broad chest and paints on a steely facade of indifference. It makes your stomach drop, but you plough on.

“I’m sorry I ran.” Even a highly-trained former assassin can’t hide the fact he’s taken aback by your statement, and it gives you the momentum to continue. “I got into my head and I...I panicked. I thought I was taking advantage—” you ignore his snort— “and that it would look like I was trying to...to sleep my way up the ranks. And so I ran. But I had some time to think and I owe you that apology. If I embarrassed you, or humiliated you, or made you think I was rejecting you… I’m sorry.”

As you’d spoken, Bucky had taken some steps forward, a teasing smirk curling his mouth. His chest inches from yours, he leers down at you, and it takes a strong willpower not to lean into him. He lowers his head until his mouth is just centimeters from yours, his warm breath brushing over your cheeks and his eyes keeping yours locked in their trap.

A cornered animal, but running is the last thing you want when he’s looking at you like this.

“You really think you could take advantage of a super-soldier?” comes his lilting, velvet voice. It washes over you like a blanket, raising gooseflesh beneath your uniform and yet hiking the temperature up a thousand degrees. Something low in your belly curls, squeezes, makes your blood race.

You tilt your face, let your lips brush over his as you speak, “I think I can be very persuasive.”

A slight upward curl of his smirk and then he’s kissing you so deeply you have to tilt your head back. Much like in the gym, everything is Bucky. His mouth is soft but unyielding against yours, so fluid it feels like a dance you’ve done a thousand times. Sighing against his mouth, you sink into him, and he hums in reply.

His body is hard and hot where he pulls you in, his flesh hand scorching your skin even through your catsuit. The gunmetal hand cups your jaw, thumb presses into the bone to coax your mouth open. Your knees buckle at the first glide of his tongue against your bottom lip, and you feel the muscles of his forearm flexing to balance.

Your fingers slide into his hair, kept down and smooth like it’s been freshly washed, curl around the strands and tug just enough to make him tremble and groan low in his chest. His teeth are sharp against your lower lip and you hiss, mewl when he soothes the sting.

When he pulls away, an audible noise between your parting mouths, you’re left breathless. A - mostly - innocent kiss that has you gripping his hair tightly just to remain upright. Chest heaving, you watch him, dark eyelashes like feathers over his cheeks, and then those eyes flutter open.

“I suppose that means I’m forgiven?” It’s breathier than you intend, but who could blame you after a kiss like that?

Cheekily, he smirks and shrugs. “Haven’t decided yet.”

A narrowing of your eyes and you tug again on his hair. His eyelids flutter again and that muscle ticks in his jaw as he clenches it.

“Careful, sweetheart,” he warns with a tilt of his head and a look that sets your blood on fire.It’s too warm in here, and your mind has poor timing in remembering you’ve got news for him. So you make the painful move of stepping back and lowering your hands to his chest.

“I spoke with the Captain,” you murmur, glancing away and letting your mind drift to earlier that morning.

Bucky’s eyebrows rise, and he walks backwards with you until the two of you can drop onto the couch. He pulls your legs across his lap, a move that’s so casual yet intimate it takes you a minute to recover.

“What happened?”

“He was waiting outside my room. And he apologized. For how he’s been treating me, that it wasn’t fair and he’d understand if I couldn’t forgive him.”

You groan a little under your breath as Bucky’s hands work over your legs, fingertips digging deep despite the material of the uniform. You catch the look on his face.

“You look surprised.”

“I am,” he admits. And then: “He clammed up pretty fast when I asked him about why he was being such a stubborn prick to you. I’m glad to hear he smartened up.”

“You talked about me?” The thought of the rigid Captain and Bucky discussing you puts a weird feeling in your belly - one you’re not sure is good or bad.

“We did. After he called you out in the gym. We were on a mission together and I tried to get some information out of him, but he wouldn’t say a word except to tell me to shut it. What did you tell him?”

You sigh through your nose, wince when Bucky digs into a tender spot on your calf. It’s almost jarring out at ease you feel with him. “Told him it’d take some time. I’d be civil, but that he shouldn’t count on us being friendly any time soon.”

He snorts. “Bet that sat just peachy with him.”

“He was actually quite accepting of it. I think he knew he didn’t really have any room to argue.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully, and a silence ensues for a little while. He’s stopped his massage of your legs, though he still keeps contact, both palms warm through the tac suit.

In the midst of the silence, a thought occurs to you, and you mumble, “He said I was a good agent. One of the best he’s seen.”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise again - it isn’t often Steve dishes out compliments of that caliber. He watches your expression carefully; sees that you’re zoning out a little bit, mind someplace else, but not too far.

“He’s not wrong,” he adds gently, pulling you back to the present. You turn your eyes to him, slightly awed and speechless. He nods, as if to reaffirm his opinion. “You are a good agent. You’re smart and quick, and you bust your ass here. You’re strong, and you don’t take shit, even from Steve - especially from Steve. You’re gonna go far, I’m sure of it. So I can tell you that that compliment? He means it.”

You purse your lips and sink into the couch, slightly uncomfortable with Bucky’s praise. You appreciate it, you do, but between his sincerity and the attention showered upon you by your fellow agents, it’s a lot to shoulder in just a day. Not to mention the mental whiplash courtesy of the Captain’s supposed heartfelt apology.

Bucky seems to notice the war within you, the shadow that’s suddenly passed over your face. With a gentle smile, he tugs you into his lap and stands, carries you easily to his bedroom. He sets you down on your feet, the carpet plush and soft. He reaches for the zipper of your suit, catching your confused leer.

“Relax,” he huffs, “not doin’ anything but getting you comfortable. I can see how tired you are.”

Shoulders drooping, you let him undress you until you’re down to the tank top and spandex shorts you put on beneath the suit. He steps silently to his dresser, a feat that amazes you given his sheer size, pulls open a couple of drawers. He drops some dark, soft clothing into your arms.

“I’ll let ya get changed.” He leaves his room, closes the door behind him, to give you some privacy. The thought makes your heart stutter.

You’re swimming in his clothes, a pair of heavy sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt that instantly surrounds you in his scent. It’s comforting, and you close your eyes and smile as you bury your nose in the collar. You feel awkward, though, standing in the middle of his bedroom. You glance at the bed - are you allowed there? He didn’t explicitly say no and yet…

Before you can worry too deeply, Bucky comes back with a mug clutched in his vibranium hand. The smell of green tea wafts into your nose as he gets closer, and the ceramic is warm when he hands it to you. You breathe deeply before the first sip, and you get a small hint of sweetness.

“Honey?” you question.

“Learned a thing or two since coming off ice. C’mon.”

He tugs once on the baggy sleeve of your shirt and climbs onto the bed, sitting up against the headboard with those long legs out in front of him. He helps you balance carefully, maneuvers you so that you’re tucked up into his lap, mug clutched tight between your hands.

He radiates heat, and a fog settles over you, a sleepy, honey-slow descent into exhaustion. You get halfway through the tea before you begin to doze; his metal fingers clink against the mug when he gently takes it from you, sets it on the nightstand, and shimmies down the bed while keeping you curled up against him.

It’s hours later when you wake. No light streams through the windows; you’ve slept through the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. The bed beside you is empty but warm from Bucky’s body heat, so he hasn’t been gone long. Still exhausted, you roll over, hug Bucky’s pillow to your face, and drift off again.

In the kitchen, Bucky swirls a glass of bourbon, leans against the counter. A tray with a couple of ham and cheese sandwiches rests on the counter behind him, a quick dinner for the two of you considering everyone else has turned in for the night. Steve sits across from him at the island, needing a break from endless paperwork and mission organization. He’d found Bucky bent over the counter, putting together the sandwiches.

At Steve’s questioning look, he’d said, “Y/N slept through dinner.”

And something sour curdles deep in his belly at the knowledge you’d slept - full context unknown - with Bucky. Found comfort in his best friend despite knowing he has no right. Not after the way he’s treated you.

“She said you apologized.”

Steve glances up at his friend, nods calmly. “Thought it was extremely overdue, and I didn’t really want her to leave because of me. Sam said she did well today, leading the team.”

“Bet that just ruffles your feathers, doesn’t it?”

Steve’s ready to retort, irritated, until he sees the gleam in Bucky’s eye, the smirk fighting to break through. He quickly deflates with a twitch of a smile.

“No, I’m...I’m happy to hear she’s not letting what I said get to her. I’m happy to hear she’s doing well.” It’s not a lie, but it’s said with a kind of hopeless tone that has Bucky tilting his head.

“When are you gonna tell me what all that was really about?” Bucky questions carefully. Sighing, Steve digs his thumbs into his eyes and shrugs. “Because even I gotta admit that isn’t like you at all. You always give people a chance before you have a bad opinion of them.”

“I don’t have a bad opinion of her…”

Bucky clenches his jaw, squeezes the glass in his hand. “You were on her ass from day one, pushing her and humiliating her when she didn’t meet whatever imaginary standard you’d set for her. She’s a rookie, Steve, she’s learning, and she’s learning fast if you ask me.”

He knows Bucky is right, yet his words paired with that acrid feeling in his stomach makes him scoot back from the island and turn to leave the room. Bucky calls his name, frustration and almost disbelief evident in his tone, but he ignores it.

He knows he’s being petty and stubborn and unreasonable, but he can’t help it. He’s normally not the type to run away from a fight, but how could he tell Bucky his true reason for his behavior? How could he tell his best friend that the girl he’s into reminds him of the very one she replaced? That her determination and confidence sent his heart hammering in his chest the very first day he met her?

….That he’s into the very same woman Bucky is?

Steve scrubs a hand over his face with a grunt as he stomps back to his room. That nauseous feeling still bubbling in his belly, he paces. He needs something to do, something that doesn’t require him to think, where he can shut his brain off. An idea crops up, one he knows is bad, but he can’t seem to stop himself from grabbing a jacket and exiting his room again.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #steve x bucky x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve x reader #steve x you #steve x you x bucky #steve x reader x bucky #the recruit

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bigkyle990 · 4 years

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A Witchy Pirate part 5

Links!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

And thus Luz makes herself known to some key figures to the Boiling Isles, this one was a lot of fun to write, and I hope y’all enjoy the fight scene!

Luz gave a soft groan as she felt herself coming to. Her eyes stayed closed as she thought of the last things she could remember happening. The war, she was fighting against the newest creations of Dr. Vegapunk, she fell into the ocean after taking too many hits, and then… A light? Yeah a light, a familiar light that brought her to Great Blue in the first place opened up. There was a rush of motion and she was in the middle of a forest. The one outside of Bonesborourgh, when she noticed that, she dragged herself down a path that she remembered from a long time ago and found the house… No. No, it had to have been some kind of dream, she died in that war, drowned like any devil fruit user had. Whatever that was it had to have been fake, at most she was fished out of the ocean and may be in Impel Down right now.. That had to be it, it was the only right way to think of things, she would open her eyes and see the inside of a cell that she would spend the rest of her life in. “Best to get that over with…” She mumbled weekly and opened her eyes slowly. What she saw though, wasn’t the inside of a cell, no it was a sight she had dreamed of for the past 7 years. The familiar roof of the living room, it’s glowing marking of some kind of owl demon, turning her head to the side showed junk piled up all over the place. It was… It really was the Owl House! She tried to sit up quickly, but took in a sharp intake of air as pain shot through her body and she grabbed her stomach. It was then she noticed that she was nearly completely covered in bandages, not exactly fresh, a few hours at least judging by the amount of blood that had soaked into them. That wasn’t the thing that jumped out to her the most though, no, there were glyphs on her bandages. The unmistakable glyphs of the Healing Coven dotted over her vital areas, pumping healing magic into her body to help speed up the process. “I… I really am back? How? Why now, after all this time…?” She was about to tear up, either out of sheer joy at being back or fear that it really was just some kind of sick dream. That didn’t get to last though as she remembered. “Wait! The War? The others!? Are the-”

Boom!

Her head shot towards the front door as the sounds of a fight and screaming could be heard right outside. Was it Eda? Was she fighting someone? Luz didn’t take much time to think about it as she slowly stood up, grabbing her jacket that was tossed nearby, still covered in blood, and threw it over her shoulders. She didn’t know what was happening outside, but she wasn’t about to leave it be and stay on the couch.

Moment’s before

“Edalyn, we need to get her to an actual hospital.” Lilith continued trying to push to her sister, as she had for the last hour and half. “We don’t have what we need to properly take care of her here, I don’t think even when I was in the coven I’d seen wounds this bad.” She paused, looking to the sleeping form of the returned human. “Just on the surface things look terrible, she’s got multiple lacerations, some actual holes in her body that also look like they were burned in, and I don’t even need a medical scanning spell to see that she’s probably got a few shattered ribs. She needs more powerful healing magic and a real doctor.” Eda growled and glared at her sister. “You think I don’t know that!? I’m trying to figure out the best way to do it, she’s come back to the Isles, Lilly. We have to be careful that the Emperor’s Coven doesn’t find out, who knows what they’d do if they did. By the Titan Lilly, I just got her back, I… I don’t want her taken away again.” Her voice cracked for a moment, the thought of Luz finally being back was still dawning on her and to have that taken away not long after… It might actually kill her.

Lilith’s face softened for a moment and she sighed. “Edalyn… I understand, and we’ll figure this out.” She placed a hand on her sister’s shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. Eda was about to reply when both heard a sudden slamming of something outside and their heads shot towards the front door. They shared a look for a moment before heading out quickly.

The two came out to quiet the sight, a large number of Emperor’s Coven soldiers right outside, with Hooty already having beaten up a few, and the slightly annoyed and amused looking visage of one Amity Blight. Amity noticed the sisters coming out of the house and sighed. “Finally, Hooty wasn’t exactly being accommodating today.” “Yeah, he doesn’t like when guests show up in mass. What do you want, Blight?” Eda asked with a bit of a glare at the young woman, fearing the reason why the Coven leader was here.

“What can we do for you, Amity? I hope things aren’t going to become a problem.” Lilith stated as she stood beside Eda. Amity nodded, stepping forward. “I’m hoping not as well, but we are looking for something. You see about 2 hours ago, something came out of the Research and Development department and it’s landing was here in the forest. We’re looking for what that may have been.” “Well we don’t know anything about it, things have been calm all day here.” Eda easily lied, she had gotten very good at that over the years. “I’d be happy to believe you, Eda, I honestly would. If it wasn’t for the person sized crater and trail that led us right to the Owl house.” Amity stated, pointing to the very obvious trail of blood that led up to the door, even some bloodstains left behind on Hooty’s door itself, from where Luz had banged on it before.

Both women gave just the slightest flinch at that being pointed out, but were able to hide it from them. “Look, I get what you’re saying, but whatever it was, didn’t come in the house. It must have gone somewhere else, so leave. You know I don’t like you Emperor thugs on my property.” Eda glared, reaffirming her lie to protect her injured human. “If that’s the case, you won’t mind my men doing a search then.” Amity said simply as she turned to one nearby and gave a nod for them to go check the house. Said soldier nodded and started towards the door, cautious of Hooty who was waiting for Eda’s word at the moment. They got past Hooty and were getting closer to the door, as they reached for the nob. CRACK! They found their head on the receiving end of a swift smack from an angered Eda and her staff, sending them right back to the group and crashing with a groan. The other soldiers quickly called up or drew weapons, ready to attack. “As a matter of fact, I do mind. Now leave. There’s nothing in here for you.” The Owl Lady glared as she pulled out some glyph papers and Lilith brought out her own staff and papers. Amity sighed, honestly regretting what she would have to do now. “I wish you would just cooperate sometimes…” She mumbled before giving a stern face. “Arrest them and search the house.” Her soldiers all gave battle cries as they charged the two.

The fight had been going for a short time, Eda and Lilith able to keep the soldiers back for the most part. Both had become extremely proficient with Glyph magic rather quickly and that talent only grew as time went on. Eda had a group currently bound in a mass of thorny vines, while Lilith was easily stopping further advances with earth glyphs that shattered the ground under their feet.

Of course that didn’t mean they could hold out forever, especially if Amity was to get into the fray. Lilith knew well of what Amity’s potential as a witch was when she was younger and time only helped prove that. As of this moment, even with what binding on her magic the Emperor’s coven did, Amity held a very clear title as the most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles, second only to Belos himself. Possibly far better if she wasn’t restricted. They needed to find a way to get the group to retreat and make a plan. The two continued until they had been forced together and an explosion of fire blasted them back. Amity glared. “Just come quietly! We can get this over with and you’ll be let go, I promise.” She tried to reason. “Yeah right! Like we can trust Belos to let u-” Eda had started, but froze as they all heard the door opening. “No…” She looked back, hoping it was going to be King. The world froze for a moment for Amity as she saw the figure exiting the house. She had changed, older, far more developed and even mature looking in a way. The resemblance was unmistakable though as the dark skinned human exited the house, covered in bandages and seeming to be limping just slightly. “L-luz…?” Amity whispered, half expecting this to suddenly be a dream. “Kid, go back inside, you’re still hurt!” Eda yelled as Luz walked past her and Lilith, giving her a small smile as she did. “It’s great to see you again, Eda.” Luz smiled, before looking back at the situation and glaring. “I’m giving you a fair warning now. Leave and there won’t be much trouble.” Was all she said, though her visage was that of a heavily injured person, some actually took a slight step back at her warning.

“Don’t you mock us!” One bold soldier wielding magic created chains yelled. “You’re just some injured person and judging by the ears,” they took a moment to spin the chain and launch it towards her, it extended out to ensnare Luz, “you’re the one we’re looking for anyway!”

Luz sighed, stupid people would exist no matter what world you were in. This was her thought as she closed her eyes and tilted to the side, letting the chain pass her and grabbing onto it. It pulled tight for a moment and she gave a heavy tug, pulling it, and the grunt closer her quickly. “WHAT!” They yelled as they were suddenly flying at the bandaged human. Said human let go of the chain and drew back her fist, for a moment it looked like it was heating up, like metal left in an open flame, before suddenly solidifying with a black sheen, a glint of purple coming off of it as it caught the light. Just as the grunt came in closer, she buried her fist into their chest, launching them back with enough force that they took out a few other grunts and trees a good couple feet back. Luz stood back up and looked to the rest, an eyebrow raised to see if there would be more takers. Most stood stunned for a moment, before another grunt yelled out. “Hit her from a distance, we can’t let down the Emperor!” A few gave a yell of unity as they all started prepping spells, launching volleys of fire, ice, and lightning towards the human. “That’ll work to then.” Luz smirked as she raised her arm and quickly drew a glyph in the air, shocking most that were paying attention.

The Glyph she formed was black, with what looked like six lines swirling into each other, it was a glyph not yet seen on the isles. Once completed, she spread her fingers out, directing the glyph around and first moving it in the path of the fire. Once it struck, instead of spreading out, the glyph began to spiral and suck in the flames quickly. Once done it gave a glow and expanded in size. This was the same for each of the other spells launched her way, growing larger with each new spell it absorbed. Amity watched in shock as this continued, Luz was a bit slow, but reacted fast enough to keep absorbing any spell launched her way with the strange new glyph. Then it hit her. “Stop casting at her, she’s storing the energy in that glyph you idiots!” She ordered, shocking her grunts out of continuing. Luz grinned as that stopped, the glyph now about the size of herself and looked to Amity. “Still as sharp as ever, Amor?” She flirted slightly with the green haired woman, and coughing up a bit of blood from her agitated injuries. It was clear that while she was able to dodge and move, she was opening wounds on her body. As her bandages were starting to get redder with each passing moment and her movement had a clear look of pain to it. “Still, that should be enough for what I need.” Luz tossed the glyph out, locking in place in the air not far from her. She then pulled one of the healing glyphs from her bandages and tossed it at the massive glyph. Once it made contact, it began to glow and the whole thing began to spiral and shift. “Wh-what is she doing?” Lilith asked looking to her sister for some kind of answer. Only to get a shake of the head from Eda as a response, looking just as shocked as the rest of them did. Amity gripped her staff tightly, readying herself for whatever Luz was planning, though what it had to do with the healing glyph, she had no idea. They all watched as the glyph changed, shifting from black to blue and the inner glyph changing to a larger version of the Healing glyph itself. “Perfect, now come to mama.” Luz grinned as she reached out and pulled towards herself. The massive glyph passed over her, glowing brightly as it did so. Luz gave a near contented sigh as she felt her body beginning to heal much quicker, bones reforming and resetting, organs healing and sealing themself off, and pain practically evaporating away. She took in a deep breath as the Glyph faded, it’s power used up, and gave a massive sigh of relief. “Much better! Gotta remember that Glyph for sure.” She grinned as she tore off her bandages, and tossed them away, revealing her more cut from underneath as removing those only left her in a jacket that was still over her shoulders and wearing a purple sports bra to cover her.. Years as a pirate commander and in more than her fair share of battles had left her body rather well toned.

Something that Amity was having a hard time not noticing. ‘I’m dreaming… this is so a dream… She can’t be back and this hot.. What the hell is happening right now!?’ She was also panicking, somethings really don’t change.

Luz started forming a new glyph, this one dark glowing purple with what looked like a skull inside. “Alright Bones, time to wake up and play!” She yelled, slamming it onto the ground and watched as it spread out around her. The grunts all backed up and some even gave a yelp as a massive purple colored bony arm shot out of the ground and slammed down. It was quickly joined by another that pushed against the ground and revealed the large form of a purple skeleton. It’s vertebrae were spiked and the rib cage was a more golden color. In fact it’s whole form was laced with lines of gold, seeming to pulse with magic as it pulled itself out, standing about as tall as a Slitherbeast on its hind legs. It gave a powerful roar as Luz created two more glyphs, these a more golden yellowish color and tossed them towards the named “Bones”. It reached out and caught both, energy bursting and revealing a pair of glowing crescent moon shaped blades just bigger than it’s boney fists. Now armed, it began slamming and charging its way through the grunts that surrounded it.

That was enough to bring Amity back to her senses. “Shit!” She explained quickly before lowering her staff down and spinning to draw a large pink circle around herself and jump back. With a spin of her staff and slamming the butt end down, the circle sparked to life. “Abomination, rise!” She commanded it. From it came a massive Abomination, a bit more monstrous than her normal ones she’d made in her youth. This one held the same gooey texture, but had a far more reptilian form with four glowing red eyes and a gaping maw that gave an almost gurgling roar as a response. It’s clawed hands opening up and running towards Bones, knowing it’s target already. As the beasts clashed, Luz’s grin grew. “Hey, Amity!” She yelled out, catching the coven leaders attention. “This kinda reminds me of that witch’s duel we had when we were kids! You know, except I can actually do magic this time.” She laughed. “Is this really the time to be reminiscing!?” Amity yelled, blushing from the interaction just slightly. “Of course it is! You have no idea how happy I am to see you again, I’ve missed you so much, mi amor!” Luz replied back, kissing towards the woman and even making a quick plant glyph that created a flower just for Amity, right in front of her. Amity blushed as she took the flower, smiling softly at it. ’Okay, if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up…’ She thought to herself, losing concentration on the fight for just a moment. Something that made her eyes go wide when she realized it. The drop in concentration showed quickly as Bones overtook the reptilian abomination in the fight and was able to break up it’s form to the point it couldn’t recover. “Sorry about this Am, but I think we should end this here for now!” Luz called out as she drew two new glyphs in the air, one lightning and the other fire. With a toss, both flew at Bones much like before with the blades. This time however, the beast didn’t catch them, rather it opened it’s boney maw and chomped down on them as they entered. It leaned forward, hunching and bracing itself on the ground as it’s mouth began to glow a bright orange color that became more intense by the second. In mere seconds since Bones ate the glyphs, it looked towards the group of attackers and opened it’s jaw. The act loosed a massive blast of orange energy towards them all. Amity had just enough time to spin her staff and form a new circle, creating a massive shield that took the blast head on. She felt the strain as it pushed heavily on her defenses, she was able to hold though. “Retreat, now!” She ordered as she held against the blast, her men didn’t need a second order as they quickly ran from the beast. Not long after the blast ended and Amity looked to Luz from behind the shield, shocked at the power she had displayed. With one more moment she turned to leave as the shield fell and found a bit of paper floating in front of her. She took one last look back and left quickly.

- “Whew, that was something.” Luz smiled, watching as they all left quickly and Bones crumbled back into the earth below, it’s power expended from the final attack. She turned to Eda and Lilith, her smile growing. “Hey E-” She didn’t get to finish as she found the older woman slamming into her and hugging her tightly. “That was amazing, kiddo… We have so much to talk about…” Her body was shaking a bit as she was trying to keep herself from being overwhelmed by her emotions. Luz returned the hug, holding her lost mother figure just as tightly. “Yeah… We do. I’ve missed you so much…”

On the way back to make a report, Amity took the time to look at the paper. On it was a note.

We’ve got a lot to talk about and catching up to do, meet up at Blood Lake tonight. Luz ;) Amity smiled softly and then frowned, holding the note close. They did, there was a lot that had changed...

#A Witchy Pirate #fanfiction #fanfic #crossover fanfiction #owl house #the owl house #toh #one piece #Luz Noceda #Luz #amity blight #Amity #Lumity #eda clawthorne #lilith clawthorne #mass crossover #seriously #I had so much fun with this fight!

