#ive fixed myself to the best of my ability yet why am i not being taken notice of. i make myself look nice everyday. what does it take

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 35

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 13.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: mentions of past abuse, violence, anxiety    ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part two

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It is nearing nightfall by the time you all return to the ship. Yunho has already gotten Hongjoong settled in the medbay with Jongho’s help, as well as set him up with an oxygen mask and an IV, and to be frank, the sight of the infamous pirate captain splayed out so helplessly was hard to see. Whatever you were feeling must have been increased tenfold for the man who stood at your side during the whole process because you could feel the panic oozing off his bones, a nagging sensation that fell on you as well. As much as he tried to help, Yunho asked him to let him and Jongho take care of it, and Seonghwa caved with a surprising amount of haste. For better or worse, you don’t have to stay long there before Seonghwa is pulling you out to head up to the main airlock. It can only be worse because of who is waiting for you there: none other than Han Jisung come to join the crew for inexplicable reasons unbeknownst to you right now. And that is why you shift to look at Seonghwa’s sharp side profile as the two of you walk to join Yeosang in waiting by the airlock.

“Why are we bringing him aboard?”

“We need Jisung for information, and it will be less of a hassle to have him aboard,” Seonghwa explains through a clipped sigh. “I don’t trust the man as far as I can throw him, but… at least I can keep an eye on him this way.”

“Why can’t we just have Wooyoung help us through the dreams instead?”

Seonghwa glances over at you, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments before he looks forward once more.

“We don’t know how to communicate with him yet,” Seonghwa explains. His tone is a bit more gentle this time, nothing goading or forced but rather a genuine attempt to ease some of your bubbling anxieties. “You can’t talk to him, ask him questions, or consistently control his body long enough to figure out where they’re being held. Besides, they are locked in a cell, and you can’t very well ask a guard where they are. Until we learn more about this situation and your connection to each other, this is the best course of action.”

“Would Hongjoong let him on the ship?” You inquire. You can already assume the answer, and you’re only asking for some sort of confirmation that this is a bad idea, but Seonghwa presses his lips together to form a thin line.

“Hongjoong would understand how critical the situation at hand is.”

“Would you let him walk away without a fight too?” It is a bit out of line and far too bitter, but the words are already out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. Seonghwa freezes in place, steps coming to a sudden halt whilst you just continue walking as though you didn’t say a word. You can feel the way his eyes glare holes into the back of your head, and the twinge in your chest that pains your heart surely does not come from you. A wave of pain hits you as you turn to look Seonghwa in the eye.

“Hongjoong is different,” he whispers. “You know that. It isn’t that I don’t love or care about you, because I do. I feel both those things when it comes to you, in ways I can’t even begin to describe, which is why I want you to be happy and have a chance at freedom.”

“With someone whom you don’t trust or know?”

“You know and trust him yourself, do you not?” Seonghwa counters without missing a beat. “Am I supposed to decided who you trust now? Was it not you who told me that I didn’t need to worry about you? Shouldn’t doubt your abilities? I’ve already told you that I am not happy about this situation at all, but still I will not decide this for you, even if you ask me to.”

“Then what am I supposed to think? Right now it feels like you only want me gone so you can feel less guilty about going back to Hongjoong at the end of the day.” You turn on your heel, fully prepared to leave him standing there on his own in the heat of your unreasonable annoyance. Seonghwa closes the distance between your bodies with a surprising haste and grabs hold of your wrist, spinning you back around to face him in no time. You hardly have time to breathe before he’s knocking the air out of you by pressing you up against the wall of the corridor. You know what’s coming next before it happens, and it’s for that exact reason that you dip your chin to the side as Seonghwa moves in to plant his lips atop yours.

A dry and emotionless laugh escapes his lips instead, and you stare at the floor with eyes burning more than ever. Seonghwa slams a hand down hard on the space of metal beside your head.

“I should never have been selfish with you,” he mutters. You try not to think about how much bitterness his tone holds. “That was a mistake on my part. There is no security or certainty in a life like ours, nothing I can provide that would give you either of those things. I’m sorry for making you believe that I could ever give you something as certain as that.”

A thought dashes across the forefront of your mind, one that tells you to swallow the hurt nagging at your chest and take comfort in his body instead, but it doesn’t last long. You know better, and you know it wouldn’t fix anything in the long run. It will only make it harder on both of you if you let yourselves get any more attached before your inevitable demise that ends in you leaving with Jisung.

“Do you regret this?” Your voice could not possibly be more quiet than it is now. You lift a shaky hand to his chest, pressing your palm hard against the spot that now emanates the most pain. “Getting close and such?” Seonghwa shifts to place his hand over yours but hesitates at the last second. His lips twist into a strained smile.

“I do, but only because it is ending with you in pain. No, I don’t regret any of the time I spent with you, and I still mean everything I told you. Perhaps this is for the best. I am content with the time I got to spend with you, and I won’t ask for anything more than that.”

“All I wanted you to do was stop me,” you plea as though it will make him change his mind right here and now.

“There’s nothing to stop yet, Y/N.”

“Do you need me to show you how badly I don’t want to go for you to stop me?” Seonghwa exhales a deep heave of air and pulls away from you.

“What do you want more than anything else?”

“San back safely.” Seonghwa barely finishes his question by the time you’re answering, but in your mind, there is no need for any sort of hesitation. If Seonghwa is surprised at all, he doesn’t let it slip through; all he does is smile back at you. You only realize your mistake after the fact, stuttering in your next rush to speak. “A-And Mingi and W-Wooyoung as well.”

“What about after that then?”