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straymackerel · 4 years

Note

19 and Dazai? I really liked all of the words uwu it was hard to pick! Also, congrats :) I don’t remember if I already congratulated you or not! Much love, friend 💕

dazai + boketto || ぼけっと (japanese, v.) to gaze thoughtlessly and vacantly into the distance.

➽─{thank you mod! i wanted to play with the idea of an annoyed reader responsible for wiping dazai’s history clean, supposing that ango was not the only one involved. this is a year into his disappearance.}─❥

warning(s): some angstiness, references to suicide

Your latest client is, in a word, uncooperative. He flakes on your appointments, dodges your questions on the occasion that he shows up, and jokes around relentlessly when you attempt to discuss the more serious aspects of your work. For the most part, you don’t mind his blithe disregard for your services so long as you get paid—but lately, he’s making it damn near impossible for you to do your job.

It is exactly because of his unamenable ways that you find yourself in a quiescent corner of the city on your one evening off. It seems that all but the moss and the sky have forgotten the lone building you’ve arrived at, a decrepit once-white manor that bathes in golden hour afterglow. You march up the square stone path that your troublesome customer has mentioned many a scheduled meeting, though you never imagined walking it yourself. It curiously leads straight from the forest right up to the front door. (Part of you thought he made this place up. Part of you still wonders if it’s real or not, even as you slip through the entrance and scale up the stairs.)

“Dazai? Anyone?” Both your voice and the sound of your footsteps resonate throughout the spacious halls, but they garner no response in turn. You meander past lattice windows and beyond marble columns, wondering if your intuitions were off the mark. It takes the sparkling crystals of a sunlit chandelier to reaffirm your gut feeling that Dazai is, in fact, here tonight.

The ballroom. Of course. He never shut up about that ballroom.

You step into the tiled floor of a high-ceilinged ballroom, half expecting to see bandaged arms flailing around in a silly dance or swinging back and forth from chandelier to chandelier. Instead, you see crimson curtains—all of which are drawn back—lining long floor length windows, one of which is propped wide open for none other than the suicidal maniac to dangle his legs over the edge of the floor. He sits in unusual silence, not so much as stirring as a light breeze blows matted bangs out of his face. You can’t help but pause at the view of a quiet, unmoving Dazai, but eventually you force yourself to walk towards the unsettling sight.

“Dazai, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all day,” you say as you approach him. You expect an excitable performance; you expect a grand gesture of welcome. You expect wrong.

Unstartled, he never turns away from the woods, nor does he flinch at your silent appearance. You crane your neck in hopes of seeing what he’s looking at, but there’s nothing in the distance but trees upon trees. You ponder the situation, his favorite pastime coming to mind immediately.

“...You’re not thinking of jumping, are you?” Dazai gives a dry laugh in response.

“And falling only two floors? That sounds more than painful than deadly,” he scoffs.

“Oh, good then. There’s no point in erasing the history of the deceased,” you say, an edge creeping into your voice. I’ve walked all over Yokohama today, you wanted to add. I’m not getting paid to babysit you, you wanted to add.

“Any other guesses for me, oh great intelligence agent?”

“I’m not here to entertain you, Dazai. I have no idea what goes through the mind of a self-destructive freak at this time of day,” you shoot back, but your deadpan only seems to egg him on.

“Maybe that’s just it,” he says, swinging his legs now. “Maybe it’s just nothing.” 

“Nothing?” you ask, seating yourself beside him with a thud. His eyes never shift to meet yours; you follow his gaze to nowhere in particular.

“Nothing at all. There comes a point where it is too tiring to even contemplate one’s life,” he replies.

“Dazai, you’re way too young to be having a midlife crisis.”

“So I’ve heard.” Your bluntness is rewarded with a short silence. “…You know, being raised in the Port Mafia forces you to grow up fast. For most of my life, I believed in war and bloodshed and little else. It was all that I clung on to. So tell me something.” His legs cease their needless movement, feet digging into the building’s outer walls. “Do you believe in your line of work?”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“When you erase someone’s history, do you truly believe they can start over anew?”

“Well, that’s the general idea,” you say, eyes trained on the fevered skyline. The sun proceeds to slink back into its nightly slumber. “Do I believe in it? Well, I’ve seen the most violent of my clientele adopt mild and uninteresting lives, if that answers your question.”

“Not really,” he says curtly.

“Then help me out here.” You fold your arms. “What are you getting at?”

“…It’s exhausting, trying to become the person I want to be.” Pause. “Pretending I’m this lighthearted and upbeat guy, pretending I give a damn about right and wrong. Pretending I have any semblance of humanly affects—be it joy, sorrow, or motivation. And soon, I’ll have to pretend I’m not as acquainted with evil as I really am. It is all I can do to maintain the disguise. It is all I can do to show up at your office.”

“You’re asking a different question, then. You’re asking if people can change.”

“Is it really all that different?” Dazai asks.

“Look, my work deals with a person’s background, not their minute-to-minute image nor their inner turmoil. I’m not your psychologist,” you say.

“I thought you might say that.”

“Yeah, well, this is what happens when you bring your baggage to the wrong place,” you reply coldly. The last rays of sun sliver into the oblivion. “Tell you what. Our next session will be our last. I just have a few remaining questions about some... mishaps that can be traced back to you.”

“And what makes this different from any other session?” Dazai finally faces you, gaze steely. You turn your body to face him as well.

“If it really takes that much energy, save your self-actualizing efforts for later. You still have a year in hiding left to work on your appearances, and maybe even your inner self.”

Nightfall cloaks the room in shadow. The neutral, all-too-serene face Dazai had worn is replaced by a look of true and utter hollowness; all pretenses seem to fall away under a lack of illumination.

“What’s different is, you can keep the mask off this time.” He lays down in response, falling back as though he were a rag doll or a scrap of fabric, all traces of emotion leaving his voice:

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

If you’re in crisis, there are free and confidential options available to help you cope.

24/7 USA National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255.

Lifeline Web Chat: https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org/chat/

USA Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741. It is silent, it is private, you can use it anywhere discretely on your phone.

List of international crisis lines:

http://www.suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

#dazai x reader #bsd x reader #bsd scenario #dazai osamu scenarios #bungou stray dogs fanfic #dazai oneshot #500 followers event

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breadcaaat · 4 years

Text

part six

Jeongguk x hybrid!reader

Words: 5.2k

Warnings: for the sake of maintaining a similar wordcount, there’s a cliffhanger. most of the next chapter is done tho, so itll be out really soon. also, mentions of rape and allusions to revenge porn

Jeongguk fumbled with the keys to his apartment, buzzed and happy. Reconnecting with Hobi had been like a breath of fresh air, and he could still feel his cheeks stinging from how hard they’d laughed that night. I missed him, he noted softly, and shuffled into his apartment.

The door clicked shut and he toed off his shoes, giggling a bit to himself.

Y/N peeked out from her pile of blankets on the bed, eyes puffy. She was wearing one of his shirts. That’s cute, he thought, and giggled a bit more. “What are you laughin’ about?” she murmured, voice fuzzy with sleep. I missed her, too. She’s so cute, look at her ears…

“Are you… drunk?”

“Tipsy,” he drawled, voice a little scratchy with how loud he and Hobi had been in their excitement. He tugged off his coat slowly and uncoordinatedly, one arm at a time. His left hand got stuck in the sleeve so he flapped it around until it fell to the ground with a thump. Another giggle. “That’s not a coat rack,” he whispered.

Y/N whistled, amused. “This Hobi guy must’ve done a number on you.”

“Nah, no… we just hung out a bit, not like that. Just tispy!”

“Tispy?”

“Tip...sy.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, patting the bedding next to her to beckon him over. “I have something I wanted to talk to you about, but it can wait until morning. Come sleep.”

“No no, I wanna hear - wait - I gotta, hold on…” he was halfway out of his shirt, one arm out and head stuck, mumbling to himself as he tried to reason his way out of his clothing.

Y/N watched on in amusement. She made no move to help him, tail curling and uncurling leisurely.

Jeongguk’s head was through his sleeve now, face smushed up against the arm sharing it. “I - ” he gasped, and Y/N giggled, tail lashing a bit more.

He stilled for a second and sighed.

“Do you need - ?”

“No, I got it. No help. Don’t worry I’ll, just… mirror!”

“Mirror?”

He didn’t answer, already tromping over to the bathroom with his arm sticking out like an unruly tree branch.

“Your left sock is slippin’ off,” she murmured.

He made a little beep in question, bending at the torso to try and get a look at it. He looked ridiculous. Like a lanky, misshapen safari animal, lost in the grasslands. Her giggling turned into a full laugh.

He whipped around to look at her, a teasing and confrontational comment ready to fire on the tip of his tongue, but the sudden turbulence messed up his balance and dropped him on his ass with a loud whump! Y/N continued to cackle, teary at the eyes and still useless.

“Where am I?!” he yelled, and it brought on another round of laughter that’d probably land a noise complaint on his doorstep in the morning.

“Let me - ” she giggled, eyes crinkled and watery, “ - let me help, Jeongguk.”

“No, I have it under control.”

“You do not, oh my god.” She rolled off the bed and approached him, still giggling. He pouted at her, face squished and hair mussed. She crouched in front of him.

“Let me help,” she murmured, and he couldn’t help but nod mutedly. She looks so soft.

Detangling him was a mess that took a solid five minutes, ten extra when he insisted on changing into his pajamas, but they finally settled.

“Your breath stinks,” she muttered. He didn’t hear her - Jeongguk was the type of drunk to focus on only one thing at a time - and he was kneeled to fluff his pillow. She watched bemusedly as he fussed with it for a solid minute in a half, adjusting the edges and smoothing the pillow case, testing the give with a little prodding, and finally giving it a good once-, twice-, and thrice-over before deeming it properly fluffed. “Good enough?” she asked. He grumbled something. She didn’t bother asking him to repeat himself.

He toppled over, finally, and sighed. Her nose wrinkled and she huffed at him. “What was’at?” he asked, finally.

“I said your breath stinks.”

“Oh. Hm.” He blinked slowly and then sat up suddenly, crawling out from under the sheets. “Hold on - I can - ”

“God - where are you going now?”

“I’m... brush teeth.” He bumped into the doorframe on the way into the bathroom, snapped at it for being in the way, whacked it, and then yelped in pain and cradled his hand to his chest. “ - Ass.”

“Dork,” she muttered, and gave up on trying to put him to bed.

🐯

“Sungmin-ah? Is that you?”

Said girl looked up from her phone, straightening her posture as she recognized two old acquaintances from high school. “Oh, uh…” She wracked her memory for the girl’s name. The brave red dye job was familiar. “Taehee-unnie?”

Taehee smiled, so Sungmin must’ve got her name right. She had another girl with her, smaller in stature with darker, shorter hair. Feeling lucky, she guessed, “...Heeyoung-unnie?”

“Heeyeon,” she corrected, with a small smile to let her know she was close enough.

“Heeyeon-unnie,” she reaffirmed, and Heeyeon ducked her head.

Taehee immediately launched into her order after that, filling the otherwise empty shop with noise that made it suddenly seem too busy. It was a swift reminder to Sunghyun as to why she hadn’t missed the girl when they graduated.

She talked too much.

Taehee finished their order and Sunghyun half-listened as she continued to babble, moaning about something her boyfriend had done over the weekend. Heeyeon seemed content - or, at least, compliant - with taking a back seat to the conversation. Sunghyun felt a little sorry for her. She also kinda wanted them to leave.

“So,” Taehee purred conspiratorially, and Sunghyun hastily scribbled a note on the order to her dad saying hurry up with this one, please. She turned back around with a polite smile on her face.

“ - Have there been any cute guys in Sunghyun-ah’s life lately?”

She remembered suddenly that her dad had stepped out to take a smoke earlier, and groaned on the inside. “Not really, unnie.”

“Ah, c’mon! It’s been - like - two years, girl! There’s gotta have been at least one or two, I know it.”

“Nope. Last time I dated seriously was in high school.”

“Oh, that twerp?” She let out a long sigh, like thinking of him exhausted her. It did bring a little smile to Sunghyun’s face. If there was one likeable quality about Taehee it was that she was always first to get up and scare away unwelcome men. When Sunghyun had broken up with her highschool boyfriend and he’d refused to leave her alone afterward, it’d been Taehee and her girl gang that’d scared him away.

“Yeah, that twerp,” she said.

“Alright, no boyfriends. Any hot guys, at least? Sweethearts with nice faces and good bodies - ?”

“ - Yah! You’re being invasive!” Heeyeon swatted lightly at Taehee, giggling a bit. It helped slice the slightly awkward air, and Sunghyun’s face cracked into a smile. In the back, she heard the door open and close as her dad returned.

“Well, yeah, there have been some cute guys. It’s impossible not to know one or two.”

Taehee cupped her face in her hands and wiggled back and forth slightly, trying to be cute. “Can you tell me about one while we wait for our food?” she cooed.

“Alright, uh - ” she glanced around the room, trying to remember a boy in her life. She honestly didn’t get out much. It’s not like she would tell Taehee that, though. “Our delivery boy is kind of cute?” Her dad snickered somewhere behind her and she blushed.

“Why’s it sound like a question? Is he ugly?” Taehee genuinely looked a bit dismayed.

“No, no!” She waved her hands in front of her, a little flustered. “He’s really cute! I had a crush on him when he was first hired but I, I see him more like a little brother now.”

“Ah, is cute not your type? You like bad boys?” Taehee teased, and Heeyeon elbowed her. Behind her, her dad murmured “She better not,” hiding it with the sound of frying eggs. She cringed, wanting nothing more than to let the ground swallow her whole. He must’ve decided he didn’t want to eavesdrop anymore after that - soft music started to play from the radio.

“Uh, no. I just realized it was probably better not to date at work.”

“Hm, that’s fair. Well, what’s his name? I’m gonna look him up on Facebook anyway.”

“I don’t think he has social media, but his name’s Jeongguk.”

They went stock still, faces incredulous. Sunghyun stared back, puzzled. “What? Something wrong?”

“Only if he’s Jeon Jeongguk.” There was a surprising amount of disdain in Heeyeon’s voice. Conversely, there was a twinkle in Taehee’s eyes, like some juicy scandal was being spilled. It put Sunghyun on the defensive.

“What’s wrong with Jeongguk? He’s never done anything we don’t like besides work too hard.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he does,” Heeyeon muttered, and Taehee hid a laugh behind her hand.

Sungyun looked bewildered. The girls exchanged a look, and then leant forward in sync.

Taehee went first, like she couldn’t contain herself. “Okay, so, you’ve seriously not heard of his whole thing? Like, when did he start working here?”

“A few months ago, why? How do you even know him?”

“We went to college with him, and let me tell you he is not someone you want around,” Heeyeon hissed, but there was an urgent, soft turn to her eyes, like she was concerned for the Gim family. “We were friends and I thought the exact same thing about him - that he was the sweetest person in the world. But he’s manipulative to a fault. It’s all an act.”

Sunghyun shook her head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t believe - ”

“ - He slept with his professors to pass his classes.”

Sunghyun blinked owlishly.

“Coaches, too,” Taehee interjected.

Sunghyun blinked again.

Heeyeon continued. “He broke up with his girlfriend in freshman year to sleep around - I talked to her once and she said he was doing it even before - ”

“ - It sounded like he slept with men, mostly,” Taehee interrupted, and Heeyeon nodded.

“Yeah. It was mostly men in the videos.”

“The videos?” Sungyun asked. She still looked floored. This is total bullshit, she thought. Taehee had been a notorious gossip through high school and if Heeyeon was still involved with her then she probably was too.

Shaking her head and waving them away, she tried her best to express her disbelief as words escaped her. “Never mind, I just - your lunch is almost ready, and I’m sure you have places to be.”

“You don’t believe us! Aish,” Taehee exclaimed. “I have proof, girl! Hold on, let me find - ouch!” Heeyeon elbowed her again, sending her a sharp look. “What? I’ll just show her a clip.” Heeyeon continued to glare at her cautiously, but Taehee pulled out her phone.

In the back, Yeongho slid the finished lunches through the window. Normally he would’ve disappeared back into the kitchen unless there was a regular he wanted to strike up conversation with, but the distressed expression on his daughter’s face made him pause.

“Is everything alright sweetie?”

“Uh, yeah - !”

“ - Are you Mister Gim?” Taehee interrupted. She seemed to have found whatever it was she wanted on her phone.

“That I am,” he replied.

“Do you know about Jeongguk?”

His expression grew just as puzzled as his daughter’s. “Our delivery boy? Yeah, he’s a good kid.”

“I’m sorry Mr. Gim, but he’s not what he looks like,” Heeyeon said, with a little bow of her head.

“Yeah, come look at this.” Taehee looked like she was desperately trying to hold back a smile. The effort just made her look condescending. Heeyeon hissed at her, saying something along the lines of this is too much!

A little befuddled, Yeongho took off his apron and tossed it over his shoulder, puttering out of the kitchen. Sunghyun was nervous for whatever it was Taehee had on her phone. Whatever she was about to reveal about Jeongguk was most likely something she’d rather not know - but there was a little part of her that was morbidly curious.

Yeongho emerged from the kitchen. “Alright,” he said. “What is this? If it’s something you wouldn’t show your dad, don’t show me.” He winked at Sunghyun then, trying to crack the tension. Humor was his coping mechanism for intensity. It didn’t work. His daughter still looked nervous.

Heeyeon peeked at the screen and groaned at Taehee that they should just go, but the girl pushed forward and revealed her damning evidence to the dad and daughter behind the counter.

It was not what Sunghyun expected to see.

The site Taehee had pulled up was already one she recognized - it was the one her twerp highschool boyfriend had threatened to post her nudes to when she broke up with him. It was well-known for similar content.

First thing Taehee showed them were the pictures. Pictures of Jeongguk in compromising positions with men and women in clubs, bars, bedrooms. He was never looking at the camera either; attention purely on his pleasure despite the pictures seemingly being from the point of view of his partners, at least for the most part. A few were taken by bystanders. She explained things further - names, places, times.

Some of them were in school settings; one seemingly through the cracked door of a classroom. In that one, he was bent over the desk of a professor, pants at his ankles, and the professor was bent over him. He wasn’t facing the camera. It made bile rise in her throat.

She didn’t know what to think.

Yeongho was unreadable.

The girls paid, wished her too-sweet tinny goodbyes, and left. She waved them off until they disappeared around the corner.

It was barely past lunchtime, and there was something unpleasant swirling in her gut.

Sungmin couldn’t decide what it was the feeling was. She could, however, recognize it. It was the same feeling you get when suddenly alone in a place with someone, or walking home after the sun’s set. There wasn’t an overt threat, really, just an elusive but potent instinct to be on your guard. It made her shift uncomfortably and realize how sore her feet were.

13:02.

Beside her, Yeongho sighed and leaned on the counter, playing with the edge of the apron slung over his shoulder. He looked conflicted. Lost in thought.

The shop remained empty save for the two of them.

“...Dad?” she said, after a moment of silence.

It broke him from his reverie, and he stood up with a tight inhale through his nose. Softly, he set the apron down on the window sill to the kitchen.

“I think I need to speak with your mother.”

🐯

Jeongguk arrives later, and he doesn’t even get to start his shift.

He realizes this when he walks in to see a delivery boy already there. Vest on, keys in his hand. He looks at him sympathetically as he passes him through the door, delivery in his arms. Jeongguk holds the door open for him.

The guy thanks him quietly and squeezes past. He looks sorry for him.

That’s not good, Jeongguk thinks.

He gulps and walks in. Past the counter. To the back. Into the breakroom. Mrs. Gim is there, waiting for him. They greet each other quietly.

For a moment, they stand there. Tense and awkward. She’d normally greet him warmly - fussing with his hair and checking whether or not he’d eaten lately - but now she just stood there, arms crossed. (Her finger twitched, though, when she saw a lock of hair that’d fallen into his eyes. He didn’t fix it. Shallowly, he hoped she would.)

He’s already shrinking into himself when she begins speaking. She begins with a sigh.

“We’re letting you go, Jeongguk.”

He nods. He’s not looking at her anymore. Instead, he examines the dirt on his shoes. The sole on the left on is starting to peel off.

Mrs. Gim waits, expecting a Why? that she thought was inevitable.

It’s definitely something he wants to ask. The word pinches at the tip of his tongue, but he holds it back. Why? He’s asked that question before, to other people he thought he was doing well with. And - so far, he thought he’d been doing pretty well here. Rarely late, quick deliveries, nice to customers. Maybe they aren’t making enough and can’t pay him anymore, but even then… why the other guy over him? He’s nice and all, but Jeongguk knows he performs better.

He didn’t like this feeling. It was familiar, and squirmed in his gut like a handful of worms, or maybe an eel.

A memory: Jeongguk, stepping into the bus stop by campus with his backpack and a cardboard box. It’s drizzling, and everything’s grey. Springtime. New beginnings.

Jeongguk didn’t want a new beginning. He wanted to go back, before everything went to shit and he lost everything.

He’s got no one now.

And he isn’t even sure why.

He’s not sure now, either.

Back then it’d been exile a cause de the internet, videos and pictures of things he believed private. Rumors stacked on rumors that scattered and fractured and grew in the kaleidoscope that was miscommunication, and he’d lost everything - his friends, his family, his support, his diploma. He never knew who wanted him gone. He only felt the result.

So now, it was that feeling again. That floundering sense of exile, read between the lines and felt with his gut.

He wanted to ask why. He’d been asking Why? for a year now. But no one would tell him. They either looked away, guilty but sympathetic, or glared at him as if he should already know.

So this time, he didn’t ask.

Mrs. Gim watched him through this, as he froze up and looked a bit sick, and then the light fluttered out of his eyes as he lived in a memory, and then as the light fluttered back in: hollow and grey like a moth. And then he nodded, not quite looking her in the eye, and left.

It surprised her. He hadn’t even said goodbye.

The walk home was a numb one.

🐯

Hood up, hands in his pockets. He wished he could listen to music but his earbuds had taken an accidental spin through the washer two weeks ago and he hadn’t replaced them. He walked past potholes and old cars, trash bins and stairways tucked in between buildings. Everything was so compact here. Like an anthill. The road could barely fit a car into it. It was so different from home in Busan - at least, the parts where he’d grown up. It’d still been the big city, but there was more room. You felt less anonymous walking down those streets, but here?

He felt like if he didn’t breath loud enough, he’d slip through the cracks and disappear.

It was a tempting thought.

His job at the Gim’s place had been his first real social interaction for months after dropping out of college. He’d had something to do other than rot in his apartment and pick up random jobs - he could talk with and joke around their family, and after awhile, the regulars greeted him too. He’d sucked up the attention like a sponge. It felt like something solid he could hold onto even as he hated his job, hated his apartment, hated his friends for leaving him in this shitty, anonymous, cracked city. It kept him from sinking. It reminded him of home.

So now… what?

He still had his night job at Gloss. Yoongi didn’t have any daytime jobs available, so he couldn’t convert to full time. So he’d need a new job. Even though he had money, now, from the auction robbery. He knew that, technically, he could simply… not work for awhile. But what would he even do in that free time? Nothing, probably. He’d just rot in his apartment. He needed a job; he needed something to do.

The thought made him tired. He kicked at an empty pop can, listening as it clattered away.

Left, down the alley. Down two blocks. Across the bridge. More blocks. Into his apartment.

He contemplates locking the door, forehead dropping onto it with a light thunk. He wonders if he has the energy. Is it weird to feel as strange as he does?

His posture straightens a little, and he forces himself to lock up before stumbling to the bed.

At some point he falls asleep. In retrospect he’s pretty sure he stared at the wall for a long while. If you asked him for how long, he wouldn’t remember.

🐯

The apartment stinks.

Y/N’s nose wrinkles into her face as if trying to hide the moment she registers it, having clambered over the balcony and slid into the apartment. She decides to leave the door open. Hopefully it’d air out a bit.

As she toed her shoes off, she made some observations. The smell was Jeongguk’s, definitely. Like honey and laundry detergent, with just an edge of sweat - overall, very nice - but this version was soured. Like honey that’d grown a skin of mold over the top. The musk was like dejection, exhaustion, and loneliness if it were distilled into a perfume.

She made her way into the kitchen, rooting around for one of the old scented candles he had stashed away; gifts from his mom once upon a time. This one smelled like coconut. (She’d never smelled one in real life, but if they smelled like this candle then she’d love to try one.) The cool vinyl was refreshing to walk on after a day wearing shoes. She didn’t like shoes. While climbing or sneaking around, it was hard to keep the claws on her toes retracted - so they often poked into and got caught in the insides. She’d rather go barefoot. Sadly, the city had a lot of sharp edges to cut her feet on. Glass and gravel and such. So it was a must.

Shoes, shoes. Jeongguk said to put the shoes by the door. She always forgets.

Filling a pot with some water, she leaves it to boil and goes to grab the shoes she’d left by the balcony.

There are a pair of shoes on the bed.

And - oh, there’s a person attached to the shoes.