His question doesn’t stump you because you don’t know the answer. You know what it is you want when this is all over. You want to rest, to stop running, for all this mess to be done with, and you don’t want to have to worry about your safety at every turn. You don’t want to wake up in a cold sweat afraid that the people you care about could be dead. You desperately want peace, but you aren’t brave enough to make the sacrifices that will get you there. Even so, there is no way you could admit it now because that would only make Seonghwa right.

“Your silence is answer enough for me.”

“That isn’t what I want with Jisung though,” you insist. “He is my past, not my future. I never let myself imagine a scenario in which I would see him again. I’ve made it this far with you all. I don’t want to leave you behind now. And even after we get the others back, I still won’t want to leave them behind either.”

“That may be the case, Y/N, but it’s — the truth of the matter is that no matter what, my first duty will always be to protect Hongjoong as his lieutenant. Perhaps that is why those lingering feelings of love are still present, but it also means that I don’t know if I can give you my love and promise to stop loving him as well. That’s — that’s beside the point though.” Seonghwa shakes his head, hand coming up to comb through his dark locks for a second before dropping back to his side. “If how I feel about Hongjoong is something you aren’t okay with, then I don’t want you to wait on me or my feelings. That isn’t what I want for you. However, this conversation can continue another time. We’ve kept Yeosang waiting long enough.”

There isn’t an opportunity to say anything more because Seonghwa steps away and returns to walking down the corridor without even waiting to see if you’ll follow. You have to jog to catch up with his broad strides, falling into step beside him with a bit more hesitance in your movements this time.

“Has… has Jisung learned anything yet?”

“The person behind all of this is still not guaranteed. Vladimir was merely an instrument for these plans, but according to Jisung, he said that there would be a special exchange on Dorado for Mingi and the others. Since you were originally the one they wanted, there is still uncertainty about what they plan to do with Wooyoung and San. Mingi, on the other hand, is set to be sent to a recreational facility on Dorado that specializes in Berserker training for pirate and bandit crews. They plan to reprogram him back into – into the Brute of Kebos, at which point he will be sent back to Vladimir. That’s apparently the bargain he made to agree to this plan. You were the prize meant for the other party but obviously, that fell through.”

“Why me of all people? With all the people on this ship, why am I significant in the slightest? Especially on Dorado of all places?”

Seonghwa shakes his head from side to side.

“Vladimir didn’t mention anything in the past few meetings Jisung has attended. We don’t even have the slightest clue as to why they want you, and still no word on who these people even are. Of course, the Ghost of Eros is valuable, there’s no doubt about that, but not this far from Eros and the Aurum system. And they certainly wouldn’t go to these lengths to get you.” His words die there, voice falling flat along with the sentence, and you watch him in silence for several seconds before he shifts to place a gentle hand on your shoulder. “It is evident that someone in the universe is looking for you, and they are taking great risks to get you.”

“They will have to try a lot harder than that if they want me.”

Seonghwa blinks back at you, eyes perceptive and searching as always. He seems to figure something out at that moment because his stare widens a bit before dropping to the floor without a word.

“What’s wrong?” You inquire, leaning closer to look at his face better.

“Nothing. Just a hunch. I’ll let you know if it becomes a concern later.” He shrugs off the concern and lets his hand fall off your shoulder to motion down the corridor. Yeosang has surely grown impatient by now, and it’s that thought that causes your steps and Seonghwa’s to increase in pace to meet him at the airlock. Only, once you finally reach that place, you find that he is not alone, and Jisung stands directly across from the taller blond, starkly out of place in front of Yeosang. You don’t need to visibly see Yeosang’s expression to know that the Elitist is glaring at Jisung – it’s evident in the way Yeosang speaks through his body with the tense shoulders and crossed arms, chin inclined just enough to be condescending, yet Jisung doesn’t seem phased by the man in the slightest. In fact, he just turns to you, eyes bright as ever, and grins from ear to ear like a Cheshire.

“Hey, little lady.” Something in the way he speaks those words with that smile that is branded on your brain and hand quickly darting out in your direction triggers a memory you didn’t know you had.

“Stop being a fucking idiot! You know I’m better than you, don’t you?” A hand stretches out towards you, writhing forward like a snake in the darkness, and you flinch away from the touch despite knowing that the man won’t lay a hand on you. “The next person who dares to say that to you will die a painful death.”

“J-Jisung?”

“I don’t care what kind of monster I become in their eyes. If I go to hell, so be it. They touch you, they die. Those are the rules, aren’t they? If anyone other than me lays a single finger on you…” Jisung trails off, lips twisting into a smile that is far too cruel for his gentle and precious features. “I will deliver a slow and deliberate death to each of them.”

Jisung’s hand is about to brush over your wrist – the one that bears the brand of your betrayal – when Yeosang steps between your body and his, hand coming up to knock Jisung’s own out of the way.

“It would be best for you to not cause any issues while you’re here,” the Elitist murmurs. He cocks his head to the side, maintaining that cruel and cocky air about his shoulders as he looks down at Jisung. “I’m not one for forgiveness, and you are merely here as a guest. Someone who isn’t important to the crew and has no place here. You would do well to remember that before trying to lay a hand on anyone in the crew.”

A scowl overtakes Jisung’s expression, and the man steps back to put some distance between himself and Yeosang.

“I knew her for five years. Perhaps you are the one who needs to remember your place, no?” Jisung jerks his chin forward a bit. “Or does the Royal Betrayer still think he has some impact and power over others?”

Yeosang might have lunged straight through Jisung’s throat for that comment if not for the way Seonghwa rushes to clamp his hand down hard on the man’s shoulder. He tugs Yeosang back with as much force as he can, but the simmering expression of anger on the lieutenant’s features is directed solely at Jisung.

“I would advise you to watch your mouth, Han. As acting caption, I decide your place on this ship, and that is as a guest. We need you for the time being but not in the long run, thus you ought to learn your place and remember that well.” Seonghwa plasters a stretched grin over his lips. “Now, if you would please follow me to the bridge, we can discuss in more detail the plans moving forward.”

He motions past Yeosang’s shoulder to the corridor leading to the bridge, but Jisung’s only response is to continue staring at you without saying anything for several seconds. Seonghwa’s gaze flits over to Yeosang, and the pair exchange a discreet nod before Yeosang shifts in your direction. His hand finds your arm, clamping down hard on the skin as he moves to pull you along, but another hand snakes out to push between the two of you.

“Is it not common courtesy amongst royalty to ask a lady before touching her?” Jisung bears a smile but venom drips from his tone in a way that sends shivers down your spine.

“I hate the military. Every single general and commander is corrupt beyond belief. There’s no circle in hell low enough for them. But those higher-ups? The royals who sit on their thrones and sip their expensive wine while prancing around like utter fools as the rest of us folk suffer and die on the streets… they’re the worst scum in the entire universe.”

Jisung has never liked people in positions of power, but his incessant rants about royals were always the worst to sit through because he could go on for hours and hours. Thus, it doesn’t surprise you to see him bearing such a disdain for Yeosang. Even so, you do find it a bit odd seeing as Yeosang is hardly in a position of power now, and he is no longer a royal so there isn’t much he could do with that nonexistent power.

“Think you can just take anything for yourself, is that it?”

“Han Jisung,” Seonghwa hisses, teeth so tightly pressed together that the air whistles through them. “I have no qualms tying you to a chair in the brig and extracting information from you that way. You should consider me to be merciful because if Scourge were here, he would have already dragged you there by your ankles. Learn your place before I force you to.”

One corner of Jisung’s lips tugs upwards as he grins at the lieutenant.

“Aye, aye, acting Captain.”

You can breathe easy again after that thankfully because Seonghwa manages to tug Jisung down the hall without any further disturbances. Yeosang stands completely still and watches the two retreat without saying a word for a short period of time.

“Your taste in men is questionable at best,” he grumbles after a bit, eyes continuing to bore holes into Jisung’s back.

“He just—” You stop yourself before any sort of defense slips out. It isn’t your job to defend him anymore. You have no need to protect him or say anything good about him at all. Yet even though you don’t need to, that inherent need to do so still resides in your gut. “He doesn’t like people in positions of power.”

“Is that so?” Yeosang hums to himself then shakes his head. “Come on. We can discuss the dreams you’ve been having and things you’ve noticed since coming on the ship while they’re discussing plans.”

It’s enough indication for you to realize that he no longer wants to discuss Jisung, and that is frankly fine by you. The silence it leaves you in, however, is not welcome. You don’t realize how vehemently you are rubbing at the brand on the inside of your wrist until Yeosang glances over at you and comments on the repetitive motion.

“You’re going to rub the skin raw if you keep doing that.”

“O-Oh,” you exhale, clenching your fingers into a tight fist and dropping your arms to your side. That’s all he says for the rest of the arguably short walk to his quarters, and he maintains a distance of several feet between you the entire time.

“You can sit on the bed as long as you don’t touch anything,” Yeosang mutters once inside his room.

It’s a basic and unadorned room, something you didn’t expect from a man who grew up surrounded by excessive lavishness, but for some odd reason, it is so inexplicably Yeosang that you can’t be too surprised. The blond heads straight for a small desk pushed into the corner of the room, one that sits beside a tall bookshelf similar to the ones you see in Seonghwa’s room. You do as told and sit on the corner of the bed so close to the edge that you practically fall off. There’s no need to be comfortable if you aren’t going to be staying for long after all.

“I don't need you messing anything else up so just stay put,” Yeosang says as he sinks onto the cushioned seat behind the desk. You pin him to the spot with a glare.

“Messing anything else up? What’s your issue with me?” You spit, arms coming up to cross over your chest.

“Hm? Does there have to be a reason for me to not like you?”

“I don’t get what your fucking problem with me is. Ever since joining the crew, I have done nothing that directly hurts you or puts you in danger, so what the fuck is your issue with me?”

“Is that so?” Yeosang arches a brow in your direction and matches your glare with one of his own. “If not for you, Wooyoung would still be here. Did you forget about that?”

That bites a bit too hard at your skin; it digs its way into your system and buries itself there to eat away at your bones. It’s the same guilt that has been eating away at you for the past few days, and you don’t need Yeosang to bring it up now and make it worse for you.

“Like it or not, I have a connection with Wooyoung and we have to work together to get him, San, and Mingi back.”

“I hate you,” Yeosang hisses. “I hate everything about you. And I especially hate your connection with Wooyoung. You are going to ruin him, and I hate you for it.” The tone he speaks with betrays the fact that there is more to it than that, but you aren’t particularly in the mood to have a tell-all discussion about all the reasons why Yeosang hates you. A pent-up confession, yes, but still not quite all there is to know.

“It’s not my fault that there’s something there. I didn’t ask for this, and I certainly don’t want it. I would be perfectly content being some damn Normie who didn’t have to worry about something like this,” you ramble without stopping to take a breath once. You blink furiously at the man as you catch your breath, eyes still blazing with uncontained rage when you decide to speak again. “It sounds like you are just jealous that you can’t be the one with a connection to him. Did you get everything you wanted when you were a prince? Is Wooyoung the one thing you can’t have?”