Her neck hair prickles and she jumps, just a bit, before realizing it was just Jeongguk. A little strange he was still here. Doesn’t he have work? He’s still as a statue, black clothes blending in with black bedding. She was so used to him around that his presence didn’t alarm her the way it would anyone else. (A part of her says that could be dangerous, but the other part just begins to purr.)

He stinks even more up close. Why?

She doesn’t hesitate crawling over him, not minding if he wakes up or not. “Jeongguk,” she whispers. He doesn’t answer, so she nips at his ear.

He wakes up with a sharp inhale, head popping up off the pillow. “Y/N?”

“Who else?” she muses and settles in on top of him, tucking her nose into his neck. She quickly decides against that though and shifts down a little so her face is between his shoulder blades instead. He stinks even worse up close. The ears atop her head fold back in light dismay. “You stink.”

He snorts, dryly. “Thanks.”

“I’m not being mean. Why do you stink?”

“Saying I stink is mean. You’re mean.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

She bites his shoulder and he swats at her halfheartedly. That’s wrong, too. Normally he’d wrestle with her. Why does he stink?

“You’re worrying me.”

“Why, ‘cause I stink?”

“Yes.”

He huffs. It’s barely a laugh. Her eyebrows knit together a bit.

“Jeongguk,” she says, a little firmer this time.

“What?” He sounds a little irritable, and she growls at him a bit. He feels it more than hears it; a little rumble from her chest and up his spine. It’s not a threat. She’s just telling him to be nice.

He huffs, with a little less conviction this time, and sags back into the covers.

“Jeongguk, what’s wrong?” she whispers again. Her voice is a bit softer now.

“How can you tell?”

She shifted up, and nosed at the space behind his ear again despite the way it made her nose wrinkle. (He remembers her mentioning that his scent was strongest there. That’d been sometime after the second time she’d done this - he’d asked her why, not used to the contact, and she’d explained.)

“You stink,” she whispers.

Oh, he gets it now.

(“I can smell what you’re feeling,” she’d also told him. “Kinda.”)

He doesn’t reply for a while, and she gets even more worried. It’s moments like these that she dislikes: times where he can’t or doesn’t explain what’s hurting him, and she doesn’t know how to help properly. She admits she doesn’t have a lot of experience with comfort. Empathy? Absolutely. With cagedoggers and bastard abusers you needed to know how everyone was feeling when they had power over you; when to push, when to submit, when to be extra quiet. She was good at reading people from an arm’s length so she could best navigate around them and suffer the least damage. But - this? Offering comfort? She sucked at it. Even though she could tell something was wrong. Even though she wanted to help.

So she just pressed closer, despite the stink, wrapping around him and summoning the best purr she could manage. She wasn’t going to push it. But she wasn’t going to leave, either.

He was still, for a time. She adjusted to the smell. Still didn’t like it, still wanted to make it go away, but the overwhelming instinct to cover her nose wasn’t there anymore.

A little chuff tickled his neck.

It was the same noise she’d made when she’d saved him from the river. He’d done a little research on it later and learned it was a tiger thing. Reflected on how weird it was to hear it from a human. But he’d learned to take it for what it was - comfort. It wasn’t weird anymore. It was nice, actually. Familiar.

And for some reason, it made him cry.

She didn’t even realize until she heard him sniffle, and she panicked a little. Shit, she was terrible at comfort. Had she made him cry, somehow? “Jeongguk?” she asked again. It was quiet, but urgent.

She shifted to the side and tried to turn him over to look at his face, but he remained face-down in the pillow. He didn’t want to be looked at. There was a new flavor to the mold, now - this one smelled like shame, but she didn’t know what for.

She didn’t know what to do, so she defaulted to her go-to. Hold him.

He cried for a while. It wasn’t a pretty cry; it twisted his face into a grimace and blotched the skin from the tips of his ears down to his shoulders red. Part of him knew it didn’t look good, so he kept his face muffled in the pillow. It made him feel shallow. He still cared about looking good? Now? But the shame overcame the shallowness, and he kept hiding. He had a full-body tremble shaking through him. And he cried, and he cried, and Y/N held him as tight as she could. Her heart ached for him.

She didn’t know what to do with that ache. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the skin of his neck, though she wasn’t sure what for. She repeated it though, again and again, hoping that the warmth of her breath and the light flutter of her lips would help ground him.

To an extent, it did. He knew - from somewhere in the back of his mind, even as his body continued to tremble and grimace - that it’s so much better crying when someone’s holding you. Even though there’s some shame in it. Even though it’s the same sort of vulnerability as an open wound.

Losing his energy seems to be the theme of the day.

He stops crying when he goes numb and gets tired. He could cry more. He doesn’t feel better. But he’s out of tears, his lips are chapped, and his throat’s raw. There’s no more energy to keep crying.

Y/N presses in closer, like there was any space even left between them. He measures the rise and fall of her chest; tries to match it. Alright, maybe he’s a little better. Not good, but better. Raw is better than apathetic and tearless. Just gotta breathe.

In and out, on beat. A little better, yeah.

She rolls them to the side, a little worried he’d suffocate on the pillow. Her fingers weave into his hair.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

He relaxes with the gentle massage, even though his chest still feels terribly empty. A little debate takes place in his head.

One side argues to keep his mouth shut and go to sleep. He still has a shift at Gloss tonight. Being tired then is not an option. Not when he’s setting up needled tattoo guns and jars of ink around maybe-criminals. The other side, though - the less lazy one, maybe - knows that Y/N’s gonna worry her hair (and fur? no?) out. She’s seen him down before, yeah, but never breakdown like this.

Her ear twitches, and she mutters a “ - shit - ” before scrambling up over him and passing over to the kitchen. “Do you want some ramen? I had water boiling.”

The thought of eating makes his gut squirm, but he knows it’ll make him feel better. “Yeah,” he croaks. “Can I… water, too?”

“Mhm.”

As she rustles around in the kitchen, he rolls onto his back. His face feels stiff. His eyes are itchy, too. They shut, and it stings.

Y/N watches him from the kitchen. Different scenarios passed through her brain as she poked at the noodles with some chopsticks. Honestly, she was at a bit of a loss. They had money, they had each other; he had Gloss and the Gims and time to sleep. So, something else? There was still so much she didn’t know about him. This was a heavy reminder of that.

The world was really quiet, then. Just the bubble and gurgle of the noodles, the soft beats of their breaths, the gentle shuffle of fabric.

She dished up. Poured him a glass of water. Returned.

There was a soft series of clinks as she set the bowls down on the bedside table, pulling him to sit up so she could sit behind him. It didn’t seem like he wanted to make any eye contact now, which she understood. She wasn’t a big fan of it either in moments of vulnerability.

It took them a moment to settle. She made him eat first, just a couple bites. Had him drink some water. He appreciated it. It didn’t taste as bad as he thought it would. He was actually kind of hungry. It was easy to tell Y/N was bursting at the seams with questions, but holding back until he was ready. She tugged on his hoodie strings in the meantime.

“It’s a long story,” he finally said.

“We’ve got hours.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “You sure you wanna hear it, though? It’s baggage.”

He couldn’t see her, but he knew she glared then - as if saying Really? Like I haven’t unloaded baggage on you before?

“Alright, fine,” he muttered.

And then he took a deep breath, and began.

A / N: I have no goddamn excuse for not updating this long hGSGH.. but with quarantine yall can expect semi-regular updates from me now. this story sucks but im gonna finish anyway. i’m gonna try to set up an actual wip schedule and maybe even a masterlist if i can figure out how to decipher this bitch of a site

stay safe yall and uhhh dont lick doorknobs n shit 💞 thank u guys for waiting

Tag List: @feed-my-geek-soul @not-novoa @astronomyturtle @anoushe01@infiressnct @seokchella @dinorahrodriguez @mischiefmakerliesmith5 @studiojoonie

Tag List Glitches: @starryannaaa

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eatsleepandsupernatural · 4 years

Text

No Second Chances

Part 2

Pairings: Dean Winchester! Dad x Reader

Warnings: self-doubt, negative body image, eating disorder, anxiety/depression, mention of suicide, fluff

Word Count: 1873

A/N: Hi everyone, this is the second and last part of ‘No Second Chances’. I’m so sorry about the delay, things haven’t been running all that smoothly here, and I haven’t had time to write. I hope you enjoy this little piece. XX

Read the first part here: No Second Chances

The words echoed through your head, reaffirming years of self-doubt.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

“I said you weren’t ready.”

“You could have been killed.”

“You just aren’t strong enough.”

“What would you have done if you had been caught?”

Your Dad had made himself very clear when you had arrived back at the bunker. He was mad, justifiably so. For the past week, the two of you had been silently co-existing, too much tension remaining from the night of the incident to behave normally around each other. The morning after, Sam and Cas left to attend to the case that they had been forced to abandon, leaving you and Dean in the bunker to sort things out.

You had spent the majority of the week in your bedroom, only coming out to grab an apple when you were hungry and to use the bathroom. You expected today to be exactly the same. You stretched your arms as you step out of bed, the smell of cooked breakfast hit your nose as soon you opened your door. You approached the kitchen warily, unsure of what mood your father would be in. You stopped in the doorway and watched as Dean expertly flipped over pancakes with one hand and placed cooked bacon onto a plate with another. He picked up two glasses of orange juice, turning around to carry them to the table.

Your Dad smiled when he spotted you watching him. “Hey Kiddo, I was just about to call you. Have a seat.” Your Dad turned back to collect the plates as you sat down at the table. Your heart thumped, and your chest tightened, apprehension rolling off you in waves. You wiped your sweaty palms on you pyjama pants as you Dad sat down across from you with a big grin, one you struggled to return.

Dean made meaningless conversation while you eat, but your thoughts were elsewhere. You still hadn’t forgiven yourself and seeing him so happy just made you feel guilty for causing him pain in the first place. You threw him half-hearted smiles and nods when called for as he described a movie he recently watched in great detail. Once you had finished half of the food, your Dad had served onto your plate, you pushed it away and stood up.

“Thanks for breakfast, Dad, I’m full.”

Your Dad glanced up at you with raised eyebrows, “You haven’t been eating much lately, holed up in that room. Normally you eat bacon like you need it to breathe,” He leaned forward, one arm resting on the table in front of him while the other waved around in the air as he spoke.

You internally grimaced, his concern only heightening the guilt consuming you. “I really am full Dad. Gotta go take a shower.” You turned your back on your Dad and head for the bathroom, eager to wash away your feelings

You revelled in the feeling of the water hitting your face, washing away the tears as soon as they come. Despite the tears, you were at peace in the shower, it had always been a place where you would go to relax. At this moment you found yourself crying for your mum, craving the sound and caring advice she would always give when you felt less than human. Your mum always knew how to make you feel like you deserved to live.

After finally stepping out of the shower, you stood in front of the mirror and criticised every imperfection that you could see. You cursed at yourself for eating so much breakfast, you couldn’t risk putting on any more weight.

You got dressed and didn’t hesitate to take refuge in your room once more; however, you couldn’t ignore the anxiety growing in your chest. Your Dad making breakfast this morning was a clear sign that he was ready to clear the waters and move on. It wouldn’t be too long before he was knocking on your door asking to talk. You couldn’t stop the tears, and you curled up in a ball, wishing more than anything that you could be normal. Not only do you fail at being a daughter, but you also simply fail at living. You were constantly hurting your loved ones and yourself. You were so tired of making mistakes that you decided that this would be the last mistake you let yourself recover from. You were a burden on your family, and you knew that they would be happier without you anyway.

The knock at the door echoed through the room, and you froze in fear. Your Dad let himself in when you responded with a disgruntled yes.

“Hey sweetheart, thought it might be a good idea if we talked. You up for a chat?” Your Dad stood in the doorway of your room while he waited for a reply. When he didn’t get one, he moved closer to your bed and placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Kiddo, what’s wrong?”

You cried at the sound of his gentle tone and clenched your eyes shut. Now that he knew you’re upset, he wasn’t going to leave you alone until he knew that you felt better.

Just like you knew he would, your Dad slid onto the bed next to you and pulled you into his side. You immediately reacted, turning around under the covers to hide your face in his chest.

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, but we will have to talk eventually.” Your Dad said, rubbing his hand up and down your arm. You didn’t respond, just pressed further into his side, seeking the comfort he had always provided. The warmth your Dad gave you was enough to relax you, and you soon found yourself in a losing battle against sleep.

When you woke up, you were still curled up next to your Dad, one arm wrapped around you. Your Dad was frowning at his laptop and tapping the neck of his beer bottle with his index finger with a sigh, he placed it on the side table next to your bed.

“Another case?” You asked, raising your eyebrows when he startled.

“Could be. You feeling any better? You were out for five hours.” He closed the laptop halfway and gave you his full attention.

You squirmed a little, but the arm wrapped around your shoulders is firm and held you in place. You took a deep breath and thought carefully about what you should say. He would know if you lied, so that’s out of the cards, but you definitely couldn’t tell him the truth. “I was just a little overwhelmed, and I still feel terrible about what I did, but yea, I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

You mentally crossed your fingers that your answer was good enough for him, but when you saw his eyes narrow, you knew that you were out of luck.

“I’m sorry that you are feeling so overwhelmed, why didn’t you talk to me? I’ve been trying to talk to get you to talk to me for the past week.” Your Dad struggled to keep his voice even, and you worried that there was something else bothering him.

“It’s fine Dad, really. It was a one-time thing, nothing to talk to you about. I didn’t think you wanted to talk to me after what I did.” You turned away from your Dad, instead choosing to pay close attention to the duvet covering you. It was silent for longer than you had expected as your Dad decided how to reply.

“Do you remember that time you ate my pie?” Dean asked.

Your head whipped back up to your Dad’s face, his mouth pulled into a smirk; however, the dull emotion in his eyes did not match the smile.

“I remember you accusing me of eating your pie. It was probably Sam.” You replied without missing a beat, and your Dad let out a small laugh before his face rid itself of all expression.

“I decided that considering you’re my daughter, you would probably never admit it so the best way to get to the truth would be to install cameras in the kitchen.” You tensed, knowing where this was going, and he glanced down at you. “This week had me curious, so I have been watching the footage. Turns out that if Sam, Cas or I aren’t feeding you, you aren’t eating.”

You remained silent, ignoring the fiery gaze burning into the side of your face. You thought that maybe if you ignored it for long enough, it would disappear.

You were wrong.

“(Y/N), it’s okay, I’m not mad.” Your Dad broke the silence, his voice cracking.

You gave in and you told him everything. You told him about how you were ashamed of what you look like. Of how you weren’t strong enough to hunt. You told him that every time you let him down, it hurt more than you could ever put into words. You told him how you believed that you were a burden and that you thought his life would be easier without you in it and he sat and listened to all of it. He patiently waited while you blew your nose through snotty tears, and you couldn’t help but think that he was the best Dad in the world.

“Come on, sweetheart.” He stood up, pulling you with him and dragged you out to the kitchen. He sat you down at the table before moving away to make some food.

After watching your Dad prepare some food in silence for five minutes, you decided that you would rather be anywhere else. “It cool if I go and watch a movie in your room while I wait? It’s kind of cold in here.”

Dean furrowed his brow, considering the question before giving you a hesitant nod. You gave him a wide smile in thanks and left. You wouldn’t have been surprised if he had said no and you were incredibly grateful that he wasn’t too overbearing.

You put on Big Hero Six, your favourite Disney movie, needing a good dose of Baymax, and curled up in your Dad’s bed. Despite your state of mind, the film brought out a few giggles, and you felt your mood lift slightly.

Half an hour into the film, your Dad appeared with two bowls and passed you one, getting into bed next to you. You looked down at the bowl and up to him in surprise.

“You made Chicken Carbonara from scratch?”

“Just eat it.” Your Dad gruffly responded before shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth.

You fell asleep not long after you finished eating and Dean was turning off the movie when Sam and Cas were walking down the hallway in search of him.

“How is she?” Sam asked as Cas walked over and placed his fingers on your forehead.

“Her body is weak, I don’t think she’s eaten more than one meal a day in a very long time. I’m sorry, Dean, I should have noticed this earlier.”

Your Dad looked up from where he was playing with your hair to meet Cas’ eyes. “Don’t worry about it, man, we’ll fix it, we always do.”

#dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #supernatural one shot #supernatural #supernatural fic #Protective Dean #winchester daughter #SPN #spnfamliy #fandom #spnfam

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kileyrose-2003 · 4 years

Text

Rose the Hat x Fem! Reader

A/N: Hello lovelies! This request was made by @mewbleu I hope you enjoy. I'm sorry it took so long to write. Bare with me everyone as I have another imagine coming out this week and part 2 of the fanfic coming soon.

Warnings: Child death, violence, implied alcoholism, blood, implied sexual content, violence against children

From the time you were small, you always knew you were different. Your parents both had the shining like you. They always insisted it was good thing, a gift in all actuality and that you were special. Most people couldn't do things like project out of body or see things so far in advance it benefited others, but you could.

Though you didn't know if being special was a good thing in your case. You had a natural healer energy and people often grew attached to you but with its pros came its cons.

Dark entities or 'ghost people' as you liked to call them, sometimes found their way to you. The pretty woman in the hat being the most recurring one in particular.

She was different than all the other ghost you seen. For one thing, the beginning interactions you had with her were friendly but also she wasn't dead. She was alive.

When you first talked about it with your mom she was confused. She too could see spirit but they never were alive.

Your mother thought she had to be dead based off the way you described her. While your own parents raised you in a very bohemian upbringing and they considered themselves to be hippies, they didn't dress like Rose.

They didn't know anyone who still owned silk top from the sixties and had such antiquities adorn in their hair. At first she brushed it off that maybe you were mistaken and that maybe it was possible you did make friends with some young hippie that may be possibly dead but it didn't bother her. She was oddly happy for you.

In the beginning, Rose was sort of your friend in a way. It brought you a sense of warmth that you never felt before. You didn't have any friends your age that could do any of the same things that you could and while Rose was far from your age, she'd still show you little tricks with her mind and reaffirm your thoughts and that was good enough for you.

"I feel lonely," You told her one night as her apparition stood in your room, staring at you silently from the empty side of your bed. "My mommy and daddy are like us but I didn't know there were people like you out there who could see ghostie people too."

Rose smiled at you and sat down at the foot of your bed. "There are alot of people like us out there. It's just a matter of finding the most special ones and you my darling, are very special."

The words brought a smile to your face and you blushed, feeling a sense of secureness in knowing that it wasn't just your parents who seen how different you were.

"Thanks. Am I ever going to meet you, pretty lady in the hat? I like you." Normaly you enjoyed Rose's smile but in that moment the grin on her face hinted at darkness that laid below the surface of her beautiful front.

"Maybe when you're a little older and you have more magic in you but for right now, no." You frowned and Rose reached her hand forward to take your petite one in hers, although it did no good because your hand sunk right through her transparent ones.

"Don't be sad though, it's a good thing," She reassured you. "Okay." You laid back in bed and rolled onto your side. "Goodnight, pretty lady in the hat."

"Goodnight, Y/n." She'd stay with you until you fell asleep and when you woke up in the morning, she'd be gone. It was an enjoyable having a friend like her.

As you got older though, the more you started to question just exactly how much of a friend she really was.

You had a baby sitter who was a bright, young college student who liked to indulge your 'over active imagination' as she called it but you didn't mind that she didn't understand. Just that she listened to you was enough to make you happy to be around her while your parents were out.

The one night as you got ready for bed you begged and begged for her to braid your hair. Of course she obliged but it wasn't without curiosity.

"Can we put ribbon in it too?" You asked excitedly, practically bouncing up and down. "Like weave it in there?"

You nodded excitedly and she attempted to add the ribbon in. "Did you see someone on TV with their hair like this and that's why you want it like this?"

You giggled and shook your head. "Not on TV, in my room!" The girl would of been lying if she said she didn't feel a hint of chills running down her spine.

"Your room?" You nodded happily and snuggled your patchwork doll close to your chest. "Mhm. She's really pretty but she doesn't have ribbon in her hair though."

"Oh? What does she have then?"

"Buttons and yarn. I think she might have that metal thingy on a bike too."

Your baby sitter narrowed her eyes. "A bike chain?" You shrugged. "Maybe. I think that's what it's called anyways. What's the matter? You looked scared."

The young girl shook her head and smiled. "I-it's nothing, sweetie. Come on, let's get you all tucked in bed."

You eagerly snuggled into the covers, hiding yourself away from the cold outside. "Sweet dreams, Y/n. Dream safely."

"Goodnight," You hummed softly and rolled onto your side, quickly drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

When your parents got home later she voiced her concern to your mother in quiet. "I know Y/n is different from other kids she..understands more but I just thought I'd tell you because I thought it was a little alarming."

"We've known about this for a while," She mused as she watered some of her plants. "I don't see her. Y/n does but I'll look into it."

Over the next few weeks your mom began asking more about Rose, trying to pry information about her out of you.

"Why does her name matter?" You snapped as your mom tucked you in. "Because if she's your friend you should at least know her name. So what it is?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. She never told me."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know mommy. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay," She hummed and kissed the top of your head. "Goodnight sweetheart."

"Night mommy." You rolled over onto your side, staring at the wall for a while. By that point Rose would of normally be already sitting at the bottom of your bed, but not tonight.

'Maybe she's busy.' You told yourself as you pulled your stuffed doll close to your chest. "Goodnight pretty lady in the hat," You mumbled into the air and began to drift off to sleep.

Normally when you slept it was uninterrupted and deep but that night was different. You kept tossing and turning. Not because you weren't comfortable but because something was wrong somewhere.

After another ten minutes of rolling around you sat up in bed, still holding your doll close. You looked around your room for a few seconds, trying to find anything that could be the source of discomfort but nothing.

"It's just like pictures in a book," You whispered aloud and closed your eyes. "They're not real." When you opened your eyes you found yourself standing in the middle of the woods. The weather was warm and muggy. Even in your light fabric pajamas, you were hot.

When you breathed in you could smell the overwhelming aroma of embers burning from a campfire. You let out a cough and followed the burning light through the woods.

'Don't do it.' That inner voice inside said but you pushed it away, thinking that maybe if you seen what was going on you could help. But something kept pulling you forward.

We are The True Knot

What is tied may mever be untied

We Endure

Your made your way down the beaten path and what was there horrified you. A group of people stood their. Like a chain of paper dolls or snowflakes chanting.

You seen your mother do chants in her meditation but this was completely different.

The worse part was the body on the green grass. The girl on the ground was maybe your age. 5 to 7 years old.

You heard the name Violet being whispered in your ear and you let out a scared cry.

A cloud of what you hought was campfire smoke was above the group. Next to the body was Rose. Her hands like bloody gloves confessing to her sins and a man with intense eyes. Like a Crow. They all turned to stare at you.

The pretty lady in the hat, no Rose! That was her name, smiled at you contently. "Well! Hi there!" She greeted and you immediately started to cry.

"Aww, what's wrong sweetie? Aren't you happy to see me?" You shook your head, backing up towards a tree. "Y-you can't hurt me when I'm like this!"

"Oh silly girl. I'm not going to hurt you." She pinned you against the tree and you dug your little hands into the bark.

"Then what are you going to do to me?" You sobbed and Rose knelt down to your level. "I'm going to keep you here. Don't you want to go home and join our family?"

Her hand bore down on your wrist hard enough to hurt and you let out a scream. As Rose was about to drag you away a light shined above the two of you and the entire space faded away into darkness.

"Get the hell away from her!" Your mother bellowed and Rose let go of your wrist. "Mama!" You cried and looked up at the light.

Rose growled and narrowed her eyes. "You just messed with the wrong bitch! She's mine!"

"No, she's not!" The environment around you both shook and Rose went flying into the darkness and before you knew it you were back in your room, crying into your mother's arms.

"It's okay," She soothed and kissed the top of your head as she rocked you back and forth. You cried and held onto her shirt.

"They killed her!" Your mom rubbed your back and let out a pained sigh. "I know..I know."

You sobbed into her that whole night, desperately wishing for the first time in your short life you weren't special.

You felt hurt that someone you had grown close to could hurt someone like that. It was a recurring theme and lapse of faith in yourself you had to deal with every day over the years.

You never seen Rose again after that but her presence in your house left an aftermath of chaos and your mother devoted all her time to protecting you from her because she was sure even if it wasn't in the near future you would see her again.

It tore your parents relationship apart and not after, they both decided to go their seperate ways. Even though both of them insisted it had nothing to do with you, you couldn't help but blame yourself.

Everything was so normal and so at peace until she came along. As you grew older you grew to despise her and tried your hardest to block her out of your thoughts but sometimes your memories of her managed to slip back in. The pain she caused you was so great it was hard to forget.

You were twenty now and on your way back from the grocery/ liquor store run when you felt like you were being watched.

It was unusual because after the whole ordeal with Rose, you were paranoid of being watched to begin with but this was a different feeling. Someone was in your mind.

You were about look out of the mirror of your car to see if anyone was behind you when you felt your phone ringing in your pocket.

You pulled it out and answered and as you turned into the road leading to your apartment complex.

"Hello?"

"Y/n?" You let out a sigh and grip the steering wheel. "Hi mom."

"Why haven't you called me? It's been three days since I've spoken to you."

"I know, mom. I-"

"Have you been drinking?"

You looked down at the bag of liquor sitting in your passenger seat. "No," You answered carefully. "Of course not."

"Bullshit. You forget you lived with me as a teenager and I know your drinking voice."

You drove up into your parking spot and stopped the car. "I know, mom. I know."

"Then why are you lying to me?"

"C-can we please just get off the subject?!" You whispered harshly and grabbed your bag of liquor off the seat.

"Sure, sorry. I just worry about you, you know?" You could hear the tiredness and hurt in her voice.

"I know mama. I'm sorry," You whispered softly and walked up the stairs to the second floor. "It's okay sweetie. How was your day?"

You put the key in the lock to your apartment door. "It was alright. I went grocery shopping today."

"How was that?"

"Good." You opened the door. "I got some really cool looking-" You seen a woman sitting on your sofa and let out a scream.

"Well, hi there!" You dropped your bag of groceries on the floor, picking your head up to look in your living room.

"Y/n?! Is everything okay?" You debated on saying something but Rose made a silent tutting gesture with her hand.

"I-i'll have to call you back," You mumbled into the phone. "And if I don't, know that I love you."

"What?" Your mother screamed. "Y/n, don't hang you up on me! Y/n! Y/n-" You hung up and shoved your phone in your pocket.

"I-i remember you. You're the-" Rose smiled viciously and stood up from her spot on the sofa. "The pretty lady in the hat? Such a fitting name for me, isn't it?"

You nodded nervously, eliciting a giggle from Rose. She was by far the most beautiful woman you'd ever seen but mixed in with that beauty was her insanity. Just by looking in her eyes could tell this woman was an utter psychopath.

"No need to be scared of me, sweetie." She kicked the bags of groceries aside and moved closer to you, pinning you against the wall. "I told you you'd see me one day."

"What if I made up my mind?" She grinned and caressed your cheek. "Why on earth would you want to do that, huh? Still such a bright and clever girl, so so pretty too."

You lowered your head, refusing to look at Rose. "What do you want?" She picked your head up with her fingers and held it high. "I want to take you on a trip. Don't you want to meet my friends? I remember you did when you were little." She placed a kiss against your cheek.

You pushed her away and Rose looked on at you slightly taken aback. "No, I don't. What I want is for you to get the hell out of my apartment."

Rose shoved you against the wall and caressed your cheek. "My, such a temper. You know, I don't care for being talked back to."

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut, feeling so small and trapped. "Please let me go."

"Aww, no sweetie. No, I won't. You already got away from me once and it won't happen again." She kissed your neck, nipping at your cartilage afterwards. Her bright, murderous eyes you remembered all too well shone when she pulled away and you felt the hair on your arms stand straight up. "Still such a special little thing, aren't you?"

You gasped and tried to run from her but Rose was quick, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist. "Only a little pinch."

"No! No! Please!" You begged, hearing her uncap the needle. "I'll see you later, sweetheart."

"No! No-" The needle of the syringe pricked the sensitive skin on your neck and as Rose pushed down on the plunger flunge you felt yourself going limper. After a few seconds your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you dropped to the floor.

"That's it," She cooed and scooped you up in her arms. "Hope you're ready for our little road trip." She carried you out to her trailer and you were never seen by anyone who knew you again.

Part 2

A few hours later you kicked and screamed as Rose carried you out of the RV. "No! No! No!" You begged and flopped against her. "Please..please! I won't tell! I swear."

"Honey, it's not personal and I know you wouldn't but it's just not a practical option." She dropped you on the ground roughly and the other's began to tie you up.

As you stared up at the sky in distress, you pictured Violet's little face in your head and felt your anxiety rise.

Tears started streaming down your cheek and Rose stood infront of you. A part of her that still felt attached to you hurt to see you in pain but she needed to eat. The whole family did.

She raised the knife above her head, balancing it inbetween the tips of her fingers before resting it at her side. "Are you going to hurt me? Like you did to Violet?" Your inside burns and you felt like you wanted to throw up.

"Yes." You let out a pained scream as she rubbed the blade against your cheek. "Pain purifies steam, fear too. So now you understand."

"No!" You sobbed as you watched Rose raise the knife above her head. "No, Rose..please.." You continued to beg until she plunged the knife deep into your calf.

You shrieked and a large cloud of steam came floating out of your mouth. You felt weaker as the steam came out but the worse was sense of humiliation you felt. Like you had been violated or stolen from.

"Oh damn!" Rose rasped in an almost sexual tone. "Even at your age, you taste so good. Like flowers and liquor."

She clamped her hands around your throat and you winced, squeezing your eyes shut as you felt your steam poured out of your mouth more. You choked on your own sobs and dug your hands into the dirt.

Rose's eyes softened a little bit, her glowing blue orbs staring into yours. "So much fear for most of your life, huh?"

You didn't respond to her and Rose roughly tugged on your hair. "Answer me!"

"Yes!" You barely managed to scream out the word and let out a pitiful whimper. "W-why?"

"Why what?" She spat, keeping her firm grip on you.

"Why me? You could of had Violet, any other girl that was born around the time I was. Why me?" You didn't meet her eye. "I-i didn't want this! I didn't ask for any of this. I just-"

"Just what?" Rose asked softly.

"I just want to be normal! I don't want to special anymore. I just want to be loved. I just want it all to stop!" You hitched a sob and Rose released the grip on your neck.

She stood up and paced back and forth, trying to get her head back in the game.

"Rosie, you okay?" Crow stood up to her level. "Yeah, I'm okay..I just..you know what, it can wait til later."

"You're sure?" He asked.

"Yeah." She ran her thumb over your cheek as if to give you some comfort and raised the knife above her head. You squeezed your eyes shut, expecting to feel pain radiating through your body but nothing happened.

Why couldn't she hurt you? Rose, who considered herself to be quite numb to the feelings of others but highly intuned with her own needs didn't know. Even after everything you seen and how long it had been since she seen you there was something about you, some steamy element that made her feel attached to you like a magnet.

"I-i can't do it.." Rose stabbed the knife into the dirt beside you and put her hands over her face.

"Why not?" Crow asked, trying his hardest to keep his infrequent temper at bay. The rest of The Knot looked visibly displeased and hungry which set your anxiety even higher than it was.

"I-I feel something for her." Rose's eyes brimmed with insanity and you tried to squirm away her despite the pain radiating through your left leg and the restrains on your wrist.

"What? Rose we don't feel things for a Steamhead. If you keep it alive it's dangerous. It will-"

"I know!" She tightened her grip on your wrist. "She's special though and like I did many years ago, I want her." She let out a maniacal laugh that made Crow's shoulders stiffen. "I fucking want her." She stared deep into your eyes.

"I just want to go home!" You sobbed, fat tears running down your cheeks. "Shh.." Rose wiped your tears away with the back of her thumbs, staining your skin crimson with your own blood. "It's okay."

"No, it's not! Please just let me go home," You begged. "You know I can't do that. Can you all start untying her, please?"

The others nodded and quickly did as she asked. "Then what are we going to do with her?" You heard the Crow ask.

"I have a different plan for this one because she's special. Fitting how everything comes around, right sweetheart?" She gestured to the little scar on her hand.

You gritted your teeth in pain and spit in her face. "Fuck you." You raised your good leg up in the air and connected your heeled boot to her pretty face.

"Oh, you little bitch!" Rose screamed and raised her hand at you, swiftly smacking you across the face before falling back. It was loud enough for the sound to radiate for a good distance and you winced it the stinging sensation on your face.

Rose was distracted by the pain and others seemed to paying you no attention at all. You seen your chance to make your get away and made a run for it as soon as you got the chancs.

The dirt beneath you kicked up into the air as your shoes collided roughly into the ground. Your blood sputtered out on impact and the further the distance you walked, the limp increase.

Your chest felt tight and everything burned but your fight or flight instincts were on high and you were ready to take on everything or anyone.

As you began to slow your running pace you could vaguely hear the sound of bare feet crunching against the leaves behind you.

"Y/n!" You struggled to straggle forward as the light limp in your leg grew worse. "Where are you, honeydoll?"

You found the nearest tree close by and grabbed onto it, flinging yourself behind it. "I know you're around here somewhere."

The crunching of the leaves stopped momentarily and you could feel eyes burning in your direction. "You know if you're going to run from me then mine as well you try and cover your tracks. I see your blood."

"Shit." You darted out from behind the tree and tripped over a cut down stump from a tree that previously grew there.

You pulled your already injured leg up to your chest and slid backwards against the dirt each step Rose took closer to you.

"Y/n-"

"Don't! Just get away!"

"Y/n-"

"No!"

You squirmed back forward and Rose got frustrated, roughly taking your wrist in her hands. She knelt down to your level and your eyes interlocked with her stormy grey ones.

"If I was going to hurt you, I would of done it by now." You nodded nervously. Rose ran a finger across your cheek. "Poor darling, you're so cold and bloodied." She grabbed you enough your arms and lifted you up. "Come on."

"W-where are you taking me?" She grunted as she placed your arm around her shoulders. "To my trailer. I have a first aid kit in there. I should be able to fix you up there."

"Okay." You nodded lazily, starting to feel the blood loss getting to you. You fought for your eyes to stay open and keep moving.

"Just a little longer, Y/n." Rose winced and helped you up the stairs to her trailer. Once you got inside she set down on her. "There we go, lay back."

You willing complied and rested your head against one of the many pillows Rose collected over the years.

"This is going to sting, okay?" She warned. You nodded and gripped onto her blankets as she put the hydrogen peroxide over your cut.

You hissed in pain and bit down on your lip. "Fuck." Rose laughed throatily. "I told you it was going to sting. Maybe if you didn't run from me none of this would of happened."

"Well maybe if you weren't trying to kill me I wouldn't of ran!" You spat defensively. Rose glared and began to wrap up your leg.

"..I told you I was going to let you be." Your eyes went wide. "After you stabbed me! Rose, I just want to go home."

"I can't do that sweetheart." As she finished wrapping up your leg she helped you sit up on the bed. "Then what are you going to do with me?"

"Option A: You go outside and I let whichever member of my family that is standing closest by drop you off somewhere and let you wander around bloddied in the woods because I will strip you of your bandages and I can't promise it will be painless death or, you stay here with me."

You looked away with uncertainty in your eyes. "You don't have to be turned yet if you don't want to but you will want it eventually, I reassure you." She grinned.

"I could never be like you." Rose rolled her eyes. "Oh please, you rubes know nothing on what it's like to be us. To live like the kings and queens of humanity and the pleasures in the aftermath of taking steam and the chaos that ensued afterwards."

"Killing people makes you horny?" She laughed. "More amorous then anything, my sweet." She got her knees and leaned forward to kiss your lips. "I can give you a comparison on the steam part, if you'd like."

You shoved her away. "No, I don't want you to touch me like that. Ever." For a reason Rose couldn't fathom, she had to push away some pain caused by your words.

"It's not going to be a terrible existence, Y/n." She took your hand in hers. "You kill people, Rose! I seen you kill someone."

"Violet? Oh yes, we actually just finished her steam a few days ago. It made me think of you."

"And you tried to kill me! I can't trust you as far as I can throw you!"

"You learned to like being around me as a little girl. I can't why you can't learn to again." You glared at Rose. "Because I thought you were my friend."

"I still am, aren't I?" Rose was met with silence. "Y/n, for fucks sake would you just say something?"

"I-" You broke down in tears and Rose felt a pang of guilt blooming inside her. She pulled you close to her and ran her fingers through your hair.

"You took everything from me!" You sobbed into her. "I know. Either way we were going to have you though so you should of just gave in. Some of it is my fault though." Your tears soaked her chest.

"I feel so broken..and so confused! I just want to be loved but I don't know how to even love me anymore!"

"I know and we'll fix that. Come on, don't cry." You sniffled and tried to wipe some of your tears away but they just kept flowing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You kept saying over and over again. "Shhh..it's okay. Nothing to be sorry about."

"You scared me when you killed Violet. You scared me!" Rose wiped your face off with her sleeve. "I know but it's all out of survival and I won't hurt you like that ever again, I promise."

You nodded and wiped some of the tears away, just trying to calm yourself down a little bit. "So what do you say?"

"I'll stay." Rose grinned and placed a kiss against your cheek. "Good." She pulled you down on her bed and wrapped her arms around your waist. "You're freezing. I know ways of warming you up, you know."

You let out a laugh which brought Rose some relief. "Maybe when in a few days when I'm back to normal."

"Whatever you're comfortable with." She ran her fingers through your hair. "Get some rest, please?"

"You won't leave me?" You asked softly. "I won't. I promise." You let out a peaceful sigh and nuzzled closely to Rose's chest.

She drew small circles on your back with her fingers and sent you waves of relaxation. "Sleep." You eyes fluttered shut and soon you succumbed to a peaceful slumber.

Rose stayed up for a while, searching through your mind and taking in all the information about you she missed from the years you spent apart.

"So much anger and fear." She whispered softly. "Bouncing back and from place to place and surpressing who you really are. Oh yes, you're going to be a clingy little thing for a while but I don't mind."

You shifted in your sleep and Rose tightened her grip around you. "Relax, you're home now."

"Home," You mumbled softly in your sleep and Rose smiled softly. Sne placed her hat down behind her on the bed as if it was a prized crown and spooned you. "Yes, home. Just exactly where you're supposed to be."

#rose the hat #doctor sleep #dr sleep #the true knot #imagine #x reader #x fem reader #x female reader #crow daddy #fanfic #fanfiction #the shining

64 notes · View notes

jimlingss · 5 years

Note

I've been a silent reader for at least a couple of years!! Huge fan!! I always come back to your stories! 💜 As for ideas for stories, maybe an au set in joseon or goryeo eras, or maybe a e2l of some sort idk. Best of luck to you!! Hope you have an awesome day!

Anonymous said: feeling a yoongi royalty au? 👀

Anonymous said: *gasp* you’re doing request? 🥺 can I request an arranged marriage with jimin or yoongi? btw I love your student council series so much 💕

↳ A Fire Flower

3.4k words || 1% Fluff, 99% Angst || Min Yoongi || Historical!AU

Warnings: Murder and gruesome detailes

You run.

“Princess! Princess! Wait!” The servants behind you are shouting, grabbing their gowns in fistfuls, shuffling their feet forward. But they’re far too slow.

You glance behind you, laughing and sneaking off to the left and then the right. The whole line of your servants pass by your hiding spot and when it’s silent again, you slip into the East pavilion. You make your way past the gardens to the guards standing by the stables.

You approach with your spine straight and your chin high in the air. The guards automatically bow their heads. “Princess.”

“Give me your sword.” You motion to the left guard, but they exchange expression with one another. “Hurry!”

“But Princess—”

“You dare go against my order?! Do you know who I am?!” Your voice booms. “I am Emperor Yin and Queen Seo’s daughter. If you dare to go against my orders, you are going against the orders of my father!”

The lowly guards fall onto their knees. “We wouldn’t dare, princess.”

A smirk pulls on your lips. “Then hand me your sword now.”

Once it’s in your reach, you unsheathed it. The blade shines against the sunlight and metal hisses as you take it out fully, grasping at the handle tightly. You try to give it a swing and hum in satisfaction.

You point at the right guard. “You there. Fight me.”

“Spare me, princess!” He falls onto his knees again, this time with his head pressed to the dirt. You roll your eyes. “I would never dare to fight someone of noble blood. Your father would never forgive me.”

“Are you trying to make me angry?” You laugh mockingly, pulling up your long sleeve. “I’ve had training before. You won’t harm me so easily.”

“Princess…” The stupid guard is relentless as he is irritating.

“Princesses shouldn’t play with such sharp toys when they don’t know it’s a weapon,” a low voice speaks and you know that familiar timbre anywhere. You turn around to address a man with black hair. His eyes are narrow, reminiscent to that of a sly cat, his lips thin.

Min Yoongi, son of a minister and part of the Min clan — your betrothed.

“What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that.” He smiles and points to the blade you’re holding. “Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

You stare down at it and for a moment you regard how sharp and intimidating it is. Your eyes look back up at him. “It’s not dangerous if I know how to use it.”

“Well, do you?”

“You can teach me.” Your eyes glisten. It sounds even better after you say it out loud. So you approach him with your arms behind your back, leaning down, lashes fluttering. “Please?”

Unfortunately, your coy and cute act doesn’t have much of an effect on him as it does on your father.

“Shouldn’t a girl like you be doing something else than sword fighting?” Yoongi sighs, but he still unsheathes his own sword.

You scoff, pointing the tip of the blade at him. “Say that again, and I won’t forgive you. I refuse to go flower viewing or practice calligraphy again.”

Yoongi wears that arrogant smile of his that you absolutely detest. “You’re confident, aren’t you, princess?”

“Of course I am. I don’t have any reason not to be.”

He nods. “Let’s play then — if you can wound me, I’ll convince my father to cancel our engagement.”

Your eyes are wide before a smile spreads into your face. “I will hold you accountable for your words.”

“Please, don’t hesitate, Princess.” He waves you over and you run forward, swinging your sword and attacking his neck. But he defends himself instantly with a clang of his sword.

Yoongi smirks and your own lips fall into a straight line.

“Ha!” You try another swing. There’s yet another clash of silver blades.

He’s acting as if he’s entertaining a child and it makes you angrier. With all the strength in your arms, you thrust out your sword. Yet, he deflects it with a simple flick of his wrist. You flash, lurch forward, swing. Yoongi uses one hand, doesn’t even blink, doesn’t even flinch.

“You will never win against me, princess.” Yoongi smirks. “When will you come to accept that?”

Your teeth grit. You raise your arms to try to hit him — but you’re interrupted by a roaring voice.

“What’s going on?!” The servant announces that the Emperor is here and you instantly drop the sword, grinning and running up to him.

“Father! I didn’t know that you’d be here.”

He tries not to show that he’s already giving in, that his strict facade is melting at your coos and the way you hug his arm. “I heard you ran away from your lessons again.”

“Only because they were boring.” Your nose scrunches in distaste.

“And so you’re out here causing trouble again?” He looks off and the guards fall onto their knees, heads downcasted, already begging for forgiveness. “Who gave her the sword?!”

You pout. “Father, I asked him to. It’s not their fault. And Yoongi was just teaching me.” “

Your majesty.” Your betrothed gathers his hands together, bowing his head to greet the King. “The princess seemed interested and I was teaching her how to defend herself.”

The Emperor sighs and nods. “I’m glad there’s someone to look after her.”

You stomp your foot in indignation. “He doesn’t look after me!”

“I made sure to go easy on her, your majesty,” Yoongi informs shortly and you gasp in offence, frowning at him. He ignores you, but you see that little smile on his face. You should’ve just skewed him when you had the chance — he’s so infuriating.

“There, there, don’t be upset.” Your father pats your back, already seeing the way your features were twisted, on the verge of throwing another one of your infamous tantrums. “We can’t always be good at everything.”

“If I had a proper teacher, I’d be better at it.”

Your father smiles softly. “Your mother would never allow it. If she knew you were here, she’d be angry. Let’s not make her that way.”

You pout again, fiddling with the fabric of your extravagant skirt. Yoongi smiles and puts his sword away. “If I may, your majesty, I must go speak to my father.”

“Of course.” He nods his head, dismissing the younger male and you watch him leave.

You end up walking with your father, the servants left behind as you stride up the bridge over the river, staring at the flowerbeds. “I see you’ve been close to him these days….” your father notes, giving a knowing smile.

You tear your eyes away from the flowers — something you never cared much for when there were much more exciting things. “He came out of nowhere to make me angry. We aren’t close!”

He laughs heartily, nodding his head with his arms behind his back. You brush his dragon robes, how majesty he looks in gold and red. But up close, you realize how old he’s gotten, strands of hair gray, wrinkles marring his expression. You sigh, looking at your own reflection in the water.

“Must I marry him, father?”

“Why? Do you not enjoy his company?”

“It’s not that….I just….I don’t want to be made to do something. I know I’m not allowed, but I want to be able to choose. If the princess of the kingdom cannot even choose her own partner, then who can?”

“Some things in life you cannot choose. Fighting will bring you more pain. You must only come to accept them,” he says, but you don’t understand what he exactly means. Your father meets your eyes and is firm. “You must. It’s important for us to have ties to the Min clan. Not just for you, but for our kingdom and our people. Sacrifice must be made sometimes.”

You huff, unable to comprehend why you must have ties with the Min clan. Your father is the Great Emperor — he shouldn’t need anything from anyone. “You only want me to wed to him because he’s the son of the finance minister.”

“He is also a kind, patient, and highly educated individual. You both have compatible fortunes as well. He will make a good husband and father. There is no one better than him.”

“You’re better.” You hug his arm and underneath his robes, you can feel his bones. It’s no longer like when you were a child and he could lift you without batting a lash. “Can’t I stay by your side forever? You, mother, Taeho, and I. I don’t have to go anywhere. I don’t have to join another family.”

Your father laughs joyfully. “You can’t be naive all the time, child. What will happen when I die? Would you really want to be alone with no one to keep you company?”

“You won’t die for a long time,” you reaffirm. “And I’m sure Taeho wouldn’t mind having me around.”

“Palace life is difficult, child. I only wish the best for you.”

“Then reconsider my marriage with Yoongi,” you coax. “Or at least…give me some time. I don’t want to wed him when we barely know each other.”

It’s silent until he finally makes a noise at the back of his throat. “You’ve been arranged to marry him for years now. Delaying such a promise back will not be an easy one.”

“It’s not like we’re breaking it,” you tell with a grin.

Your father nods. “I will reconsider.”

That’s enough for you to throw your hands in the air and giggle, pulling him in a tight squeeze that garners his chuckles. You might not win against Yoongi in terms of strength, but you have your own ways.

Little do you know just how dire the consequences are for your selfish wish.

It’s the middle of the night, a new moon that has the sky blanked in black, that you hear footsteps on the roof of your room. You’re brought out of your slumber, rising to stare at the shadow cast at your door, a mysterious silhouette that paint itself outside.

You shout, “Who’s there?”

You gather your blanket to hide your underclothes, screaming at the shadow until it moves. Until it opens the door. And a boy with blanked hair and cat-like eyes greets you. “Yoongi?”

“We need to go.” He approaches and his sword catches the light, blinding your eyes.

“What?”

“Hurry.” He pulls the blanket and grabs your wrist.

“What are you doing?!” You resist, but he yanks your hand to his chest and you lose your balance, until you’re caught by him, body pressed against his. His gaze is deep and boring into your eyes. The close proximity renders you speechless.

“There’s no time to explain.” He brings you out of your room, but you’re slowed when you see the orange flames, the smoke curling into the air.

But what takes your attention isn’t the fire. It’s the red on the walls and paper windows. Stained splotches of red that look like they’ve been sprayed. Blood.

“What’s going on?” you ask desperately, tears welling in your eyes, voice catching in your throat.

He hides behind a pillar, peeking you out while keeping you right by his side. “We’re being overthrown by the ministers.”

“What?” The syllable spills out harshly off your tongue. “How dare they? Where’s my father?!”

“He’s been captured.”

Your blood runs cold. Your heart stops beating. Your stomach drops. You feel sick, like you might throw up. But there’s no time for any sort of reaction like that, not when Yoongi pulls you along, running to the next hiding place.

You stumble on your feet. You’re too slow.

Someone calls out. “Sir!”

Yoongi halts. He hesitates. The stranger calls out to him again and there’s a rush of footsteps that follow, clanging of armour. They’re not the palace guards coming to save you. They’re rebels. “Sir?!”

Yoongi steps away from behind the wall. He drags your body out. He holds your arm up as if you were a prize that was meant to be caught. “I have her.”

You whirl your head to stare at him, knees trembling.

Yoongi swallows hard. “Bring her to my father.”

You’ve been betrayed by your betrothed. You scream his name in agony and rage, spitting it out at the top of your lungs. “Yoongi! Min Yoongi! You son of a bastard! God will damn you! Let me go! Let me go this instant! Do you know who I am?! I am the princess! You all will die! The minute my father gets his hands on you—!”

Your voice shrieks, tearing from your throat, bloodcurdling. But your defiance and resistance doesn’t last long. You’re pushed and shoved into the throne room, gasping when you see your father, mother, younger brother tied up. Each with a sword pressed to their necks.

“Y/N!” — “Sister!”

You sob, unable to run to them when you’re being held back, physically restrained.

The man standing beside your father turns around. He wears a smirk you find all too familiar, his eyes cat-like and narrowed into you. Yoongi’s father has his arms behind his back, proud that he was the minister who orchestrated this all.

“How dare you!”

“Y/N.” Your father is quiet and composed. “It’s okay.”

You’re shoved onto your knees. Yoongi’s father smiles, walking over slowly to hover above you. “Here’s a sight I’ve never seen before. The entire royal family bowing down to me….and his precious, little daughter so vulnerable.”

His finger brings up your chin, looking at your face in the dim candlelight. You flinch away to glare. “Heaven will never allow you to rule,” you curse him in spite. “You do not have the divine right—”

“And you think your father does?” he laughs, mockingly. “Your grandfather won the throne through blood and betrayal. I’m not doing anything different from what he has done. I am merely taking back what should’ve never been yours. For too long, I’ve waited and let this nation suffer. I thought my son could one day save it, but that was a wish too inconceivable. I will not wait anymore. It’s time for it to be brought into a new era of prosperity.”