Yeosang lifts an old book off his desk and chucks it at the wall adjacent to him. It slams hard against the metal with a clang. You manage not to flinch in the slightest, staring Yeosang down with the same amount of heat as before.

“Allow me to have an ounce of jealousy! I got to choose absolutely nothing in my life while I was a prince, contrary to popular belief. Everything was selected for me, whether it was by my bastard father or the whore that was my mother. Hell, even my younger brother got to choose more than I did! I didn’t choose Wooyoung, but my love for him is one of the only things I ever got to choose back then. Does that let you just waltz in here and have this inexplicable connection to him? When fate told us that we were never even supposed to meet? I won’t ask for your forgiveness in this matter, because I have every right in the universe to be angered and jealous.”

“Then at least stop hating me for something I could not choose,” you demand, nose wrinkling in disgust as you spit the words in Yeosang’s direction.

“Protecting Wooyoung at all costs is the only thing that truly matters to me.” Yeosang lets out a deep sigh and looks down at the desk before him. “I’ll stop hating you when you prove yourself not to be a threat to Wooyoung’s safety.”

“How do you expect me to do that?”

“Getting Wooyoung back in one piece would be a fantastic place to start, don’t you think? Do you not feel that same way about San?” There’s a twitch in the corner of your eye that won’t go away even after Yeosang finishes speaking.

“I don’t like what you are trying to imply with that, Yeosang.”

“Take it as you will,” the man states in response. He angles his sharp chin towards you, blond hair wavering a bit with the sudden motion. “Your feelings might still be a mystery to me, but I have known San for years. I know him well enough to see how clear his feelings are for you and what you mean to him. Is that not what is holding you back from our dearest lieutenant?”

A bitter taste of ambiguity resides in his tone, and it’s something that you cannot get out of your mind. Yet the more you think about it, the more confusing it seems to get because there is no clear answer to Yeosang’s question. All this time, you figured it was Seonghwa who was holding back thanks to how he feels about Hongjoong. Sure, there was a possibility of your past love for Jisung getting in the way too but the realization that you would have to lose this crew in order to go back to him quickly dispelled the romantic notion of returning to him. San was never part of the picture — at least not in the way you think Yeosang is insinuating.

“What do you mean?” You ask after several breaths of terse silence. Yeosang doesn’t answer quite yet; he returns to staring blankly at the wood of his desk, fingers of his right hand coming up to rub at the inside of his left wrist without reason. You’re well aware of what lies under the fabric of his black shirt, the brand on his skin that you bear on your own, and the losses that came along with such a mark.

“In order to give your all to someone,” he starts in a quiet tone, “you have to be willing to make sacrifices. I gave up a lot to save Wooyoung, but seeing the look on his face once we were finally free made all of it worth it. I would never go back unless it was to fully guarantee Wooyoung’s safety. You still haven’t found that moment with Seonghwa have you?”

Your eyes give away the answer to that question in the way your darting gaze slips to the floor and avoids Yeosang’s insistent aura.

“Seonghwa mentioned the deal you made with Han to gain his cooperation in this mess. And how you don’t truly want to follow through with your end of the deal, yet you’re doing it anyway. For what reason?” You open your mouth to respond only to realize that it is merely meant as a rhetorical question when Yeosang continues speaking. “Because you are guaranteeing San’s safety, you would go to a place you don’t truly want to go. You would do something that every ounce in your body disdains to an unbelievable degree simply because it guarantees one person’s safety.”

“I’m doing it for Wooyoung and Mingi too,” you counter with too much haste, and it betrays the truth about the matter and your defensiveness. Yeosang’s lips quirk up into a slight smile. You would almost say that the gesture seems genuine in that moment.

“You say that with your words yet your eyes tell all. It’s on you to recognize it.” He cuts himself short there and shakes his head a bit. “That’s all… that’s all beside the point, however, since this is supposed to be about your dreams.”

“And what exactly is it you need to know about my dreams?” You tilt your head to the side as you ask the question, arms coming up to fold over your chest in a desperate attempt to defend yourself from his scrutiny.

“Well, first of all, there’s something I’m curious about.” Yeosang shifts to pull something from the drawer, and when he resurfaces, he has a small bound leather journal in hand. “Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it. But when you came aboard, that dream suddenly stopped happening altogether. He hasn’t had it since meeting you.”

“I’ve – I’ve never had any sort of dream like that. Just… one dream about seeing a man with dark hair across a black lake. But h-his back was to me, so I couldn’t see his face. For all I know it was some random person and not Wooyoung.”

“And the other one?” Yeosang asks out of the blue. He arches a brow, eyes searching yours for answers, and you’re a bit taken aback by the question since you don’t recall mentioning a second dream to anyone other than Wooyoung. Ah… “He mentioned that one day in the medbay, where the two of you were late to the meeting on the bridge — you woke up shouting his name and asked him something odd.”

“Well, yes, but that… I had a dream about seeing Wooyoung in chains and the same collar he has now, but it didn’t feel quite like a dream. Moreso a memory than anything else.” Yeosang draws his lips into a tight purse.

“I can’t help you there.” The dismissive nature of his tone sends a sudden spike of rage through you, and you level the Elitist with a harsh glare.

“What do you mean you can’t help me? If that truly is a memory, then I deserve to know what my own past is as much as Wooyoung does!”

“I — calm down, Y/N. I’m not saying that I am choosing not to help you; genuinely I cannot. I don’t know anything about that. Wooyoung’s past — the one prior to when the two of us met — I have no knowledge of it, and according to everything he’s told me, he doesn’t either. Before the batch of slaves he was in came to Aera, their minds were wiped. Just as yours was for the military.”