“Prosperity?” your mother hisses. “Do not mask your greed for altruism.”

He scoffs and the corner of his mouth curls. “My greed is not the one to be spoken about, Sowon. You’ve killed and harmed countless girls to achieve the position that you have. Your list of crimes is too long to know.”

“Don’t speak to my mother that way!” you scream at him, “You are a traitor. You all are.” You face the ministers surrounding you, horrified that they’re content with allowing this to happen, that they merely divert their eyes and stay silent. “And you will pay for your crimes!”

He chuckles, lifting his hand and instantly, the guards press their swords tighter against your throats. The blade nearly breaks skin and draws blood.

The minister paces around your father. “Yin, you have been found to have committed treason against the country during your rule, acting against the nation’s interest in order to protect your family, and for this, you will pay with your life.”

He shuts his eyes as you shriek. Your father merely murmurs, “Protect the crown prince.”

Your family sobs, tears dripping onto the floor. The minister pulls out the Emperor’s own sword, but instead of decapitating your father’s head from his neck in a single swing, he tosses it on the ground, right in front of you. It clangs horrifically and you wince.

“Betray your father the same way he has betrayed the nation. Go against your filial duty and your mother and brother’s life will be spared. If not, they will die.”

A high-pitched shriek rings into your ear, horrified and pained — and it takes a moment until you realize it’s your own. The held blades begin to cut into your throat, into your mother’s and Taeho’s.

Your eyes widen, shocked, breaths staggering. You’re staring at the silver blade. You don’t notice Yoongi who has run to the entrance of the throne room, his shadow casted on the door.

“I….I….”

“No! Don’t!” Your mother shrieks, her hair falling in front of her face. Her honour is lost, name smeared with dirt.

Your father opens his eyes again, adorning a soft smile and he nods towards you. You know that look of his. “You must protect your brother.”

“I…” Tears shed down your cheeks. You’re forced to stand by the guards, held by the collar of your attire. The sword is shoved into your hands, the tip of another pointed at the small of your back. “I can’t…”

“You c-can.” Your father tells. “It’s okay.”

Your mother and brother wail, crying. Blood begins to drip to where the swords are held against their necks. You tremble, staggering forward, pushed and shoved. Your father shuts his eyes and you’re brought in front of him. “I….I can’t….”

Suddenly, your father reaches out. He grabs a hold of the blade tightly, sinking his hand into it and he throws himself forward. He runs the sword into his body. Blood spits from his mouth, spraying onto your cheek.

You drop the sword, staggering back. Broken sobs are caught in your throat. Your heart stops, hands shaking, and you collapse. Breaths pull out of your lungs — you can’t breathe no matter how much you gasp. Your father looks at you, nodding his head, and then he slumps over.

All at once, the other guards slash down at your mother and younger brother. Cruel and unsparing. The last of your family’s wails are cut short. “Sist—!” And they fall over.

Blood drips down from the sword in thick puddles. It trickles like summer rain. And it spreads, coating the golden floors of the throne room in the shade of carmine. Your hands become wet and warm with your family’s blood.

You can’t feel your body.

“Shall we kill her, your majesty?” the guard asks the minister, waiting for his signal.

Yoongi’s father smiles. He walks over the bodies, unsympathetic that his shoes are soaked in scarlet. He tilts your chin up with his index finger. “It would be a shame if such beauty went to waste.” He smiles and stands straight. “She will become my courtesan.”

“Yes, your majesty.” You’re dragged upwards by your arms, legs dangling like a doll.

“Prepare her and bring her to my room tonight.”

As you’re dragged out, you watch Yoongi’s father climbs the steps up to the throne.

You’re brought out into the darkness, carried by two guards. But suddenly, they whimper, falling onto their knees, slashed on their backs. They drop dead.

You barely manage to hold yourself up, but you feel yourself being shaken, a faraway voice raspy and speaking to you. You’re dizzy, world spinning around you, not sure if you’re dead or alive. But you find cat-like eyes that you detest to the core of your being in front of you.

You’re pushed forward by him, stumbling towards a horse by the stable. You know it’s your only escape, your only opportunity. It’s the only thing your numb mind can focus on, and with the rest of your strength, you climb up onto it.

You lay on the animal it and it cries out, hooved digging into the dirt as it sprints. You try to hold on with your blood stained hands.

But you glance behind you once more to the palace engulfed by fire.

Min Yoongi — you will kill him and his father. You will crush their limbs beneath your feet before beheading him slowly at the bottom steps of the throne. You will come back and you will slaughter every single one of them, the ministers, the rebels, the traitors. You will avenge your family and clear their names by hanging their heads out on display. It’s a vow you swear yourself by.

Your hands are already stained with blood — more of it wouldn’t matter now.

#Requests 2019 #bts angst #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #bts fanfic #the ninth of my twelve requests #this one's an interesting one #I'm not mad at it at all #Jimlings #Anonymous

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luckyfirerabbit · 4 years

Text

Jaune Doe: pt 7

(short and sweet, it’s how it came out)

It's been hills and valleys for him the last couple weeks. The nightmares come and go in waves, a few nights on, then off, then on again for a few more. His appetite is inconsistent but he doesn't appear to have an issue with it, though the staff is worried about his weight. But, on the positive side, they've got him off the IV completely and are managing his pain rather well with Ibuprofen. He's up and walking as expected. His concussion is healing as it should as well, but his memory is still spotty at best. Aside from his sleep disturbances his mood is stable, even pleasant, and he's able to tolerate what few visitors he receives with little issue.

Today, however, Jaune is noticeably concerned, lounging in his bed and staring at the ceiling with a sever knit to his brow. His transfer date is coming up and he doesn't know what to do. Pyrrha said she would figure it out, or at least help him do it, but she hasn't brought him anything yet, not even the copy of his file that she promised.

What's going to happen to him? Will they just toss him out? No, no...would they really?

"Knock, knock,"

Jaune blinks out of his troubled haze, reflexively smiling. "Hey, Pyrrha, I was just thinking about you."

"Oh yeah? Good things I hope." Oh my gods, why did I say that? She's starting to second guess herself already.

"You could say that." he lilts his head, noncommittal. "Everything okay? What's in the bag?"

"Well," she knows he's referring to the duffel bag she has in one hand. She approaches the bed and sets it down near the foot of it, asking for permission to sit on the edge before continuing. "I actually wanted to talk to you about your transfer."

"Oh, good. What did you find out?"

"I've got all the information on the hospital campuses available for you right here." she props her briefcase on her lap and opens it, passing him a folder that he had expected to be much thicker. "Most of them are nearby, and a few of them have single occupancy units so you could have some privacy if you wanted."

"That's great, thank you." he takes the papers, seemingly genuinely relieved. "And what about the copy of my file?"

"That's here too." she's still sifting through everything she keeps in the case, producing another pale colored file.

He shows his gratitude through a short lived but heartfelt smile, though the expression kinks with curiosity. "And the bag?"

Pyrrha snaps her case closed and takes a sharp, stabilizing breath at the same time. "I...bought you some clothes. I had to guess your size for the most part, but...yeah. There's some hard-soled slippers in there that should fit you, too, at least until you can tell me your shoe size."

"Pyrrha," he's stunned, "y-you didn't have to do that."

"I know, I wanted to." she can't look at him, focusing on her hands and the way her fingers drum at the edges of her briefcase. "I also wanted to ask you something."

"Besides my shoe size?" the little chuckle at the end sounds nervous.

"Yes," she laughs in turn. "I was wondering...I applied to be your sponsor. If you want...you can come and stay with me."

His brow creases, a mixture of concern and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. His hands fumble with the papers he's holding, eventually settling to let them sit atop his thighs when he draws his legs up. "I...you didn't...why would you do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," his hand reaches back and cups his neck, rubbing out the anxiety he feels mounting in his chest. He lifts his eyes and meets her gaze briefly. "It's...shit," he pushes his hand through his hair, fingernails in his scalp and catching on a cut he forgot about. "I don't know how to say it without sounding like an asshole."

"Then just say it, it's okay." she assures him.

"What's your angle?" he blurts out, feeling the shame of the hidden accusation immediately.

Part of her thinks she gets it, it's the same part that pushes down the little hurt brought on by his suspicion. After everything he's been through -just the stuff she knows about- how was he supposed to trust her like that? It's a wonder he has any trust for her at all.

Eventually Pyrrha just smiles and waits until he looks at her again. "Like I said before, I just want to help."

He still holds a certain uneasy wariness in his face. "And if I say no?"

"Then that's your choice." she nods once. "I'd hope you'd accept the clothes, though, considering you don't really have anything," she laughs, an attempt to break the tension that she's certain fails, "but you're welcome to say no. I'll still be your advocate, I'll still work on your case and make sure you're taken care of. Nothing changes."

Jaune hears sirens in his head, warnings, some vicious and desperate thing screaming for him to retreat. It's a trap is all he can think, in spite of everything he's seen -he knows- to the contrary.

For a moment the two just look at each other, and Pyrrha eventually takes that as a sign. She eases to her feet, her brief case tucked under her arm.

"Take some time to think it over, and just let me know when you've made a decision, okay? Until then, if you need me, just have someone page me."

He nods. "...Thanks." he offers timidly.

"Of course."

---

Every so often Pyrrha will skip her evening trip to the gym in favor of dinner out with her coworkers, which usually consists of Blake or Billy or Sahv, or some combination of the three. Tonight it's Blake and Yang joining her at Magic Wok. The three of them manage to get a booth tucked away in a relatively quiet corner, the perfect spot to sit and talk without disturbing or being disturbed by others.

"Am I an asshole?"

Blake coughs as her food goes down the wrong pipe, causing Yang to reach across to pat her lover on the back as she gapes at Pyrrha from across the table.

"What on earth makes you say that?" Blake sputters once she's able.

Pyrrha shifts in her seat, uncomfortable under their joint scrutiny. "I mean...maybe asshole isn't the right word,"

"Damn straight it isn't." Yang insists. "That's the last word I'd ever use in regards to you." she looks to Blake. "You okay now, baby?"

"I'm fine." one last cough. "But seriously, why would you think that?"

"Well, like we talked about, I told Jaune I was willing to sponsor him." she prods the tangle of noodles on her plate with her chopsticks. "And...just like you said he might, he got defensive and kind of...shut down."

"So why would you think you're an asshole?"

"Because," Pyrrha slouches, putting her hands in her lap as if she can hide her discomfort. "I just...I hate when I upset people. Especially when I just want to do the right thing."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't take it personally, because you're doing that anyway -that's right, I've got your number, superhero," Blake's felid ears match the asymmetry of her eyebrows, "but I don't believe he got defensive simply because it's you. It's because things are changing for him again, what little stability he has is about to shift and he doesn't know what to do, if there's anything he can do. And that's probably coming from a long time of having no control over his own fate or well being. Then, of course, there's the more than likely possibility of general trust issues."

Yang takes a long draw from the straw in her drink, her brow furrowing as she swallows. "He's probably convinced this is just some elaborate scam, and the minute he agrees to go home with you, all hell's going to break loose."

And part of Pyrrha knows there's not much she can do to change that for him. Jaune would have to discover for himself if she was trustworthy, if what she was offering him was real or some cruel joke at his expense. She shudders at the idea of just how bad he might think things could be, a man who -while drugged out of his mind and mad with pain- still had the wherewithal to be terrified and fight back against those that were trying to save his life.

"If what he went through was anything like," Yang continues, pausing to put a crispy rangoon in her mouth and tuck it in her cheek. She'll gesture with her hand, knowing they both know what she means. "Gods only know the kind of head games he's had to navigate until now. But I agree with Blake, I don't think it's because of you."

"I know, I agree with you too, just,"

"Just you're a micro-manager and this is something you can't change." Blake explains knowingly. "But you've got a good enough head on your shoulders to let it run it's course."

"I certainly hope so." Pyrrha sips her drink. "And I don't want to influence his decision so I'm keeping our visits to a need-only basis."

One golden brow rises. "Want me to influence him for you?"

"Yang," Blake warns gently, half-heartedly.

"No, I'm serious. Listen," Yang shoves down another rangoon and swallows, leaning towards Pyrrha on one elbow. "He doesn't understand the kind of person you are, he probably thinks you're like some fucking unicorn -all mythological and sparkly and too good to be true. Let me talk to him, I mean, you've been meaning for me to anyway, right?"

"True." Blake nods.

"But he should make this choice on his own." Pyrrha reaffirms. "He deserves that."

"He also deserves the best chance at recovery and getting his life back together." Yang counters.

"Also true." Blake chimes, seeming more focused on her food than the conversation.

"And I think you can give him that chance, Pyrrha. Hell," she laughs, easing away, back into her own space in the booth. "If it weren't for you, I might not have met Blake, so you basically saved my life."

Pyrrha blushes and tries to hide her face, failing miserably. "I just got you the referral."

"Semantics." Yang waves her hand in dismissal. "So let me go to bat for you, just this once, and I promise I won't use my impeccable charm for evil ever again."

Blake laughs, almost choking on her food again. Once she's able to she quickly swallows.

"Come on; I kind of feel like you owe me after not letting me curb-stomp your ex."

"Yang," Pyrrha exhales hard, appalled more so at herself for the effort it takes not to laugh than at Yang for the comment. "He wasn't that bad,"

"Bullshit." Yang points a finger at her, sharp, decisive.

Blake clears her throat, takes a quick drink. "Being in denial doesn't change the truth of the matter, Pyrrha, it would be better if you just accept it."

"I've gotten better at it." she admits meekly. "Just...I don't think anyone deserves to be curb-stomped. Believe it or not, I'm not a huge fan of violence."

"Well I am," Yang's finger has changed to her thumb and points back at her, "and as far as I'm concerned, a man who hits his wife deserves a helluva lot worse."

Pyrrha sighs and smiles. "And while I appreciate how fiercely protective you both are of me, it isn't necessary."

"You heard her, down girl." Blake nudges Yang with an elbow.

Yang tucks close to Blake, diving face first into the crook of her neck. "Woof,"

"Oh my god," Pyrrha groans, "check please,"

#Jaune Doe #jaune arc #pyrrha nikos #bumbleby #blake x yang #blake belladonna #yang xiao long

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jootjootscrazyadventure · 5 years

Text

Loveless Egypt

SFW

Another day in Egypt passes by. Still on the hunt for Dio and fighting his goonies. I've noticed with each fight, Jotaro gets more and more distance from me. Later that night, while we sit alone in our shared hotel room, I get the nerve to ask him what's wrong.

"JoJo, Is everything okay?" I asked. A long sigh leaves him. This can't be good.

"Look, (Y/N), I've been thinking about us and I don't it's working out." My heart dropped. Tears well up in my eyes.

"I-I don't understand. What do you mean?"

"I'm breaking up with you, (Y/N), I'm sorry. I just...Don't feel the same way about you." My breathing stopped, a pain in my chest formed. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't move or talk. I knew begging Jotaro wouldn't work. I swallowed the lump in my throat and ran out the door. I didn't know where to run to. I was just running through the halls of the hotel and heading for the front door.

"Y/N?" I heard Kakyoin as I ran. But I didn't want to stop. I just kept running. Finally, I stopped. Standing alone on a deserted beach. My knees collapse under me and I fall on to the sand. I finally let my heart out. All the tears fall to the sand. Every now and then, a throaty wail would escape me. As my emotions get the better of me, my stand, White Moonlight, appeared next me. Her face looked just as sad. We sit on the beach alone for what felt like hours. I hear multiple footsteps coming behind me.

"I don't wanna talk about it, guys." Kakyoin, Polnareff, and Iggy walk up to me.

"We're not asking you to talk about it. We're just here for you." Kakyoin said. Iggy jumps onto my lap as the other two sit down on either side of me. I pet Iggy, thinking over everything. Tears start to pour out of me again. I lean my head on Kakyoin's shoulder and cry. He leans his head on mine and Polnareff holds my hand. Despite not wanting to talk, I end up spilling my feelings to them. They seemed just as shocked about Jotaro breaking up with me. The sun begins to rise and the streets become busy again. The boys suggest going back to the hotel. Polnareff offers to switch rooms with me.

I got into my room with Jotaro, to collect my things and move into the room with Kakyoin and Iggy. Luckily, he's not here. After moving my stuff, Mr. Joestar calls us to meet in the hotel's cafe to discuss further plans. As I walk into the cafe, everyone at the table looks at me.

"Miss (Y/N), What is wrong?" Avdol asked.

"Oh, uh it's nothing."

"But you're eyes are so red and puffy. Are you getting sick?"

"Yeah, probably."

Cutting the conversation short, I turn to Mr. Joestar and wait for him to tell us his plans. He goes on to tell us that we should get moving to the next town, and to be weary of stand users along the way. Dio has sent even more men out to hunt us down.

After packing up the car, I take the window seat behind Mr. Joestar. Iggy jumps on my lap again, and Kakyoin sits next to me, then Jotaro next to him. My heart breaks as I see him. I turn my head to look out the window. Sandy dunes pass us. When we get to the next town, we check into the small hotel. But, I've made a decision on the way here. So I call everyone to my room. I take a small breath and start to talk.

"Though this trip is serious and Dio needs to be defeated, I am no help to guys. I can not act as if I am okay and strong enough to stay and fight. I've called the Speedwagon Foundation and I'm heading back home in the morning. They are sending a helicopter for me." Silence rests among everyone. Faces shocked.

"But we need you. You and White Moonlight are an unstoppable force. You can't leave." A hint of sadness is heard in Kakyoin's voice. I shake my head and reaffirm my statement. Later in the night, I walk out to the balcony. White Moonlight appears next to me again. Her face seems worried.

"I know you don't want to leave. But I can't handle this." As I end my sentence, Star Platinum appears as well. Him and White Moonlight look at each other and hug.

"Guys, please. This is already hard enough." Star Platinum comes over to me and kisses my cheek. A sad 'Ora' leaves him.

"I'll miss you too, Star. I'm sorry it didn't work out." I begin to choke up again. Star kisses White Moonlight and disappears. I look out to the ocean. Tears flow down my face. I try my best to keep quiet, not wanting to wake anyone up. I head back inside and lay down.

Morning arrives and I'm filled with dread. I took noticed that Kakyoin has already left the room. I go to take a shower, change, and pack my stuff. I slowly walk down the hall and to the car park outside. Everyone is standing there, waiting. I take a deep breath and walk over to them. Kakyoin and Polnareff are trying to not cry to each other. Mr. Joestar and Avdol still seem confused on why I am leaving. Iggy is glaring up at Jotaro, who is paying me no mind. A gust of wind blows as the helicopter gets closer and lands.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, guys. Come see me if you're ever in Japan, okay?" I walk over, hugging everyone except Jotaro. We stare at each other before I turn away to get on the helicopter. A strong hand grabs my shoulder. I turn back to be faced with Star Platinum.

"Star, don't do this." He caresses my face.

"Ora..Ora."

"I love you, too, Star." I kiss his cheek and turn back, getting aboard. Everyone waves goodbye until I am completely out of sight.

*Jotaro's P.O.V*

I shove my hands into my pockets and head back inside the hotel. Kakyoin stops me.

"This is all your fault, you know." I roll my eyes.

"Yare Yare."

"Don't just play this off. Explain why Star Platinum was sad and tried stopping her from leaving."

"I don't know."

He glares at me. The Old Man walks over.

"What do you mean this is Jotaro's fault?" He asked.

"Jotaro broke up with (Y/N) a few nights ago. She ran out of the hotel, crying. She was alone on the beach for hours after that. And she was crying again last night on the balcony." The Old Man looked surprised. I turn to walk to my room. They continued to talk.

"He said he didn't love her." I stopped in my tracks. My heart dropped. I pull my hat down as a few tears leave my eyes.

"This mission is no place for a relationship."

"That doesn't mean you break her heart."

"You don't understand. Do you have any idea how hard it is to watch the person you love fighting stand after stand? Risking her life to save mine. I couldn't handle seeing her getting hurt."

"So it's okay for you to hurt her instead?" Kakyoin asked. "What if we don't make it out of this mission alive? She'll go the rest of her life wondering what she did wrong for you to not love her."

"Well what the hell do you expect me to do now? She's already gone! I can't just leave this mission to go play Romeo!"

"Jotaro. Do you love her?" The Old Man asked. I looked away.

"Look, I'm not one to really put my emotions out for everyone to see."

"Jotaro!"

"Yes! I do! But I can't do anything about it now. She's gone. She's heading back home. I already broke her heart. I don't expect her to come back to me or the mission."

"I'll get a hold of the SWF and see what they can do. Maybe delay her from heading home."

*Reader's P.O.V*

An hour into my helicopter ride, and I'm rethinking everything for the hundredth time. What did I do to Jotaro? He seemed so head over heels for me, which was completely out of character for him. I look out the window, seeing how far from the ground I am, I get sick feeling and look away. Just then, a loud 'ping' hits the air vessel. Moments later, another and another hit.

"Miss (Y/N), I'm sorry but we have to take an emergency landing. It seems we are being fire at." A SWF member yells back to me. Landing in the empty desert, I hop out, getting White Moonlight ready. A tall man approaches us. Hol Horse.

"Well well well, look who we have here. Where's your boyfriend and posse?"

"They're not with me. I was on my way back home. But I'll make you my last fight before that."

Hol Horse fires at me. I dodge and send White Moonlight. She wraps him up and disarms him. As she tries to paralyze him, he cuts her face with a knife he was hiding. A gash appears on my face and blood drips from it. A high pitched scream comes from White Moonlight, causing Hol Horse to drop his knife and lose mobility. She then uses Nerve Manipulation to make him punch himself. Blood and spit come from his mouth. His right eye is black and blue and nose is broken, also dripping with blood. As I turn back to get back on the helicopter, Hol Horse gets up and shoots at me, grazing my arm. Swerving away from the bullets, White Moonlight flies at him, throwing punches. A few bullets manage to hit my arms and legs. Finally, Hol Horse manages to run away, giving me a break from fighting.

"I'm sorry, Miss (Y/N), but we'll have to stay in the nearest hotel until the foundation can send us another helicopter." I sigh and start walking with the foundation members to find a hotel. Finally getting to the hotel, the foundation members check us in and I head to my room. I plop my stuff down in the bed and get in the shower. The warm water stings my open wounds.

Getting out and drying off, I hear a familiar sound. Two actually. The sound of Polnareff being stupid and a strangely comforting catch phrase. "Shit. Really?" I say to myself. I groan. I'm supposed to be on my way home. Damn Hol Horse. Maybe I can avoid them. It shouldn't be long before the foundation can send another helicopter, right?

I hear a knock on my door.

"Miss (Y/N), are you dressed? May I come in?" a foundation asks. Well, there goes avoiding them. I roll my eyes and open the door.

"What is it?" I ask

"I'm here to inform you that it will be at least four days to get a new helicopter. So, please, make yourself comfortable here and don't hesitate to ask us if you need anything." I thank him and watch him walk away. I then hear tiny feet running followed by bigger feet running. Suddenly, Iggy is in my room and I slam the door shut.

"Iggy! What the hell?" He growls, not know it's me at first. He then jumps on me and begins to lick my face. Another knock is heard at the door.

"Excuse me, I believe our dog ran into your room. I'm terribly sorry for the trouble he's causing. Could you please open your door?" I hear Polnareff say. I sigh. "Goddamnit." I open the door just a bit to let Iggy out. I go to close the door when a foot stops me.

"I know that smell. That's strawberry and cream shampoo with a mix of rose perfume."

I curse at Jotaro's keen sense of smell. I open the door fully. A mixture of happy and shocked gasps leave the group.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were heading home?" Kakyoin asked.

"I was and am. Hol Horse caught us for a minute and fire at the helicopter, disabling it. I fought him but he ran away. The foundation is sending another one in a few days." Jotaro shoves past everyone and looks at my wounds. His eyes grow big with worry.

"I'm guess that's where these wounds came from? I wish I was there with you." He caress my face, being gentle with the gash in my cheek. Tears well up in my eyes. I'm full of mixed emotions.

I look up at him. A tear escapes over my eyelid. Jotaro wipes it away with his thumb. Star Platinum appears and shoves everyone out of my room, closing my door.

"Rude! A simple 'We need a moment ' would have been just fine!" Polnareff yelled.

"I-I don't understand."

"I was being stupid and selfish. I broke up with you in hopes you would head home. Seeing you fight pained me. You risk yourself for me. I couldn't handle it. I wanted you safe." Jotaro wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head.

"I'm sorry." I hug him back, letting out my tears. He smooths my hair. He picks me up and sits on the bed with me in his lap.

"You st-stil l-love me?" He chuckles.

"I never stopped and will never stop loving you. I was stupid. I should have just talked to you. I went too far. I hope you can forgive me?"

I lean my head up and kiss his strong chin. A smile appeared on his mouth. Star Platinum appears, begging me to release White Moonlight. I giggle and release her. They reunite in a strong hug.

"You heard me crying that night, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. That's why I sent out Star. I couldn't face you after what I did."

Star Platinum touched the gash on White Moonlight's face that matched mine. He saw the grazed wounds from the bullets. His face became angry. Upset oras left him.

"Calm down, Star. They're okay, now. We have nothing to worry about. They were able to fight him on their own." Star Platinum kissed her cheek. They fade away back into us. Jotaro grabs my chin and looks at me. His blue eyes shined into mine. My heart felt warm and whole. He leans down to kiss me. The kiss is long and passionate. I could feel how much he loved me in his kiss.

"Never leave me, Jotaro. I can't handle it."

"I don't plan on it, baby. I'm so sorry. I love you." Jotaro's uncharacteristic words surprise me. I blush at how sweet he's being.

"I love you, Jotaro."

//This was honestly cheesy but I loved it. I wrote it on a whim. Thank you for reading.\\

#jojo no kimyō na bōken #jojo's bizarre adventure #jotaro x reader #jotaro kujo #fan fic writing #fan fiction #fanfic #part 3 jojo #part 3 jotaro #3taro

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ansheofthevalley · 5 years

Text

Till The Sun Grows Cold And The Stars Grow Old - Chapter 7: Why Does It Hurt So Much? [Part 1]

Summary: Sansa is finding taking care of her loved ones more difficult than she anticipated. It seems as though the games of King's Landing have followed its players to Winterfell. But how much can one hide within its walls? And for how long?

But that's not all that worries her. Words prove to be incredibly powerful: an enemy trying to get to her; a family discussion; a confession made late at night... But there's also a soft gaze and a touch that set her skin aflame.

Why does it all hurt so much?

"Lord Varys, I didn't expect you to see you so soon" Sansa said to the Spider, remembering the conversation she had with him the previous day, before she and her family told the Lords and Ladies of their current situation. And of Jon's parents, the voice in her head added. How Jon wasn't her brother but her cousin, the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and her aunt Lyanna. She tried her best to keep her emotions at bay, the thought of Jon out of her head.

"Well, I'm afraid, my Lady, we weren't able to finish our conversation" Varys declared, bowing his head just a little.

"I think we did" she offered. She could remember how he was trying to convince her on making her union to Tyrion Lannister "official". “You were very clear on your stance, Lord Varys, and I like to believe I was very clear on mine. I think there's nothing left to discuss".

"Forgive me, Lady Sansa, but I'm afraid it's not our last conversation that brought me here today".

"Then what is it that brought you here today, Lord Varys?"

"Your family. And the future of Westeros"

Sansa felt worry starting to take root in the pit of her stomach. Nothing good can come out of people trying to play with her family as if they were mere pieces of Cyvasse.

“Please, sit”. Ever the courteous lady. “And what is it exactly what my family can do for the future of Westeros, Lord Varys?”

He dedicated her a sweet little smile. Innocent even. There’s nothing innocent about this man, the voice in her head reminds her. “Your House is one of the few Great Houses that’s still standing. As you know, House Tyrell and House Martell no longer exist. So, you can understand the importance of connections, Lady Sansa”.

“Of course, Lord Varys. I assume you’re hinting at my House’s connection to the Vale and the Riverlands. Am I right?” she pointed out. Sansa knows that House Stark is vital for the future of Westeros. After the execution of Littlefinger, the Houses of the Vale reaffirmed their support of House Stark and Northern Independence. And now that House Frey was extinct, her uncle Edmure could retake his position as Lord of Riverrun. The three kingdoms make more than half of Westeros.

“You are correct, my Lady. From all of the people of this country, your family is the most well-connected” he agreed. “Which is why you understand why I think it would be beneficial, to everyone involved, to join Houses in good faith”.

Sansa sighed. Not again, she thought. She wouldn’t let it happen again. I’m not some plaything that can go from man to man so I can appease people, she thought, bitterly. Good faith be damned.

“Lord Varys, I’m afraid you’re losing your time, as well as making me lose mine. I’ve already told you, I have no intention-“

“Just think about it, Lady Sansa” he begged her. “What better way to heal the realm than to unite two Houses that were once enemies, but now can rebuild Westeros”. His voice was hopeful. He truly believed there was a chance she’d agree to it. “You are a highborn Lady, with a great mind for politics. Tyrion is a clever man, one that made it his main goal to restore Westeros to its peaceful days. Think of the thing you could accomplish together: the greatest minds of Westeros, united as man and wife, united as Lord and Lady to save the realm”

Sansa felt an urge to laugh. If it weren’t for the fact that, once more, someone was trying to make her marry a man she had no interest in marrying, she’d find the situation hysterical. But truly, all she wanted to do in that moment was scream and be left alone.

She tried to keep her emotions in check before speaking. “Lord Varys, I’m sure you have other matters to tend to, so I’ll go straight to the point”. Her voice was low and calm, just as the skies are before a winter storm. “Your efforts are futile. Flattery and pretty words won’t work. I won’t honor the vows I was forced to say at the Great Sept of Baelor”. Her voice was firmer now, leaving behind that quiet strength. “My marriage to Tyrion Lannister was a farce. One that happened so the Lannisters could secure Winterfell for themselves. Not only was I a prisoner of House Lannister when I was forced into that marriage, I was just a child. I’ll grant you; Lord Tyrion was always decent towards me. He never forced himself on me, he respected me. But that’s where my gratitude ends. I don't owe him anything. Nor do I owe anything to anyone else”.

Lord Varys looked amused. As if he was enjoying a mummer’s farce in a spring fair. This only irritated Sansa more, even though she tried her best to not to let it show.

The Spider started tapping his fingers on the top of Sansa’s desk. “I was afraid you’d say that” he admitted. “Well, not quite like that” he granted. “I must say, Lady Sansa, behind your image of a Lady, you truly are a daughter of the North”.

“Is there anything else you wished to discuss, Lord Varys?” she asked, paying no mind to the compliment.

“Yes, actually” he replied, his face turning more serious. “There’s the matter of Jon Snow”

“What about Jon?” she hastened to ask.

"Well... He's a very impressive young man" he started. "He's a bastard that rose above his station. He was Lord Commander of the Night's Watch; the North chose him as King". There was something akin to admiration in Lord Varys' voice. "And he's unmarried".

At his words, Sansa felt her cool demeanor crack just a bit. Littlefinger’s words echoed in her head. Jon is young and unmarried. Daenerys is young and unmarried. At the time, Sansa brushed that idea off. Why would Jon want to marry a Targaryen? But of course, last night everything changed, when Jon revealed to her that he had been sleeping with the Dragon Queen. An alliance makes sense. Together, they'd be difficult to defeat, Littlefinger had said. It’s as if his words came back to mock her. Stupid girl, the cruel voice in her head said, you think you know everything but you know nothing at all.

“Jon and Queen Daenerys” she whispered. It hurts to say their names aloud, it hurts so much. Her worry was no longer alone, for it found a companion in pain, a pain so sharp it made it difficult for her to breath.

Varys observed her for a few seconds before replying. “I assume the idea already crossed your mind".

"Littlefinger mentioned it while Jon was in the South" she admitted. "But I'm afraid you'll have to talk to Jon about this, not me". Even the thought of Jon considering this proposition made her heart ache in ways she didn't quite understand. Stupid girl.

"This possible alliance involves you, too, Lady Sansa" he explained. "It involves you and your family".

The worry she felt started growing, threatening to consume her, little by little. "What do you mean?" she inquired. She had no time, no energy for games.

Varys folded his hands on his lap and focused his trained eyes on her face. "I believe I'm not mistaken when I say that few people know about Jon Snow's true identity". He took his time while uttering the words, letting them fall out of his mouth slowly and clearly, as if waiting to be interrupted or corrected. But Sansa didn't say a word. She just stayed still, while her mind went into a frenzy, trying to find a way out of this situation. It wasn't supposed to go like this. Her cool demeanor seemed to crack some more. She could feel the weight of the truth on her shoulders, the weight of what that truth could do. But she could also feel the fierce desire to protect her family, to protect Jon, in her heart. She drew strength from that.

Varys seemed to notice the fear in Sansa's eyes. "Do not fret, my dear Lady Sansa" he tried to assure her, giving her one of his seemingly innocent smiles. "I won't say a word about it. After all, it's not my secret to tell-"

"Nor is it yours to play with" she interjected, her voice as hard as iron. Southron games have no place in Winter. They can pretend and say all the pretty words they want... But when the white winds blow the lies away, only the truth will remain unscathed. "Do you know what happened to the last man that tried to use me and my family as pawns, Lord Varys?" she said as she moved towards the hearth. She stared at the flames for a few moments, giving Varys time to connect the dots.

"You killed Littlefinger" he finally said, surprised.

"We held a trial. My siblings and I, along with the Knights of the Vale exposed his crimes. He was found guilty and executed". She walked slowly towards him, like a wolf does its prey. "Our enemies toyed with us, Lord Varys. They hurt us, tried to maim us, tried to kill us". There wasn't cruelty in her voice, no. It was strength that covered her every word. "But they all forgot something important".

The Spider's eyes were still focused, but curiosity gleamed in them. "And what would that be, my Lady?"

"That the North remembers, my Lord" she declared, going back to her seat.

A smile, a little genuine smile formed on Varys's lips. "That, and that a pack of wolves is unstoppable, if I may say so" he added, offering her one of his little bows. He seemed lost in thought for a moment or two, as if he was trying to find the right words to convince her. "But you cannot defend yourselves alone. You need allies, Lady Sansa. I'm sure you know that".

"So you think marriage is the way to go, the only way to go" Sansa hoped the words unspoken were clear enough. The only way to keep the Dragon Queen content.

Varys leaned in, as if he were afraid the walls of Winterfell would listen to what he had to say to her. "You're a smart young woman, Sansa. I'm sure you noticed how... important the Iron Throne is to the Queen".

"You think once she knows the truth, she'll see Jon as a threat" she observed. Sansa and Varys both knew this to be true. Daenerys would see Jon as a threat. And how is it exactly that she deals with threats?

Sansa felt restless. Her fear and worry were overtaking her mind. But there was something else, something she could only identify as determination taking over her heart. She wouldn't let anything happen to Jon. She promised him so. I’ll protect you, just as you protected me, she had told him that night down at the crypts. And she meant every single word she said. I'm a Stark of Winterfell. I can be brave. I can be fierce.

"She could. He's Rhaegar's heir, which makes his claim higher than that of Queen Daenerys'. But if they were to marry..."

She didn't like this. She hated it. Jon is not a Targaryen. Sure, his father might've been Prince Rhaegar, but he was a Stark. His place is here, in Winterfell, with his family. With me. She immediately pushed that thought away.

"... sure you agree with me, I know you can understand-", she barely registered Varys' words. She was too lost in her thoughts and feelings to pay attention to what he was saying. Surely about how great an idea it is for Jon and Daenerys Targaryen to marry, the voice in her head said, bitterly.

"What you're proposing is for Jon to decide, not me. And definitely not you" she cut him off, as composed as she could possibly be in that moment.

"Lady Sansa" he sighs. "This is the easiest way to bring harmony to our country".

"Like I said, Lord Varys. This involves Jon, not me. I'm afraid you're seeking for validation in the wrong person".

It wasn't until she finished talking that she realized that she walked into a trap. He wanted to know how I felt about this. But why?, she wondered.

Because he knows that union isn't the only possible option, the voice in her head told her. And you know it, too. Then, she remembered the conversation she had with her siblings and Jon after finding the truth about his parents.

Lord Royce and the rest of the Vale swore fealty to us. Think about it, the North and the Vale, joined in arms and faith. And with the Freys gone, we can take back Riverrun, in the name of uncle Edmure. Should things with your aunt go wrong, we’d have the support of half of Westeros

We could have more than that...

She stopped herself lest her eyes gave her thoughts away.

"But you know him. Would he consider this proposal?" Varys insisted.

"He would do whatever is best for our people" she replied, matter-of-factly. The Master of Whisperers hummed in response. He was looking at her attentively, as if she were a riddle he was so close to solve. Sansa was resolved to do the same. Gods know what else he might know.

The silence in the room was turning tedious, so he broke it. "You've proven to be a capable politician, my Lady" he said with that little smile that exasperated her. It reminded her or King's Landing. It reminded her of people that were ready to use her and discard her the second she was no longer useful.

"You were able to come to that conclusion in such a short amount of time?"

"It might be winter, my dear" Varys laughed, "but my little birds still fly. I've heard quite a lot about the Lady of Winterfell. You see, they tell me she's very dedicated to her people, lords and smallfolk alike". He's trying something, she thought. "If you ask me, that's one of the things that makes a great ruler: genuine care. Another is to know the people around them, to know what they want" he explained. "But I'm sure the departed Lord Baelish taught you well". At the mention of his name, Sansa felt a shiver go down her spine. Even with him gone, the wounds he inflicted were somewhat open. He's gone, but his death didn't remedy the things he's done, the things he took from me and my family. Sansa lifted up her chin, trying her very best not to let the memory of a cruel, ambitious man tear her down.

"He taught you very well, if I may add" Varys continued. "You were able to outsmart him. Many people tried it, and many people died for that very reason".

Sansa was tired of this. She was tired of Varys, tired of his games. In silence, she stood up from her chair. "Lord Varys" she sighed, "I think I've made myself clear during our conversation" she said as she walked towards the door of her solar. "As for your proposal regarding Jon-"

"I tried to help your father, you know" Varys interjected, still sitting in one of the chairs laid in front of her oak desk. The mention of her Lord father made her freeze. Suddenly, she found herself fighting the tears away. Will my heart ever heal? she wondered.

"I visited him in the Black Cells" he started. "I begged him to declare himself a traitor, to forsake his honor..." Sansa heard the chair move. She didn’t see Varys approach her, she was still facing the door, unable to tear her eyes from it. As if the act of looking at any other thing than that door would break her into a million pieces. "I asked him to think of you".

The thought of her father, all alone in those cells, imprisoned like a common thief, just because he dared to tell the truth. The memory of him standing in front of the people of King's Landing, admitting his treason, only to... Sansa felt like the air was being sucked from her lungs. She started to cry silent tears. She let herself be vulnerable in front of a man that was known for taking advantage of the vulnerability of others. But she didn't care. Her heart ached for her father. Her heart ached for her innocence. Her heart's been aching since that day. And it never stopped. She turned around slowly to face the Spider. If he's going to use this against me, she thought, at least let him see what he's using. Let him feel despicable for doing such a cruel thing.

"You may ask why I'm insistent with these plans, so I'll tell you the same thing I told Lord Eddard: I don't serve Kings and Queens; they're people, just like any of the kitchen maids that work on an Inn in the Kingsroad or a farmer that never left his town" he explained, while giving her an earnest look. "The only difference, given my experience, is that Kings and Queens are more concerned with the power they can get". He then turned to the hearth, absorbed by his own words. "If they dedicated half the time and energy to matters of state, to the people, the realm would be flourishing, instead of drowing in yet another war". He talked like a man that was tired of his task but wouldn't give up on it, not just yet. "So, you may ask yourself who do I truly serve, the answer is simple". At this, he turned to face Sansa. "I serve the realm, my Lady, because no one else seems to do so".

His words rang true with her. This might be the first time he's being completely sincere in our entire conversation, she thought. The exasperation left her little by little, and started to be replaced by curiosity and an eagerness to know. Why would a man so concerned with the well-being of the realm stand beside a Targaryen?, she wondered. One that burned her enemies alive. But she kept those questions to herself.

He walked closer to her, probably wanting to reach for her hand, but he was aware of the way she stiffened, so he stopped on his tracks. "You care about your people, I know it. I've seen it. So please, Lady Sansa. At least take my proposals into consideration".

She just stood there, trying to read him. There was a distinct gleam in his eyes. Desperation, the voice in her head told her. He looks like a man that's running out of options.

Varys took her silence as some sort of quiet refusal. "You think that just because you slain one giant, there's nothing else in the world that can terrify you, but there is" he stated. "The realm is not yet safe".

He is desperate, she thought, because he's afraid.

"I assure you, Lord Varys, me and my family, as any other northerner, will do anything and everything in our power to keep our people safe" she was quick to answer. "We take care of each other. Especially through hardships". Sansa thought he might give her some witty remark, or retort her right away, but his answer didn’t come. Instead, he stayed silent, with wide eyes, trying to read the woman in front of him.

"Unless there is something you're not telling me" she prodded. "Maybe about the Dragon Queen's previous allies?" Sansa made sure her tone left nothing out. I know about the Reach. I know about the Iron Fleet and Dorne. I know she's done nothing for them.

Realization dawned on Varys' face. Sansa took the silent confirmation gladly. She now knew for certain who exactly she was dealing with.

"I beg of you, my Lady" he started, not worrying about masking the uneasiness in his voice. "Daenerys is your ally. There is no need of making her your enemy".

"Does she terrify you, my Lord?" she found herself asking. The voice of Varys the Spider didn't answer her, his silence did. "You know, Cersei once gave me a piece of advise. She told me that I should make sure the people fear me more than they do the enemy. She told me that in doing so, nobody would dare to cross me" she explained. "Why do I feel your Queen is not so different from Cersei in that matter?"

Silence met her question once more. One by one, all of Sansa's fears were being confirmed by Varys' silences. Sansa had no energy to keep on going. She was heading towards her desk when she heard Varys sigh. "I hope you're careful, Lady Sansa. I really do".

"And I hope you keep your word, Lord Varys" she said in a voice like iron. "This isn't one of the games of the Capital".

"In that we seem to agree, my dear" he offered, before bowing and leaving the solar.

Once she was alone, Sansa felt her emotions wash over her: fear, anger, helplessness, determination. Each one more aggressive than the former. But, as if all of that weren't enough, her mind started playing with her heart. The ever-present ache she felt whenever she thought of those she lost was like a sharp dagger in her chest. The ever-present fear she's been feeling ever since she found out about Jon's parentage. The miserable feeling she couldn't get rid of ever since Jon told her about him and Daenerys Targaryen.

She felt faint. She felt trapped.

She wanted peace. She wanted her family.

You want Jon, that voice in her head told her.

Brushing aside that little voice (one that sounded like her old self, the one that dreamed of princes and gallant knights), she made her way towards the Great Keep. It was time to listen to the people: their needs and their worries, and the Lady of Winterfell didn't have time to dwell in hers. She had to do her duty.

(You can read the rest of the chapter on AO3)

#jonsa #jon x sansa #sansa x jon #Jon Snow #Sansa Stark #got #jonsa fanfiction #actuallyjonsa #jonsa fandom #my fanfiction #my writing #my stuff

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yourtransgendersocialworker · 4 years

Text

12.31.2019, On an Inside Scoop of a Mental Health Crisis

I’ve been thinking, lately, about how a person who is in the middle of a mental health crisis may have a very different perspective than those watching. I wonder what it may look like when those who experience a crisis together debrief the sequence of events. I tried to piece together my memories of my last mental health deterioration and verbalize how I felt and what I remember. I experienced the entire thing.

Before the night, I had been bad off for a couple weeks. I had a few triggering events which led me down a shame spiral. Over the course of about two weeks, I started to lose touch with reality. I felt very confused and embarrassed. I was struggling to pay attention and I couldn’t remember anything. Bad thoughts ran rampant. The voice inside my head was loud, non-stop and confident with suicidal ideation.

It started when I posted a Facebook status. It was cryptic and vague, something like, “I don’t belong here anymore.” I don’t remember much about that night anymore, but I can imagine what it might have looked like. I posted that status and then I paced around the house in a panicky daze. Pacing around the house in a dissociate state was becoming a nightly routine*. My mind was on fire, so loud and certain with bad thoughts. I was in so much pain.

People reached out on Facebook, asking if I was okay, but I didn’t respond. It was comforting to see the love and support but it was too overwhelming to engage with it all. Ryan called me and I didn’t answer his call. Theo’s mom texted me after I was asleep asking if I was awake. I didn’t see that until the morning so I did not answer. When I woke up, my friend texted me asking if I was okay, saying they didn’t want to have to come over if I didn’t answer. I texted back saying I was okay and they got mad that I posted that status online.

Later I wrote a blog journal about how bad I was feeling and I reflected on my poor decision to post that Facebook status. I wrote about how it felt to be told to not post shit like that, about how it hurt and about how I shouldn’t worry people. I quoted what the friend had told me but I didn’t say her name. I wrote that I agreed and I talked about the right and wrong ways to ask for help and how scary it is to ask for help.

Meanwhile, I am still in the middle of a mental health crisis.

I go to the therapist’s office on a Friday. I tell him how bad I am feeling and I tell him how I would want to die. He tells me I can’t leave his office until I make safety plans with him. I texted my friend asking if I could stay the night at their house, or if they or their boyfriend would come stay the night with me because I was in my therapists office and he wouldn’t let me leave. My friend stopped texting back when I asked that. I made plans with Ryan to meet halfway between us, in Lexington, Kentucky. We both drove around 5 hours and stayed in a hotel for the weekend. We played Bible golf. I told him my thoughts about mental illness as a terminal illness and he spent the weekend trying to convince me to stay alive. I was so sure of myself and referred to myself in the past tense. Ryan said he felt like he was already grieving my death. I was happy we could do that together.

I saw that my friend deleted me from Facebook. My other friend texted me the next day saying they were glad I was able to make a different plan. My family here was suddenly gone. I just continued to spiral. I left Lexington still determined to kill myself. I made it about a week. I went to work but I couldn’t work and people were taking me on walks and I talked openly to my coworkers about my suicidal thoughts. Words would pour out of my mouth before I processed them, startling the both of us. The coworkers started talking to each other. Gwen and I hid in my office for a couple hours while she gently warmed me to the idea of seeking help. I was determined to kill myself. I couldn’t think straight but I knew things were bad. I eventually agreed to go. We went to my house and prepared a bag and prepared me for what was next. Gwen took me to the crisis center and we joked about the decorations on the wall and she came back for the assessment and reminded me to tell them my theory on terminal mental illness.

I got sent to the same hospital I went to the first time. Staff remembered me and I remembered them. I spent 32 days in the hospital watching people come and go, 32 very lonely days without many visitors. I recognized the hospital kinships as structured and contained. I tried my hardest to understand what exactly had happened up until this point. I couldn’t wrap my head around losing my friend family and I began to question everything. Was I toxic, causing more pain than pleasure in my relationships? Was I worthless, worth leaving when I needed help the most? The only relief from self-interrogation was the anxious peace of my impending death. I realized I was living my last days and that was comforting. I did 16 rounds of shock treatment and didn’t feel any different.

I came back home and tried to piece my life together. Nothing had changed. I couldn't trust myself or anyone else. I still had no idea what was real and what wasn't real. I still didn’t understand what warranted the abrupt abandonment of my support network. I read a lot of books and prepared myself for death. I stopped telling people my plans. I did research. I cried hysterically to the Nurse Practitioner and she hugged me and referred me to an outpatient program.

I started intensive outpatient treatment and I told them about my terminal mental illness and they cried and increased my time to partial hospitalization. I made a couple friends and got along well with the staff. I made connections and I made granola and I made a mask. It felt good but I knew it wasn’t the real world. I talked a lot about suicide and the therapist tried to respect my thoughts while also trying to convince me to stay alive. I thanked the therapist for trying so hard and I told them how I was going to kill myself. People reminded me that a couple weeks ago I said I was doing okay but I couldn’t remember that.

I started back at work. I didn’t arrange any more therapy. I have done enough and I know another person isn’t going to change my life. I am here now. I am tired. I sleep most of the day. I don’t move very much at all. I worry that my friends feel obligated to reach out to me. I want to be a kind friend but I don’t want to spread my dark energy. I am more calm than usual. I'm moving a lot less so there is less about my reality to question. I still feel the same. I'm not talking about it as much because there is no point.

————

Since writing that last paragraph, I was in a bad car accident. The morning after, I called the numbers I had memorized, my mom, Ryan and Theo, to ask for help getting a ride home from the Emergency Room. I was covered in blood and positioned casually in the waiting room for someone to come claim me. My supervisor picked me up and I vomited in her car and dribbled blood onto the passenger door. Friends showed me they cared for me. Kiley drove from Illinois and stayed with me over Christmas. Her presence in the midst of my hardest time reaffirmed my ability to connect and share loving-kindness. The news of a suicide brought reflection and pain. The lens shifted.

2019 was incredibly hard. It’s right up there with 2009 as the hardest times so far. I’ve learned a lot about family- the word, the concept, the reality. I’ve learned about true friendship and true love. I’ve learned I’m not always to blame. I’ve learned that despite all of the dark, I am still filled with love. I’ve learned that growth isn’t a synonym for progress. You can grow into an ugly thing. I know one thing to be true- I have not turned ugly.

This decade tried its hardest to destroy me and towards the end, I eagerly chipped in. I’m not one to hold weight to the date changing, but it feels like the right time for me to try again.

_____

*Try to explain the spiral of depression and dissociation.

It usually starts with feeling ashamed or embarrassed about something.