Several years back, there had been one night in particular with your unit where all of you were up late in your bunks to exchange old ghost stories and legends, but something Hyunwoo had said at the time stuck out to you the most then.

“What do slaves and soldiers have in common? The cost of their service is worth more than a lifetime.”

And at the time, you hadn’t known exactly what that would mean in the long run, but now you think it makes quite a bit more sense. You sacrificed fourteen years of your life to join the military and be their property. Gave up an entire lifetime in service to the crown, and for what? You were no less a slave than Wooyoung must have been. How many years did they steal from him?

“Wooyoung knows fairly little about his time before coming to the palace on Aera. Even saying fairly little is being more than generous. Perhaps the only thing I genuinely sympathize with as it concerns you is that. Your pass was stolen from you, and there is no guarantee that you will ever get it back. While my childhood was far from pleasant, it always pains me when Wooyoung asks to hear about the times before him because I know that he doesn’t that. There is no ‘before me’ for him, just the day he stepped off a slave vessel and greeted my family.”

“You don’t mean — how long exactly have the two of you known each other?”

“Since we were nine years old,” Yeosang replies, a soft and genuine smile painting his lips. “Fourteen years. We’ve spent over two-thirds of our lives together, yet it’s still not enough to take away the fact that Wooyoung has a chunk of his life missing entirely in memories.”

“Were you… his master?” Your mind can’t move past the fact that they have been together all this time, through the years that Wooyoung was a slave and onwards. You haven’t had anyone be a steady rock for such a long time; the longest you’ve ever spent with someone to your knowledge was four years at best. But fourteen? That is the amount of time missing from your own memories. Is it possible that you had someone the way Yeosang and Wooyoung had each other for so long? A foundation in your life meant to ground you?

“No, never. He was assigned to my side, yes, but my mother was his true master.” Yeosang’s expression grows grave in that moment, and you know the look in his eyes well enough to guess that it is a sensitive and touchy subject that you should avoid. Thus, you shake your head ever so slightly to dispel the curiosity and move to a separate question.

“Then how did the two of you come to be here together?” You know a vague telling of the story of Kang Minhee, the Royal Betrayer who abandoned his dying father when it was his time to take up the crown, but nowhere in those stories is another person mentioned. No slave, no Wooyoung, no trace of any other name besides Yeosang’s original one.

“My father was sick, and the stress it put on my mother’s shoulders made her more cruel. I couldn’t bear to see her harm Wooyoung anymore, and thus I did what I thought was best and set him free in the night. Told him to go off and gain passage on a merchant’s ship to get off the planet. Then, as a stroke of vengeance against my mother, I stole documents concerning one of her many affairs and threatened to bring them to my father so that he would know she was a cheap whore on his deathbed. But even princes can’t get away with such things. My mother swapped the documents and told the guards that I stole highly confidential war declarations among other things instead, and thus I was charged with treason, given my brand, and stuck in jail.”

“Obviously you got out,” you murmur, leaning a bit closer as Yeosang tells his tale. “And met up with Wooyoung at some point.”

“Wooyoung is the only reason I got out. Rather than leaving the planet as I asked him to, he caught wind of how Kang Minhee had been placed behind bars for treasonous actions, and he thought it was because I helped him escape. He made a deal with a pirate crew to help gain my freedom, and Wooyoung personally set me free after six torturous nights of separation. I… being apart from Wooyoung for even that long was worse than treason itself. As my assistant, Wooyoung had a bed in my room so he could be at my side no matter the hour. He came with me anywhere and everywhere, even when it came to shadowing my father on his military tasks.”

There lies an unspoken cry of desperation in his words. You aren’t too dense to miss it, but the acknowledgment of said cry leaves a searing pain in your chest.

Yeosang drops his gaze to the desk. Something melancholy and sad takes over his expression, like he’s turning the pages back in a book and revisiting older chapters of his life that are less than pleasant, and for a moment, your heart goes out to him. The person he has had in his life for fourteen years — no doubt someone he never parted from even for a week — is no longer by his side. Again you feel that pull to bring Wooyoung back if only for Yeosang’s sake, for the sake of a faulty Elitist who found something more powerful than sheer reason and logic.

“We’ll get him back, Yeosang,” you whisper. “I’ll make sure of it.”

…

Your eyes open to a thick and palpable darkness that leaves you more than a little disoriented for several seconds. The scenery refuses to change around you even as you blink against the shadows to adjust to the shifting light. You blindly feel around for Seonghwa’s presence, stretching your hand out to find his form since the two of you were supposed to come to the Dreamscape together, but you can’t find him anywhere around you.

“Seonghwa?”

“Y/N,” he exhales, bringing an immediate wave of calm over your shoulders. A hand brushes over yours in the shadows, and you clasp tight at the fingers without second thought. “Something isn’t right.”

You don’t need to be a scholar or have infinite knowledge about this place to recognize that, but Seonghwa’s confusion brings a knot of panic to your gut.

“Where are we?”

“The Dreamscape but…” Seonghwa trails off as something collides with wood, echoing a hollow sound, and his body stops moving immediately upon impact. “Hold on, there’s — it feels like a door.” Seonghwa fumbles around a bit at the wood before the panel slides open, disappearing into the side of the wall, and pale yellow light filters over you. You can’t see past Seonghwa’s broad shoulders, but the slight pulse of his fingers squeezing yours tighter doesn’t bring any relief to your bones. He keeps you there behind him even as he steps into the dimly lit room.

A small fire crackles somewhere ahead, the only sound in the den of silence you’ve entered. When you at last step around Seonghwa’s back to stand at your side, your heart practically stops dead in your chest because of the form that sits before the fireplace.