You come home from work and you start to panic. You think to yourself, “Be gentle with yourself. If you’re tired, just sit on the couch.” You sit on the couch and feel like a waste for not being productive. Your mind is on fire and you can’t think about anything. You are overwhelmed with static noise. Your legs shake and you scroll through your phone so much that it tells you there is nothing left to look at. You start to think about dying. You get up but you don’t know what to do so you smoke a cigarette and look at your unfinished projects. You wash your hands and stumble back to the couch, the cigarette being just enough of a distraction to trick you into thinking you actually did something. You zone out. You watch the house dirty around you, let things pile up. You start to move through space differently. The air feels thick and your body moves in slow-motion. You start to feel like you are looking at a “Magic Eye.” Your eyes are out of focus all the time and they blur and shift throughout the day. You cry often and uncontrollably. It does not feel like a release, but like you are made of clay and you are cracking. You realize you’re not paying attention to anything anymore. You think about killing yourself every free second you have. You think about the act of killing yourself, you think about your funeral, you think about your dog, you think about your family and your friends. You think about everything you’ve done in the world. You think about everyone you love. You think about the idea of a good future. You know what you’ve got to do. You think things through and come to the same conclusion after each hypothesis you try out. You can’t hear your friends speaking to you anymore because you are thinking through everything. People are talking to you but you are wild inside and trying to hide it as best as you can but you can't hide your suicidal ideations when you are telling everyone goodbye. You surprise yourself with the things you let pour out of your lips. You aren’t answering messages anymore. That's too much. You feel a sense of peace and determination. You know you need to be brave and you are worried about that. And that is where it whisks off.

#ptsd #depression #dissociation #transgender #trans #ftm #mental health #social work

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michael-langdon-appreciation · 5 years

Note

I love the pain. Bring it on. Eventually there’ll be fluff so I’m not worried -MC

You all asked for the angst. I’m sorry…

Also line breaks signal a change in POV!

Here’s Part 3 of the Runaway Saga 🙈

The fire crackles in the hearth, little snaps punctuating the still air.

You’ve been sat there for the best part of an hour, waiting for him to say something. Anything. The blanket pools around your shoulders as Michael trudges by and dumps himself in the armchair. You can’t help but feel responsible, a sting of guilt running through your body. You were pretty much clueless, but that doesn’t stop Michael from throwing you the occasional sour glare. His hands are clasped together as if he’s praying to his father for strength. Michael Langdon gives off the air of a man on the brink, lost and dazed from recent events.

You pick yourself up from the sofa and kneel before him, close enough to rest your hand over his, ‘I didn’t know.’ You’ve repeated it so often over the past few days, but Michael still flinches every time you bring it up. ‘I had no idea Jim wanted to take me away from you.’

His golden hair falls limply down over his shoulders, ‘I know. You don’t have to keep saying it.’

Your phone lights up, resting on the sofa. Michael’s palm opens and your phone flies into his palm before you can stop him.

He checks the Caller ID - Jim.

The phone goes flying, smashing against the wall, ‘Michael!’

He scowls darkly at the cracked screen, ‘I despise liars, Y/N.’ You retrieve your phone, still vibrating but you can’t unlock it and you don’t try. Michael heads to the balcony, his hand clench the railings tight. ‘At least Jim was right about one thing,’ He mutters. ‘This place is pretty much hell.’

You join Michael outside, the view mostly tiled ceilings and the blue sky. You both can hear the waves smashing against the shore even though you can’t see them. The cold seeps into your bare feet, but you ignore it and wrap your arms around Michael’s back. ‘I know you want time,’ You begin carefully, pressing your lips to Michael’s neck. ‘But ignoring them will only make things worse. They aren’t going to stop trying to reach us and soon one will show up here.’

You await his reply, knowing that you have to be patient with Michael. It takes so much for him to reveal himself, the insecure boy that hides underneath his impressive figure. You occasionally kiss that little spot, watching the shudders roll up Michael’s spine. It’s a sensitive area, one that usually has his mouth running, ‘I entertained the idea.’ Michael admits, ‘After Jim took you, I thought about being selfish. What I’d do if it was just us, when the world is dead and I decide how things are. But-’

‘But we are a team.’ You finish, ‘A unit that loves each other.’ He doesn’t answer and a sliver of fear runs through you, ‘Michael?’

‘I thought so.’

‘They love you.’ You reaffirm, ‘Jim and Duncan, they’re just being stupid-’

‘Maybe.’

‘Do you know something I don’t?’ You ask, ‘Have you heard something?’

Michael turns round. His arms slide up your arms, Michael just taking you in. You meet his blue gaze and then your eyes flicker down to the tremble of his hips. Michael brings your head to his chest, his large hand cupping the back of your head, ‘They love you.’ He throws my words back at me, ‘They love you more than me.’

‘That’s not true.’ You say at once, your voice a little muffled. ‘Duncan-’

‘Duncan was mine.’ Michael cuts over you, ‘Before you came along, before Jim there was the two of us. I brought him out of a very dark place and he was mouldable and did whatever I asked. We fell for each other with ease, things were good.’ Michael swallows, ‘I was the one who wanted more.’ He’s fighting back tears now, ‘I pushed Duncan to try with you and now I’ve lost him.’

His words have a salt sting to them and you find yourself backing out of his arms, ‘Are you saying, I stole Duncan from you?’

‘That apartment isn’t for me.’ Michael’s conviction is strong, ‘If it was, he’d have done it years ago.’

‘You’re blaming me?’ The hurt is evident in your voice, ‘I didn’t ask Duncan to do anything.’

‘Just like you didn’t ask Jim to steal you away either.’ Michael’s voice rises, ‘But where did it leave me, Y/N? Do you ever think about anyone but yourself?’

You swallow back your fury, ‘Do you think I am here for the good of my health?’ You question, ‘Do you think I’d be sat here like a hermit for the past however many days if I wasn’t for you? No I am here Michael, because you couldn’t face the other two. Because instead of confronting them and hearing what they have to say you’d rather smash my phone and hide away like a child.’

‘I AM NOT A CHILD.’ Michael thunders, ‘HOW DARE YOU?’

‘I will not sit by and let you blame me for what has happened.’ You’re not going to be intimidated by the Antichrist, ‘Grow the fuck up.’

You shove past him, but Michael catches your arm, ‘Wait, Y/N. I’m sorry.’

Your eyes fall onto Michael’s hand, bare and almost foreign without the accompaniment of his usual rings. When you catch his eyes the tears have finally fallen, ‘I don’t know what to do.’ He confesses, ‘I thought they loved me.’

‘You’re jumping to conclusions.’ You try and reason with him again, ‘You don’t know that they’re feelings have changed till you speak with them.’

‘Do you love me?’

Michael has always been there for you, more than any of the others. He’s the one to make your problems go away, the one stay up with late at night, sharing secrets with your heads next to each other. He’s your safety and you’re his lifeline, the calm one who knows just what to say to calm him.

You can’t let him go.

‘Yes.’

He sweeps you back in, cradling your head close. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He kisses you deeply, ‘I can’t lose you too. I don’t want to.’

You put enough space between your lips to speak, ‘But you have to speak to them.’ You order, ‘If you can’t then I don’t think this can keep going on.’

Yes, Duncan’s staying with Jim, only because he can keep tabs on the nasty little manipulator.

Jim tosses his phone across the breakfast bar, ‘She still isn’t answering. Neither’s Michael.’

‘I don’t blame her.’ Duncan says, ‘Not after what you pulled at the beach.’

Jim scowls right back, ‘You’re just mad that I got there before you. Trying to steal Y/N away from us, sequestering her away in New York? Did you think none of us would find out?’

‘I didn’t buy that fucking place for Y/N.’ Duncan snarls, abandoning his croissant. He bites his lip, but Duncan can’t take back the words that just spilled from his lips.

‘You think I’m buying that BS?’

‘It’s the truth.’ He’s fucked it already, he may as well as come clean.

Jim’s mouth opens to retort, but it snaps shut as he thinks things over, ‘You bought an apartment for who then?’

Duncan can’t look at him, not at the boy before him, the one who looks so murderous. How he misses the fondness that Jim used to hold in his eyes for him, that spark of green amongst the blue.

‘For Michael?’ Jim guesses.

‘No.’

‘I dunno then, for your own personal escape from us?’

‘For you, Jim.’

It takes Jim a minute to comprehend, ‘What?’

‘You can be so fucking dumb at times.’ But Duncan doesn’t mean it, he never means it when he shouts at Jim. But Jim has made things so difficult lately. It broke his fucking heart to find him gone with Y/N, that he couldn’t get there first and swipe his Beach Boy away. ‘You had to make everything so difficult.’ The word vomit is spilling forth again, ‘You thought it was for Y/N and you flipped. I get that, but it was for you. I wanted to take you away, to meet my parents.’ Duncan takes in a deep breath, levelling Jim with his gaze. ‘I wanted you to be my boyfriend Jim, exclusively.’

He drops his eyes and picks up his plate. Duncan dumps his half-eaten croissant in the trash and starts washing the plate for something to do. Jim is horribly, eerily quiet still by the breakfast bar. He checks his phone but there’s still nothing, Jim’s a creature of habit just like Duncan whose own hand fishes out his phone and checks the time, scrolls through his Twitter. Anything is better than the silence between them.

‘Dunc,’ Jim begins. ‘I had no idea.’

‘I know,’ Duncan keeps his eyes glued to his phone.

Jim slides off his seat and walks over to him. He confiscates Duncan’s phone and the Mogul lets him, finally peeking at Jim’s face to get a read of what he’s thinking. Jim looks devastated, his forehead creased as he takes Duncan’s hand in his and holds it to his chest. Duncan knows it’s not good news.

He always did.

‘You know that for me it’s Y/N.’ Jim says, so quietly Duncan almost misses it. ‘It’s always been Y/N.’

‘I know.’ He repeats, the words robotic and not his own anymore.

Jim kisses the top of Duncan’s hand, ‘I’m so sorry, Duncan. The foursome thing, it’s great and I would still go for it now and then because, well damn. It’s fucking amazing.’ He’s trying to reach him, to make Duncan laugh but his heart is being yanked in two and all Duncan can do is turn away, looking out at the beach of Palos Verdes from the open window. Jim’s hand is on his shoulder, ‘But I meant what I said about it not being enough. I can’t keep going on the way we are.’

‘Do you think she would be with you?’

It’s a loaded question, an unfair one.

Jim swallows, Duncan hears the sound. ‘I hope that after the couple of days we’ve had, yes.’

‘Even though you lied to her?’

‘Well I haven’t been the only one have I?’

Duncan shoves himself away, he can’t hear the derision that is definitely there in Jim’s voice. ‘Fuck you,’ He spits, heading to the bedroom.

Jim gives chase, ‘Duncan I didn’t mean. I just meant that we need to talk things through, it’s all become so messy.’

‘No we could have been okay.’ Duncan says, still marching. ‘If you had just waited I could have asked you and that would have been it. We could have carried on or faced it, but Michael hates us both and Y/N’s with him doing God knows what.’ He grabs the door, ready to shut it but Jim sticks his foot in the way.

‘What was I meant to think?’ He asks, ‘Duncan, I don’t want things to end this way.’

‘Well it has to.’

‘It doesn’t.’ Jim reaches to stroke his face, to touch his stubble but Duncan pushes him back out of the way of the door.

‘Look you just didn’t think, Jim.’ Duncan says, ‘I know that but I also need to have time to cope with this.’

Jim frowns, ‘What are you saying?’

‘I’m saying I’m not going back with you lot.’ Duncan’s made up his mind, the ice encasing over his heart. ‘I still hold a special place for Y/N and Michael but I can’t carry on pretending I’m okay sharing you.’

Jim tries to reach him but Duncan shoves him even harder. Jim’s calm snaps, ‘You’re fucking leaving us?’

‘Like you weren’t gonna do it first.’

‘Duncan this isn’t right. I didn’t know about this!’

‘Well you should have thought about someone’s happiness other than your own.’ His vision is blurred with tears. Duncan doesn’t get upset, but Jim Mason has damn well done it. Jim tries to get through the door once more, but Duncan’s fist connects before he can stop himself. Jim smacks against the wall, the bruise forming immediately on his skin. Duncan sucks in a breath, ‘I hope Y/N’s smarter than you think she is.’ His voice is hoarse, damaged from the hurt, the regret, from Jim. ‘I hope to God she never goes near you again. Because you took all of our happiness away when you took her here.’

He closes the door on Jim and locks it. Duncan waits, listening for Jim to pick himself off the floor and head back downstairs. There’s silence and then a sound like a wounded animal, Jim shrieks, a fist hitting the door. ‘DUNCAN!’ He screams, ‘You can’t say that to me!’

Duncan holds his breath, he doesn’t dare answer. His own tears are blinding him as he rests his forehead against the door, ‘Go away, Jim.’ He whispers, ‘Leave me in peace, give me that.’

How Jim heard him, he’ll never know. But Jim falls silent at once and then there’s the sound of footsteps and then silence once more.

Duncan hides in the bedroom for three hours before he can bring himself to stop being a coward. He steps into the living room where every sign of another person has been removed. Jim’s gone and all that’s left is a scrawled note, crossed out in three places from where Jim tried to convey his feelings. Duncan can make out the large, ‘SCREW YOU.’ blackened out on the top right corner.

It’s simple but effective - Going to get Y/N. Don’t contact me again.

When Jim arrives he half expects Michael to fling him against a wall. He may have even done so, if Y/N wasn’t there.

‘Come in.’ She says, opening the door wide enough for Jim to enter with his suitcase.

‘Thank you for letting me stay.’ He avoids Michael’s gaze out of guilt. Duncan’s admission burns inside him and Jim can’t bring himself to even think in the Antichrist’s presence. Michael stands there in sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair tied back in a low bun. Babyhairs escape here and there, making Michael look the most unkempt Jim has ever seen him. He pushes them behind his ears out of habit, his blue eyes darting between Y/N and Jim.

‘Where’s Duncan?’ He asks, ‘I thought he’d be with you.’

‘Not after recent developments.’

It’s then Y/N notices the dark bruise on his cheek, she gasps dramatically and cups Jim’s chin in her hand at once, ‘Did he do this?’

Jim nods, the guilt rising like bile in his throat. The memory of Duncan’s fist flashes in his mind and all it takes is a wince from Michael to know he’s seen it. ‘Take a seat.’ He offers, leading the way to the sofa and sitting down himself. Jim knows the drill and sits next to Michael who rests his palm against Jim’s bruised cheek. Michael’s eyes slip closed, his voice chanting low and then it’s all over. Jim runs his finger down his cheek to find it smooth and healed once more, ‘Thank you.’

Michael shrugs, it’s nothing to him after all. As easy as levitating a book.

Y/N remains standing, ‘I can’t believe he’d hit you.’ She says, ‘What is he thinking?’

Jim can’t hold it in any longer, ‘He told me some things.’

‘What kind of things?’ Michael isn’t making things easy. Not that Jim expected him to, the Antichrist’s guard is way up high, like brick-wall high. Y/N deposits herself on the armchair beside Michael and Jim can’t help but notice how Michael’s hand caresses her thigh. It’s an obvious claim he’s staking on her, right in front of Jim.

He can’t be the one to tell him. He can’t.

‘Spit it out, Jim.’ Michael snaps, ‘I assume you’re here to carry on your holiday.’

‘Don’t be callous,’ Y/N warns, shooting Michael a warning look. ‘What happened, Jim?’ He tries to find the words, but they just aren’t there. How can he tell them that Duncan wants only him?

He can’t.

‘Oh fuck me.’

Jim’s eyes close, fucking Michael.

Y/N looks between Michael and Jim, ‘What?’

Michael seems frozen, his eyes penetrating into Jim. He can’t look away, it’s as if Michael is burrowing into his every thought and then it’s like someone has taken a melon-baller and brought up everything Jim as repressing to the surface. Duncan’s declaration explodes at the forefront of his mind, right for Michael’s viewing. The Antichrist’s breath hitches and then he’s up, pacing back and forth. ‘I can’t believe it.’

‘I didn’t know how to say.’ Jim explains quickly, looking to Y/N for support.

She takes Michael’s place on the sofa, her hand sliding across to take Jim’s. ‘What’s going on, Jim?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s going on.’ Michael’s voice is raw, the pain doubled from the strain Y/N’s heard over the past couple of days. Michael sucks in a shaky breath, but he can’t hold it. His shoulders hitch and right as the thought to do something hits, Y/N’s already beaten him to it.

’Breathe, Michael.’ She encourages, squeezing his hands and maintaining eye contact.

The jealousy rears in Jim, despite his best efforts to quell it. He slides off the sofa to join the other two, not wanting to be left out or forgotten. ‘It could just be temporary.’ He offers, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Duncan bought the apartment for Jim.’ Michael spits the words out as if they are poison.

Jim can’t watch Y/N. He can’t bear to see her in pain and he pulls her into his arms at once, ‘I didn’t know.’ He says, ‘I had no idea he felt that way or I’d have never just took you.’

‘What?’ He can hear Y/N’s voice go up an octave. She escapes Jim’s grasp and wraps her arms around herself, Y/N’s face contorts horribly as she too tries to keep her emotions in check. Michael’s doing a slight better job, still furious but when Y/N breaks down, covering her face he’s over in a heartbeat. Michael kneels down before her, ‘Y/N. We’ll sort this.’

‘He loves you?’ She questions, peering through her fingers to look at Jim.

Tears pricks his eyes too, watching the people he loves be torn apart, ‘Yeah.’

‘Oh my god, what?’ The tears fall down Y/N’s cheeks, fast and heavy. ‘He planned to leave us?’

‘I don’t know,’ Jim admits.

‘It fucking looks like it.’ Michael says, ‘He went behind our backs. Was he even going to tell us?’

‘He must have.’ Jim says, ‘Duncan wouldn’t just fuck off.’

Jim’s body flies sideways and then he’s pressed against the wall, held there by magic. Michael advances on him, his hand closing around Jim’s throat. ‘This is all your fault.’ He spits, putting a light pressure on Jim’s windpipe.

‘What?’ Jim squeaks, scrabbling against Michael’s grasp. ‘I didn’t do anything Michael, I didn’t know!’

‘You found out about the apartment and you took Y/N away from me.’ He spits, ‘And now you’re taking Duncan too.’

’No!’ Jim’s eyes bluge, reaching out to Y/N. But she isn’t looking at the boys, her gaze is locked on her knees. Frozen.

‘You can’t have her.’ Michael shouts, ‘I loved you. I loved ALL of you.’

‘I know.’

‘I WON’T BE LEFT BEHIND!’ Michael screams, dropping Jim.

The Beach Boy crumples on the floor, but Y/N still doesn’t come to help him. ‘Y/N?’

‘Get out.’

He blinks, Jim’s vision a blurry mess from Michael’s assault. Did he hear her right?

Y/N lifts her head up, ‘GET OUT JIM!’

Jim picks himself off the floor, scurrying over to her. ‘Baby, please. I never meant-’

‘I know but I can’t see you right now.’ She cries, trying to wipe at her eyes.

He produces a tissue from his pocket, wiping away at her face, ‘No, Y/N. Please don’t shut me out. All I want is you.’

‘You’re a fucking prick.’ Michael hisses, ‘You never loved me.’

‘Michael this isn’t just about you.’ Jim snaps, but he wishes he hadn’t. Why can’t he keep his mouth shut anymore, ‘This affect all of us. Our entire fucking lives.’

‘Too right it does,’ Michael fires back. ‘I’ve given up my cause for you all.’

Y/N’s just starting to get her breathing back under control, ‘We can’t lose Duncan.’

‘I think we have.’ Michael and Y/N’s eyes slide right to Jim, ‘I told him not to contact me.’

‘Oh, Jim.’ Y/N breathes, ‘But he loves you.

‘And I love you.’ Jim knows it in the depths of his heart, ‘I’m sorry, Michael. It’s not that I don’t have feelings for you, or Duncan and I may have said something things to both of you but-’

‘Don’t bother.’ Michael says, ‘I can take the hint. I’ll leave you two alone.’

Y/N reaches out for him, ‘No, Michael.’

But the Antichrist is gone, disappearing down the hallway.

Y/N scrubs at her eyes, ‘So Duncan’s gone?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jim admits, ‘It’s all one big mess. I proved that I loved you when I took you with me and I told him not to contact me. Can you forgive me for lying to you?’

It takes her a while but Y/N slowly nods, ‘Never again, Jim.’ She says, ‘You can’t lie to me about anything.’

Jim takes her hand, ’I won’t.’ He kisses her forehead, earning himself a watery smile that disappears.

‘But I won’t leave Michael.’

He fights the rage surging once more, ‘Why?’

‘Because he needs me.’ She says, ‘And I love him, Jim.’

‘But you love me too.’

‘I love all of you.’ Y/N confesses, inspecting the marks Michael’s fingers left around Jim’s neck. ‘But this just isn’t working out.’

Fear grips him, ‘What do you mean?’

Y/N’s reached some kind of decision. Jim can see it and his stomach turns to lead, ‘I won’t abandon Michael for anything.’ She resolves.

That’s it. The blow that crushes him, that snaps Jim in two.

‘You’re leaving me?’ Jim’s sobbing before he can stop himself, ‘You’re choosing Michael Langdon? The fucking Antichrist?’

‘Stop it.’ Y/N hisses, ‘As if you care who he is.’

Jim hasn’t stopped holding her hand, ‘We have the chance to get out of this and live a life together.’ He urges, ‘You and me. I meant what I said, Y/N. About a family and everything.’

‘And where does that leave Michael?’

‘Why does he matter?’

‘Because you’re meant to love him too, Jim.’ Y/N voice rises, ‘Or was it all an act? Did you fake it just to get me because I can’t deal with you telling me that.’

Jim’s speechless. At first, maybe. But yes, feelings were caught and then the resentment started.

Y/N takes his silence as confirmation, ‘I need you to leave.’ She orders, ‘I need time to think.’ Jim shakes his head, but Y/N tugs her hand out of his grip, ‘If you love me, you’ll give me this.’

Y/N found him later in the bedroom. Michael’s curled up in the fetal position, his hair half coming out of his bun. He doesn’t care about it anymore. He feels numb, as if he can’t breathe properly. It’s the worst feeling he can ever imagine, worse than when his Grandma threw him out, worse than Ben Harmon’s rejection, perhaps even worse than when his Mrs Mead was murdered. ‘Oh my darling,’ He knows Y/N is there and chokes back the most pathetic sob when she wraps him up, spooning herself against him. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Why are you so good?’ Michael mumbles, ‘You should go, be with Jim.’

‘I don’t want to.’ She kisses him behind the ear, right on his devil’s mark. It tingles, just as it does every time Y/N kisses him there. ‘I’m staying right here.’

‘You’d risk a chance for happiness for me?’ Michael asks.

She doesn’t answer at first, ‘I love you all.’ She states, ’But clearly this foursome hasn’t worked out. Feelings have caught, all round.’

‘Not me.’ Michael’s adamant in that, ‘I still fucking love Jim despite everything. I love Duncan, how could I not?’ He rolls over onto his back so he can look at Y/N, ‘I love you so much.’

Y/N catches Michael’s hand, kissing his palm. ‘We need to take a break.’ She says, ‘All of us.’

‘No, Y/N please.’

‘I’m not leaving you.’ Her voice is firm, ‘I would never. Not after this, but a relationship just isn’t healthy right now darling.’

Michael swallows down his pain because she’s right. It doesn’t stop the tears from coming again, ‘So what does it make us?’

Y/N rests her head on his chest, ‘I don’t know.’ She says, ‘Something more than friends but not quite lovers.’

‘That doesn’t sound good.’

She laughs, ‘I told Jim to give me space.’

‘Good.’

‘I think I’m going to tell him the same thing.’ Y/N decides, ‘I don’t think we should see anyone for a while.’

He thinks it over long and hard, Michael’s fingers weaving their way into Y/N’s hair. She’s all he has left, so loyal. The only one to truly love him.

‘I think’s wise.’ He lets a tear drop down his face and watches it land in Y/N’s hair, ‘Jesus Christ my whole world is falling apart.’

Y/N nudges her head up, meeting Michael in a kiss. ‘Well let’s hope there’s still a chance to put it back together. For all of us.’

TAGGING: @langdonsrapture @langdonsoceaneyes @duncvn @ritualmichael @cryptid-coalition @sodanova @langdvn@lovelykhaleesiii @sammythankyou @kylosbabe @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @langdonsdemon @americanhorrorstudies @petersfern-fics @sojournmichael @starwlkers @ccodyfern @yourkingcodyfern @jimmlangdon @hanhanxx @cocosfern@thelangdoncooperative @queencocoakimmie @wroteclassicaly @moontheweirdpan @megacombusken @divinelangdon@starspangledfuck @cherryberryann @lambofcairo @ccodyfern@flowersiren @oldschoolhoe @chocolateandhorror @infernal-langdon @jim-mason22 @duncandimension @luxuryglitterhoe @langdonsinferno @astir-bread @amytakesmanhattan @i-will-die-for-jim-mason @mega-combusken @kahhlo @gremlinkween @satcnas @russianspacegeckosexparty @rosy-pugs @starwlkers @alexcornerblog @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul and anyone I missed out I’m sorry the list is BIG! ❤️

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klngofdarkness · 4 years

Text

Discord Thread Archive - #1

This is a thread written on “Klonoa Party”, a server on Discord with Maxipawz, available on Twitter and DeviantART.