“What’s going on?” Seonghwa asks before you have a chance to get anything out. None other than Daichi sits in front of the fire, hands clasped tight over his lap as he watches the flames dance before his eyes. Upon hearing, Seonghwa’s question, the old man jerks his chin to face the two of you. A heated glare greets you before anything else, along with a rage you haven’t seen from the man in a long while.

“I warned you, Kazuya.” Unless you’ve suddenly occupied another unknown form, there is no way that Daichi is speaking to you, and the way the old man’s gaze shifts to your companion only confirms that suspicion. Umiko, Tsukio, and Kazuya? What significance are those names supposed to hold? “I told you both, in fact. I said not to go looking for more Sirens!”

Daichi pushes up from his chair all of a sudden, seeming to grow in stature without warning as he looms over the fire, and crude shadows twist his features in ugly shapes and patterns.

“It is your job to guide Sirens to each other,” Seonghwa hisses as he pulls forward to match Daichi’s heat.

“And yet I told you not to do exactly that! It may be my job, but it is not my duty to do so. I too am allowed to have free will.”

“Then we have the same luxury! Who are you to keep us from finding others of our kind? Have we not been alone for long enough? Was it not you who guided us to find each other in the first place?”

“That was a stroke of faulty luck!” Daichi counters, and it causes Seonghwa to falter a bit. “Let this serve as a lesson in cruelty, boy. This place, this Dreamscape, it is mine to shape and mold. I have let you walk around too freely without consequence.”

If Seonghwa has anything else to add to the argument, he does not get the opportunity to say it because Daichi pushes forward, body contorting and melding into a blur before your eyes as he steps through the fire and out of sight. You can hardly stand and gape at the scene that just transpired in front of you for long though; new voices rise to your ears, soft and warm tones that speak in hushed whispers. You turn as Seonghwa does, finding two new forms who seems utterly oblivious to your presence in the dim room. A young woman, hardly older than thirty by the looks of it, and a tall child with jet black hair stand on the creaking floorboards near the door. They don’t face you or even spare you the slightest of glances, too caught up in their own little world to breathe in your direction.

“Darling, it’s time to run off to your hiding spot. Your favorite one, you remember?” The woman combs a few long fingers through the boy’s hair, brushing it off his forehead. “I’ll count down from ten, and by the time I’m done, you must be completely hidden. You know what to do, my angel.”

She nudges his shoulder once, and it prompts the boy to lunge into action, little legs working hard to dash through the room and out of sight before she can even begin counting.

“Ten…”

“Seonghwa, what is this?” You murmur. Your gaze is so transfixed on the scene unfolding before you, and Seonghwa seems to be in a similar predicament but his face wears too much concern for you to feel at ease in this place. There lies an odd tension in the air, one that tells you this is not some fun child’s game that the mother and her son are playing.

“Thr—”

“Where the fuck is he?” The door jerks and wobbles as it is flung open, and in its place stands a man nearly as tall as the doorframe with similarly dark hair and a fair complexion. His brows are so closely knit that you can’t see the skin between them, evidence of the rage that falls off his body in waves.

“Donghy—” The sharp and resounding smack of an impact too cruel for words interrupts her, and you turn away with a gasp on your lips. Seonghwa’s body jolts forward in their direction, but you snatch him by the wrist before he can move far.

“Th-They can’t see us, Seonghwa,” you huff out, unable to look over your shoulder again. “They would have seen us by now if we could do anything.” Seonghwa offers no response but his hand tightens into a clenched fist that causes his knuckles to bleed white.

“Where is that little brat? I finally worked out a good deal on the bastard, a quick trade for slave traders.”

“I – I don���t know. I haven’t seen him. H-He ran away earlier because I was yelling at him!”

“Did the fucker break another of your dishes?”

“No, no, he just – he wouldn’t shut up while I was trying to read. I… I don’t know where he is. I went out looking for him but couldn’t find him anywhere!”

“You’re just as useless as he is! Can’t even keep the fucker inside for two seconds while I go out and get the money for us?” Seonghwa tugs his arm out of your grasp, pushing away from you as best he can, and you follow him blindly to another door off to the side.

“W-Where exactly are we, Seonghwa?” You inquire, falling into step beside him. “What’s going on? Is this — is this a memory? Wooyoung’s?”

“No. It’s mine.” Seonghwa twists at the waist. You inhale so sharply that the air burns your throat and lungs, eyes blown wide at the shock of the revelation. A single long finger reaches out to point down to something near the fireplace, and you squint hard at the spot before realizing that a small vent sits at that exact spot on the wall. “I hid in that vent for four days to avoid my father at age six. By the time those four days were up, the slave dealer he had made a deal with had grown impatient and left the planet. And my mother took the brunt of my punishment for me.”

Seonghwa turns back to the door before him and pushes through it. You follow close at his heels, hand hovering over the center of his back. The memory seemed less than pleasant for him, and you didn’t miss the disdain in his tone as he spoke about it, but offering comfort right now feels a bit out of place. The scenery shifts as you pass through the door, but only enough for you to realize that these doors aren’t going to get you anywhere. You now stand in a different house, one that is much more run-down and decrepit from the looks of it. The young boy – the young Seonghwa, to be more accurate – stands in the doorway at the front of the room, rain soaking his skin and dripping from his dark bangs. There isn’t time to look around and take in the surroundings more because the same woman from the first memory comes rushing into the room.

“What do you think you’re doing, Seonghwa? You’re supposed to be at the military base training with the other recruits! Why are you here?” She stops in front of the boy and clasps her hands tight around his shoulders. All the boy can manage in response is a small shake of his head, and silence envelops the pair for so long that it grows uncomfortable.