Characters: Lephise, Ghadius,

Setting/s: Kingdom of Cress

Notes: This thread takes place shortly before the ending events of Klonoa: Door To Phantomile

@Maxipawz

She felt like she could breathe again. The world had fallen cold ever since her impact, slowly crumbling away to darkness. Only then when the long-eared hero of Breezegale risked it all and freed her from her prison had she come to realize how lucky they were. Being contained in nothing but nightmares had given her an outlook she hadn't expected. She wasn't afraid. Hand on her heart, she glanced over the world of Phantomile from her kingdom, scarred by the presence of overwhelming nightmares. It was up to her to restore the world. Her chest felt heavy, and her words soft. Even after all of this, something just didn't feel right. There was a reason for all of this, a reason she had neglected to understand. Her hands gripped the railings of the deck she looked out from.

@DriftStar13

Their world was hurt. Darkness had settled over the kingdoms of Phantomile, but thanks to that boy and his wind ring it could be restored thanks to her song. While Lephise reminisced about how they had almost come to an end, marvelling at the fact that somehow, despite the odds, they were okay, she was forced to realize that she wasn't yet alone as a voice behind her brought her back to reality. "The Dream Travelers..." A haunting, dark voice spoke, graceful even in the face of defeat. Lephise turned to find all that was left of the ancient spirit; the cloth of his dimensional cape and that unnerving, avian-shaped mask. It was still, but it was clear that Ghadius' spirit inside was still conscious. "I really have underestimated their strength and perseverance." He observed, defenseless and weakened. However he seemed to be well aware that Lephise was staring at him. "I must ask you, songstress... Before you reinvigorate this world, entomb me once more like you have done three milleniums ago. I wish to keep this world and its people, this image closest to my victory, in my memory."

@Maxipawz

Her mind was coursing with the strange visions she had in her dreams. Nightmares were known to be traumatic, but yet she had not a person to speak to about them. She was left to keep them to herself, as a reminder. A soft gasp escaped Lephise's lips with the voice bringing her back to reality. She turned around to find herself staring upon the mask of her kidnapper, the King of Nightmares himself. "Ghadius..." She had personally never spoke to him this closely before. With her clenched hand against her heart, she took a few steps towards the king. "It has been three millenniums since we have met face to face. I've been so long without a nightmare. I have forgotten how it feels. You could consider me selfish for such." She looked down at her hands that she had clenched together. "Even though you face defeat, your impact has not fallen short. While I was in your care, it has given me much, much to think about..."

@DriftStar13

"You have. But you are not the only one who has been selfish." The entity responded, motionless. "There are many to blame. All of those who had cast nightmares away. Those who refused to listen and seal me away. I have given it my best efforts to enact my revenge." Ghadius sounded thoughtful. He seemed to know that he was at Lephise's mercy. What surprised him though that she was willing to listen. Could he see her? Perhaps he could read the alertness in her eyes. It was clear that he could hear her after all. The being chuckled, as if he found Lephises' words funny. His laugh was eerie. "If you believe that the people of this world would learn then you are quite foolish, Songstress... They only wish to dream, to cast away nightmares so they'll never have to face the cruel thing that is reality. It will be the downfall of this world even without my hand."

@Maxipawz

Lephise was guided by sound, and only by opening her eyes could she see him. "The world of Phantomile lives upon the prosperity of optimism. It is up to residents of power, such as I, to keep this shield up." She took another step forward. She was getting closer. "Phantomile is not ready to face nightmares, assuming they ever would. It will not hold up. You have seen the change yourself." She took in a deep breath. "I enable them to feel this way, to keep them ignorant of the possibility of failure, so they will only continue. This world means everything to me. My home. I will do anything in my power to keep it afloat. Yet I know it will never feel complete. It feels..." She released her hands, glancing down at them. "It feels...wrong. Why does it have to be this way? One can survive on the knowledge that they could fail, but still succeed against the odds. Learning to give up is only a part of life. This makes Phantomile a world that is simply too good to be true." It was strange, coming from a person such as Lephise. Perhaps she knew this for the longest time, yet tried in vain to deny it.

@DriftStar13

Ghadius returned the favor Lephise had granted him and quietly listened to her as she spoke. With him incapacitated there was nothing he could do but listen after all. She almost seemed to understand what he was saying, the message he was trying to bring through for all of these years. Ghadius remained silent for a good moment as an unfamiliar feeling welled up in what was left of him. "...Yes. It is wrong." He spoke eventually, though he fell silent again after. The spirit seemed to be lost in thought, and reaffirmed his point. To think someone finally understood what he was trying to say, it felt bizarre, like she was just stringing these words together to please him.

@Maxipawz

Something awakened in Lephise. A feeling of coming to terms with reality, a feat her fellow colleagues and residents fail to deliver. A feeling of helplessness. An inability to change what has been started. At least, it wouldn't come easily. "You deserve an explanation. I knew about this, but I've never come to terms with it. I do that because I simply can't change it. I can only keep it up. I only maintain dreams. I didn't want to feel sorry for myself, so I merely pushed it out of my thoughts. Even after so long, it has come back to find me. I realize now I can run from it, but I will never be able to hide." She lowered her arms, clenching her fists as she glanced away, eyes shut. "If anyone will carry this burden, it will be me. I may not be able to change their minds, but mine has been made."(edited)

@DriftStar13

Ghadius was left to observe as the Songstress became distressed, coming to terms with what he had been pleading for so long. He was right. He knew it. She knew it. Though, most likely, nobody else seemeed to realize that. While the king had put himself above everyone else in a blind rage to eliminate all he was right. After all this time, pain, and heartbreak he was right... "Lephise." Ghadius spoke to get her attention. "The world is waiting to be healed by you, as I am waiting to meet my fate." The entity spoke, "You must seal me away, for your invigorating songs would restore my form as well. You're losing time."

@Maxipawz

Lephise was shaking. She didn't want this. It wasn't fair. In a way, a blind sense of happiness was just as cruel as one with nightmares. On the other hand, a world with only nightmares was also just as cruel. There was no easy way out of this. All she knew was that she needed to do her job. "Of-of course...I am delaying the inevitable. Fate must be restored, and...so it shall." She merely spoke. Her movements became slow as she turned the other way, her back to the king. She brought her hands back together as she began walking her way back to the balcony she stood upon. There, she went still, frozen in her posture.

@DriftStar13

What suffering it was to come to terms with what Ghadius described as reality. Reality was cruel. There was no way around it. People just wanted to be happy, they hardly seemed to remember what it was even like to have a nightmare, to be sad, and to despair. Ghadius was left behind to watch as Lephise passed him stepping back onto the balcony. "Lephise." He spoke again, his voice more forceful this time. He really didn't want to be here. "You're forgetting. I am at your mercy. Please, do me this favor and seal me away for eternity."

@Maxipawz

Lephise's posture tensed. She left him to watch as she seemed to have other plans. "I know you are." She insisted. "But I no longer wish to run away from the truth. Eternity it is not. History will merely repeat itself, and we will find ourselves back here, even if it takes another three millennium. We will have learned nothing, nothing but the mere reminder that the world is like this. Something must be done." She glanced up at the sky. "Consider me cruel, consider me foolish, but I believe we can both agree that it is time for change. And sealing you away is not the answer. I am sorry." She took a few deep breaths, preparing to sing.

@DriftStar13

Lephise had to know that her action was risky. Many others would heavily disagree, especially after what had transpired. They'd think that she had gone mad from the torment that Ghadius had put her through, but she had to try. The beautiful, serene voice of Lephise carried through the world. It would heal its wounds and send their long-eared hero away to find his home. From her balcony Lephise could witness how much greener the grass became and how even the air smelled fresh and spicy with the scent of flowers. Lephise had done good, though had she done the right thing? Behind her, Ghadius's cloak, carried by the wind, fluttered off of the floor followed by his unsettling mask. As his hands appeared from the dimension within him he closed his coat, and the wind ceased. Ghadius stood, dignified as ever, as he gazed towards the lush and colorful world that Lephise had restored.

@Maxipawz

There it was. The Song of Rebirth. Such a graceful, harmonious tune. Her arms outstretched, she sung her heart out. The world around her began to flourish once again, its vibrancy and liveliness restored. The little lop-eared hero who had saved her and this world could now return home. She silently prayed for his safety. As she closed out her song, her eyes opened once again, clasping her hands as she found herself staring out into the world she truly knew. Now, life could continue. Of course, alongside peace and prosperity brought forth risk. Refusing to seal the King of Nightmares resulted in his full restoration, towering above the songstress. Lephise turned back around to face him in his full glory. "Ghadius...let us take this opportunity so we may find the balance this world needs."

@DriftStar13

Ghadius' sight was such an unsettling one, yet there was so much beauty in it. His earrings still moved a little in the wind as he stared outside, his pale face holding a mild frown. He wasn't happy, although he was positively surprised by Lephise's wish to restore balance. He truthfully didn't know how to react to it, so he simply stepped down the few steps to join her in leaving the tower. "Perfectly balanced... as all things should be."

#𝒮𝒾𝓂𝓅𝓁𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓃𝑔𝑒 // IC #Closed Thread #Discord Thread #Maxipawz #Klonoa: Door To Phantomile #𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝑜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉𝓇𝑒𝓈𝓈... // Lephise

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ryouverua · 5 years

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Trial 6 - My Will, Our Will (7)

A new challenger has appeared!

Trial: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6

Being on the other side of Shuichi’s glare and pointer finger is terrifying and now I’m understanding why all the culprits and others start freaking out so much. 8′D

Also, ooooh there it is, oh there’s Clair de Lune, i’mnotcryingyou’recrying

WE’RE REALLY DOING CLAIR DE LUNE THE WHOLE WAY THROUGH AREN’T WE

OH NO

A hope that requires two of their classmates to die... that’s the definition of ‘hope’ that was forced on them. K1-b0 is happy as long as he’s opposing despair - but Shuichi isn’t. I.... I think I understand what he’s saying.

“S-Seriously Shuichi, I really don’t get a chance to be cool very often and you’re really stealing my thunder -”

“You, uh, remember that my name is pronounced ‘Kii-bo’ too, right - ?”

“YOU HEARD WHAT I SAID!”

The music is continuing?!?! We’re using Clair de Lune the whole way through?? Man this is making even more of an impact than them playing the opening music - because there’s no triumph to be found here.

He seems so betrayed! S-Sweetcheeks, we really need to finish his last FTE when this is all over!

Oh..... oh....... oooooooh -

Shuichi why would you say something so controversial yet so brave -

“SEE!!! I CAN DO THIS TOO SHUICHI!!!”

mmm also look at my sweet v-counter skills guys -

It’s not some great overwhelming force of nature, or some grand enemy to be conquered, something that can be easily shoved into a defining box! It’s a feeling, like anything else! And sure, despair is considered ‘the dark side’, but are we just going to let them also define hope for us?

........

also. ALSO.

THESE COMMENTS. THESE COMMENTS. I-I can’t stop collecting them -

No, that’s wrong!

What are you saying, hat boy? i might steal ‘hat boy’ that’s really good

Can’t say anything now, scrub

He’s not wearing a hat anymore. THE COMMENTER CORRECTED THE OTHER ONE GFGH

What if Shuichi is the mastermind? girl where have you been for the last hour -

I wonder who’s going to live.

Hope always comes in waves.

You’re slipping up, detective.

hurry up and vote

Show me hope.

There’s hope because there’s despair.

Suck it, hope

Keebo’s not gonna lose!

Keebo is hope...

and hope lives on!

Shuichi is the cycle of despair?

Things are getting interesting.

The fight’s just started!

The endorphin rush they get when, despite all odds, the good guys win over the bad guys, reaffirming that ‘good’ always overcomes ‘evil’....

Or worse yet, they revel in it, because to paraphrase a certain someone, ‘they’ll use these tragedies to shine even brighter.’ Watching someone rise above adversity and come out the other side even stronger is inspiring. For the same reason that we enjoy playing the games and cheering the survivors on when Junko or whoever is ultimately defeated in the end, this audience eats up every round of the killing game. They can enjoy that with the privilege granted by being able to observe it from the outside, just like us. But strip that layer away, and -

I’m sorry, excuse me?

YEAH SHUICHI IS ON A ROLL HERE DON’T STOP HIM NOW

What’s with that look, Tsumugi? Is it because Shuichi wasn’t actually supposed to fight for despair? Or was the idea that he would be cheered on/convinced by K1-b0, the same way that Naegi convinced the others in the first game?

Th.... The music..... stopped....

LAZY PARALLEL WORLD!!!

oh man maybe Tsumugi can hear the music cues. Maybe she realizes Shuichi is onto something. now I’m imagining every time the music shifts Tsumugi’s the only one aware of it, and she’s also the only one reacting appropriately to it ffhg

Also, I assumed that the punishment was execution... but was... was that the mental trap???

Why wouldn’t there be?! They’re being ‘sacrificed’, aren’t they?!?!

Everything would make sense -

Oooh! Ooh - ! Is - is that what it is, then?!

Jeez, it’s super interesting to be in K1-b0′s POV for this - especially with Shuichi being the one asking us questions. Being in his POV before meant he never had the opportunity to really use leading questions like this, which really lends him an unexpected air of authority. Unexpected but earned, mind you...

HE’S DIRECTING QUESTIONS AT THE AUDIENCE NOW TOO?!?!

You continue the cycle....

Oh, poor, poor Rantaro -

Did he have the same options laid out for him? Or did he know that he would be choosing to repeat the game? He still had the determination to end the killing game.. so was that left over from his last game’s iteration? How many times has he repeated it? For that matter, how long has he been in holding while they gathered new people??? I swear that one commenter said they had waited 3 years, so???? Rantaro how old are you??

Was there only one person made into a sacrifice, or two like last game? .... side-eyes K1-b0 and Tsumugi -

Does... that mean Tsumugi was the mastermind last game too, or....

Also Maki as the Ultimate Survivor would absolutely tear things up. They’d have to pull another stunt like they did with Rantaro if they wanted her out of the game. She definitely has the fitness and demeanour to survive, unless she snaps on someone like she did on Kokichi in Chapter 5.

Just like Kokichi did, Shuichi is going to try and attack the game itself. His name really hasn’t come up since the motive video reveal, but I’d like to think that this strategy was inspired by his Chapter 5 plan.

What an interesting set of characters to represent despair winning. First we have Izuru, being all disdainful of their choice and mocking him with the word ‘boring’ - very much his thing, but also reminiscent of Kokichi. In fact, I suppose the despair option is very similar to the stalemate situation Kokichi installed when he was pretending to be the mastermind!

Then Celestia. She’s not a people-pleasing person. So why her? Thinking back, she was one of the most desperate to escape, despite hiding it... so maybe this is Tsumugi ‘showing’, not telling, that she isn’t happy with them choosing the despair option?

And then the hope fanboy... basically telling them that despair is the inferior option, but couching it in positive language. Passive-aggressively pushing them towards the actual answer (s)he wants - very on point for him.

Is it really okay to pass the buck like that?

In perpetuity...

I..... I don’t have an answer for that.

It does... sort of suck that he’s singling out those two in his speech, because it can feel like he’s being dismissive of everyone else - but I don’t think that’s true. He definitely appreciates the losses of everyone else, but those two were the ones that hit him hardest.

of course it’s bloody Komaeda over there having the time of his life during this speech

First of all - how strange is it that there are only a few people who look like they aren’t in excruciating pain right now. Rantaro’s face can’t be seen, Angie, Ryoma and Tenko look like they’re sleeping, and Kaito is smiling....

And - ah, Kokichi can’t even be seen. But there ‘he’ is, with his own section in this collage - I guess that third ‘body discovery’ we had in chapter 3 was the closest we would ever get to something real, huh? Poor guy...

“You said I’d be fighting the entire world, Tsumugi? Fine by me! Meet me behind the school after the trial!”

“S-Shuichi that’s a lot of people -”

“AND I’M GOING TO FIGHT EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM!!!”

That’s... true. There is a mental barrier that is hard to cross, especially if they’ve all conditioned themselves to accept real people dying for their own entertainment.

Also there are new comments, which means I am obligated to transcribe them. Most of them is the audience turning on Shuichi, damn. Okay, here it goes:

Forget about Shuichi

You’re in despair, right?

show me the despair ending

it’s okay to feel despair sometimes... THANK YOU ANON COMMENTER

Why have we been doing this...?

Hope doesn’t turn back!

The big reveal, at last

And it was just getting interesting.

We’re the mastermind.

Are they blaming us?

hurry up and refute it

C’mon, Keebo! Attack!

Force hope through.

something’s different right?

C’mon Keebo!

No, that’s wrong!

What’s going to happen?

mmm... Shuichi’s eyes ^q^ SWEETCHI97 STRIKES AGAIN

What are you saying, detective?

Oh!!! Oh shit!!! Shuichi you brilliant bastard!!!

“Thank god - I mean, let’s be honest, we all knew this was coming - uh, I mean -”

Actually though, how depressing. So many times we’ve talked about ‘reasons to live’, and later on, reasons to die, and lo and behold here we are, at the end of everything...

Shuichi’s learned from the best, Kokichi Ouma - sometimes, death is just a means to an end, and that end is usually flipping someone off.

Random thought - isn’t it interesting that Shuichi is the ‘lone man against everyone’ while Tsumugi, the final boss, is the one ‘acting on behalf of everyone’? When Naegi was trying to rally everyone on his side, they had known at that point that people had been fighting and dying to rescue them. For Hajime and the others, they had the defected Future Foundation members who had risked their own safety to come in and rescue them, and even had Nanami reach out to him. Shuichi, though... Shuichi came to this conclusion on his own, with everyone either against him or swept up in the narrative.

He told Kokichi at the end of Chapter 4 that ‘he was alone, and always would be’. But maybe... that’s not such a bad thing. Maybe Shuichi needed to be alone to have that clarity of thought, and to come up with a way to ‘end everything’. Anyway, it’s just an unexpected parallel I thought of - m-maybe I’m just inserting endgame Kokichi and Kaito thoughts here because the game didn’t. Whoops

I AM LIVING FOR THE TOTAL REJECTION OF THE ‘HOPE’ AND ‘DESPAIR’ THEME

TAKE THAT!!!!

It’s not your own will. 8c

Can you fight it? Do you have the ability to fight it? The strength of will?

I love Monokuma’s priorities.

OH WE HAVEN’T HAD A DEBATE IN A WHILE

omg we only have hope as a bullet

And all the noise says hope

Also Shuichi is dominating it too, holy shit! This strength in his voice is super inspiring!

thank you for bringing back angry Hanamura it’s still one of my favourite things from the second game

Ohoho I see what you did there with that line ~

i’m sorry I was just curious about the fluff text

CHARACTER GROWTH

I CANNOT BELIEVE IT

K1-B0 LEARNED TO LIE!!!! I NEVER THOUGHT THIS DAY WOULD COME!!!

“That’s redundant btw - I can read the comments just like the rest of you, and they literally are not shutting up about how much they want hope to win.”

speaking of which

What are you doing, Keebo?

Don’t give up hope!

Hope! Hope! Hope!

Please side with hope.

1 vote for hope!

I bet the mastermind is shocked. lol

Hurry up and show me hope.

HOPE!

COME BACK HOOOPE

Hope counter!

show us maki roll! oh hey she has fans too!

it’s unanimous hope.

Hope hasn’t lost yet.

Defeat despair!

cmon it’s hope again! right?

I’m routing for despair so *shrugs*

I got 10 bucks riding on hope. that’s it? weak

I’m on the side of hope, so...

I wanna break Shuichi’s fingers <3 SWEETCHI97 WHO HURT YOU

Huh? It’s hope?

So... So wow, even most of the people talking about wanting despair really did want the hope ending in the end. Shuichi read them like open books.

HE CAN! HE CAN DEFY THE AUDIENCE!!!! I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU K1-B0!!!!

This - this is why you’re the Ultimate Robot. Forget the upgrades - the ability to learn, grow, adapt and choose your own path is another part of your strength!

WE.... WE’RE LOSING HIS POV..... We’re losing his POV?!?!

Yeah??? You wanna expand on that???

T-Though I mean, they said they’re happy to let themselves die via no vote so exactly what can they do anyway? At the end of the day, they’re viewers, right? Relegated to an observational role. Powerful and untouchable.... but in turn, that separation of realities means what’s left of the class can’t be hurt by them, either.

Tsumugi he literally said he’s fine with dying. Exactly what can you threaten him with here???

How is it that after all of this, Shuichi is still unable to fight for himself? Maybe I should amend what I said before - he is fighting for other people. They just... well, they don’t know it yet. He’s fighting to prevent future victims, and he’s trading his own life to protect them. I guess in a sense he is fighting something ‘greater than himself’ like Naegi did, but even he had ‘hope that he and his friends would survive with a happy ending’. This is... completely the opposite of that.

GOODBYE DANGANRONPA INDEED, DAMN

And we’re back in his POV!

Oh man she is not happy about this. Not at all.

Hey? Hey Shuichi? What - what the fuck does that mean? You were going to end it all right then? Mid-trial? Excuse me what the hell did you take poison with you to the trial or something -

Oh - oh. I just realized. This... This was bloody foreshadowed, way back in Chapter 1 with the escape tunnel. With Kokichi’s speech to Kaede, about how she technically had the moral high ground when she was doing all the classic ‘we can’t give up here!’ encouragement, we got to see firsthand hope being weaponized against us. It was right there.

Of course they have Naegi pleading for hope here

He’s just talking over her omfg

You trivialized their lives in the first place and now they’re supposed to consider them sacred?!

It’s literally the only thing that still wholly belongs to them, so what other choice do they have???

Wait what is happening -

I’M HIMIKO NOW??!?!?

i can’t believe she was a slytherin this whole time

I’m quietly relieved that she doesn’t ‘nyeh’ in her internal monologue

THIS IS THE DARKEST EVIDENCE BULLET FOR ENDGAME DEAR LORD

this might be worse than nihilism - at least you weren’t able to use that

How interesting to have him fighting us (along with Sakura and Peko for that matter, the former who literally threw away her life for her classmates and the latter who treated her life as a tool for Fuyuhiko). This was his philosophy and motive of his trial, but he also chose to be the killer and used his life as a means to save the rest of his class, right? Tsumugi, what are you trying to pull here?

Though I guess the whole point was that they were all trying to help the others survive, and Shuichi is getting the whole class to kamikaze themselves so...

Damn, she didn’t take much convincing at all. It’s nice that she’s repping both Tenko and Angie here. 8′)

FUCK YEAH WE NAILED THIS HIMIKO! We work well together, who knew!

Himiko is so well-spoken here. And to think that she was the first to follow in Shuichi’s footsteps - I really thought it would be Maki. Good on you, Himiko.

lmao that segway - Alright, now it’s Maki time, right?

also Tsumugi why would you phrase it in a way to piss off Maki like damn seriously??

“No seriously why would you just call me out like that.”

........................

okay she has a point actually

Never forget that we are in a class trial where almost all of the survivors are introverts who prefer their emotions on the inside.

!!!!!!!

DFJGDSKFL SHUICHI ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME

Her... internal dialogue is so interesting and immediately comes off as different from Shuichi’s, Himiko’s and K1-b0′s. It seems... angrier, maybe. Is that it? Or maybe it’s all the red lines that makes it seem that way...

This whole line of her entire self being at the whim of someone else’s writing seems to be targeted at her more-so than the others because she’s already struggled with the idea that she’s had no choices in her life, and that she’s always been a weapon to be used by others. Actually, that’s probably why this hits so hard - she thought she was developing feelings on her own and making a choice to fight to defend him, and the idea of even that being taken away from her...

“I have love, but more importantly SPITE ON MY SIDE!!!”

AND ANOTHER ONE

hsdfjgh no don’t pan over the Kaito portrait w h y my heart

Angry Mikan is still as terrifying as she was in SDR2!

As an aside, I don’t know why Hagakure repeatedly showing up is so funny to me - I swear he’s been used more than the others? I-Is he secretly Tsumugi’s favourite character? is it because he’s also older than everyone else and she finds that thought comforting -

“I won’t go far as saying I don’t want to die mind you, but I’m surprisingly neutral on the subject!”

If Tsumugi’s ‘everyone’ who she’s fighting for is the living, then the ‘everyone’ Shuichi is fighting for is the dead...

Even if it’s fiction - it’s their reality. Expecting them to understand that because it’s someone else’s fiction... that’s just not fair, is it?

Sweetcheeks has an uphill battle to fight, but to have a second class revolt in a single game....

HEY SAIHARA-CHAN DID YOU HEAR THAT? THE ROBOT’S GETTING SASSY WITH ME!

K1-B0 YOU ABSOLUTE LEGEND

THE TEAM’S BACK TOGETHER!!!

That’s... that’s it. I think we’ve done it. They’ve finally done it! They were able to turn it around after all!

THIS IS OUR TURNABOUT!!!

#Shuichi Saihara #Tsumugi Shirogane #Himiko Yumeno #Kiibo #Keebo #Maki Harukawa #K1-b0 #Ryou plays drv3

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