“I-I was rejected,” the young Seonghwa says at last. “They… they turned me away. I’m s-sorry, Mother, I’m so—”

“Shh, my angel, it’s alright. Let me see your face.” The woman stoops to be eye level with the boy, hands reaching up to cup his face. As she lifts his head, you get a clearer look at the state of his face; it’s littered with bruises along with a split lip and a cut along his cheekbone where the skin has broken. “What happened!? Seonghwa, honey, wh-what happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” The boy shrugs his mother’s touch off with a huff of air.

You shift to look at the real version of Seonghwa by your side, but his gaze remains locked on the scene unfolding in the room with glistening eyes that hurt to look at.

“The other recruits… at the time, they took me to an alleyway and bean me down like a dog,” he explains over the discussion between his memories. “All because I was born in a lower class, born in the Slums, not one of the Elitists who came from the Upper Echelon like them. Not good enough for the military even at age ten.” He exhales a loud scoff, teeth sinking into his lower lip so hard that you think he’s about to bite straight through the skin there. Seonghwa says nothing more; instead, he pushes back through the door you two just stepped through, only to welcome a new scene that causes him to freeze so quickly that you knock against his back.

“Go, Seonghwa! Why can’t you just go?” His mother is on her knees before the figment of his memories, an older version of himself that is not much taller than the one you just saw. “Do what they want! For my sake, if nothing else. They offered so much money for you, more money than we’ve ever seen in our lives. If you would just go, they’ll give it to us! I’ll have enough money to live happily for the rest of my life without having to go out on the streets and sell my body. Don’t you want that for me? Doesn’t my own son want me to have that freedom? Ever since your father passed and left us alone, I’ve been suffering so much. Can’t my angel just go with them for my sake?”

“I – I don’t want to go with them. They want me to – I don’t want to sell my body to them, Mother. I-I’m too young, please.”

It’s not the response the woman wants to hear, and she throws her hands down on her son’s shoulders, shoving the boy back until he stumbles and hits the creaking floorboards harshly. The Seonghwa at your side doesn’t let the memory continue past that point. He steps around you, fists clenched tight by his side and chest rising and falling with unsteady breaths. You aren’t sure how much more of these memories you can take, and that feeling must be increased tenfold for Seonghwa since this is his life he’s being forced to relive. There doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, this cruel torture of Daichi’s making returning again as you follow Seonghwa back through the door. This time, however, you step out into a rainy street, cold droplets painting your skin and sticking to your white gown.

There stands another Seonghwa in front of you, one that is a bit more like the real one who is at your side but still holds a bit of youth and innocence to his features.

“It was pointless to try to keep you safe,” a voice hisses through the din of the rain. It’s his mother again, and this time she stands in a doorway completely shielded from the rain as her son takes the brunt of the barrage from above. “This was the only chance I had at a decent life. I could’ve moved to the Upper Echelon with all that money, but you just had to go and ruin it for me. Like you always do. You should never have been born! Look where it’s gotten me! That plague my father had was passed down to you and I have suffered every day because of it. I should have thrown you to the wolves the moment I learned what you are. You won’t be my fucking problem anymore, though. Go! Get out of here and don’t ever come back! You are not my son, you never have been, and never will be!”

“Imagine a child’s worst crime being that he was born to a world that didn’t want him.” The man at your side shifts to look you in the eye now, face contorting with disgust as he watches his memory play back. “All because I was born as a Siren. I spent sixteen years of my life being hated and turned away because of what I was. Even by people who didn’t know my identity. No one wanted me, and the only ones who were willing to pay for me were people who wanted me for my body and not what or who I was. And then…”

Seonghwa turns away with a smile. He pulls back once more and reaches back for the door behind him. You follow him without comment, unspoken curiosities at your lips as you step into a room full of overwhelming noise and the stench of alcohol. A bar, no doubt, and one that Seonghwa recognizes in an instant based on the way his shoulders fold back and he perks up at the sight of it.

“And then I found Hongjoong,” he whispers, dark eyes swimming with waves of emotions. You mimic his line of sight to find a near unrecognizable version of Hongjoong standing before a run-down bar counter with a mop of long brown hair styled in a messy mullet that runs down the back of his shoulders. And sure enough, another version of Seonghwa stumbles in as well, seemingly a continuation of the last memory with the way his hair is damp and sticking to his forehead.

“Are you the one looking for recruits?” He pants as he comes up to the counter, stopping beside Hongjoong’s form.

“Depends on who’s asking.” Hongjoong offers a shrug and swirls his drink around a bit, watching the golden liquor inside jostle. “And it seems like some morally right asshole is asking me now.”

Seonghwa pushes his shoulders back a bit and frowns at the man before him.

“I ask that you give me a chance.”

“Then prove yourself. Are you truly prepared to do whatever it takes to be a pirate? Especially one on my crew? If you know how to shoot a gun properly and could kill an innocent with no qualms, then I suppose you could join the crew.”

Seonghwa moves in a flash. His hand snatches up the pistol on Hongjoong’s left leg and lifts it to the young captain’s temple, pressing the cool barrel against his skin without a drop of hesitation.

“I asked for an innocent, and I am anything but that.”

Seonghwa’s arm shifts to point the gun at the bartender across from Hongjoong, and he doesn’t even blink before firing the gun just to the left of the man’s head. The din in the bar falls to a hush at that, all eyes moving to where Seonghwa stands and where the bartender has now fallen to the ground in a state of shock. An airy laugh leaves Hongjoong’s lips, and his head tilts back in amusement.

“You’re hired. Here, old man, some extra credits for your troubles as well as another drink for my new companion here.” Hongjoong slips a credit chip across the counter, eyeing the bartender with wary eyes as he pulls himself back to his feet. The din behind them picks up once more without any issue. “What’s your name and age? You hardly look older than me.”

“Um, Park Seonghwa, sixteen.”

“Kim Hongjoong, sixteen.”

“Aren’t you a bit young to be a pirate captain?” Seonghwa asks, head falling to the side in curiosity. Hongjoong pushes himself to his feet and steps around his barstool. He stands far shorter than Seonghwa, but that doesn’t seem to faze him in the slightest as he crowds Seonghwa against the counter. The taller boy grabs the wood and leans back over it to put some distance between him in Hongjoong, inhaling sharply as the other pushes further in. Hongjoong’s hands fall on either side of Seonghwa’s and effectively pin him to the counter. Seonghwa has to tilt his head down to see Hongjoong properly, eyes wobbling as one corner of Hongjoong’s lips twists upwards.

“Are we going to have a problem with authority, Seonghwa?” The words are like honey on Hongjoong’s tongue. The taller simply gives a sharp shake of his head. Hongjoong hums to himself, tongue peeking out to drag over the front of his teeth. “I think we’ll get along quite nicely then.” Hongjoong leaves him with one more cruel smirk before pulling back completely and returning to his seat. He motions to the empty space beside him, which Seonghwa fills almost immediately. The bartender returns at that moment, setting new drinks on the counter with a hushed whisper.

“Keep mum about the alcohol, I can’t be going out of business now.”

Hongjoong just smiles and flicks another credit chip over to the man, then raises his glass to Seonghwa.

“To a new partnership.”

“Cheers,” Seonghwa echoes in a mumble, mirroring Hongjoong’s motion.

The man at your side cracks the slightest of smiles.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

You hardly realize how lost in the memory you are until something resounds behind you, almost like a voice crying your name in the darkness behind that door, and you don’t pay the man at your side any notice before turning to face the wood. It’s clearer now, the voices behind it, the soft mumblings that blossom into something loud and bright, and once you realize who those voices belong to, you waste no time in grabbing the handle and pushing your way into the memory. Seonghwa must notice your movements because he follows close at your heels, although this time it isn’t one of his memories that you step into. It’s something different, something you can’t quite recall but you recognize the faces strewn throughout the room nonetheless.

You’re suddenly back on Eros, home with your unit, all of them except for Hyunwoo. Jisung stands over a table that is littered with maps and old papers as the others stand around him.

“Why are you leading this when it’s not your place, Jisung?” Juyeon is the one to pose the question, and you can’t keep from just staring at his features to drink in the sight of him since it’s been so long since you last saw him before you like this. “We all agreed to appoint Hyunwoo as leader, even you.”

“Hyunwoo isn’t here, is he?” Jisung snarls, reeling on his friend with a fire in his eyes. “He’s off mooching with the generals because they love him so fucking much! He doesn’t have to worry like the rest of us do; he’s no pathetic runt like the rest of us are.”

“Careful there, Jisung,” Soojin scoffs from Juyeon’s side. Her hair is just as bright and daring as you remember, a stark red that stands out against her skin and accentuates that natural beauty she always held. “That’s your inferiority complex slipping through.”

“What she means is — listen, Sung, I know you want to get this done, but we can’t make plans without Hyunwoo. And frankly… no one is going to follow you.” Juyeon exchanges a quick glance with the woman at his side, then another with the youngest of your troupe, Ash. “Let’s call it a night and wait for Hyunwoo to come back.”

Jisung doesn’t get to speak another word. Juyeon leads the way out of the room, disappearing into the darkness along with Soojin and Ash, and suddenly it’s like you and Seonghwa are left alone with just this weird figment of Jisung. A noise echoes from the corner. You shift to find the source, but when you do, your throat closes in on itself. It’s you. Some version of you, at least, one that you can’t even recognize well because of how young you seem to be. Wide, doe eyes that hold no hurt in them, features not marred by the harshness of your life that followed. Even if you don’t recognize this memory, you know for certain it isn’t one that happened after the ordeal with Hyunwoo and the king.

“You aren’t allowed to leave,” Jisung mutters, barely sparing your younger form a glance. “You can’t leave, Y/N. Out of all people, you have the least right to walk out that door. You’re just like me, just a runt who isn’t good for anything. The two of us need to stick together.”

“What’s the plan then?” She asks, and Jisung grins back at the girl.

“I’ll explain everything.”

“T-This isn’t right,” you choke out, reaching for Seonghwa’s arm. “This never happened. I don’t — I don’t remember this at all.” An odd sense of impending doom overwhelms you as you watch yourself approach the table beside Jisung, and you decide right then that you cannot handle being in this place any longer. You stumble backward, hand hitting the door hard and shoving against it in a desperate attempt to get out of the room.

The new scene you find isn’t any better than the last. Jisung sits in the middle of a monotone room, arms and legs bound to the chair under him. Some tall old man stands in front of his chair and Hyunwoo is at his side, looking as alive as can be, so much so that you choke on air and fall to your knees in an instant. Seonghwa’s hand finds your shoulder and clasps at it to offer some sort of comfort. In the corner opposite where you’re kneeling, the younger version of you is drawn tight into a ball with arms folded around her knees. Hyunwoo pulls away from the man beside him to come closer to the young girl – you, the innocent and young you who didn’t know how cruel the world could be at that point.

“Don’t watch this, Y/N,” Hyunwoo says as he folds an arm around her shoulders.

“Why is this happening? What’s going on? Hyun, I don’t understand why – why is he being punished?”

“Jisung was out of line. He… killed fourteen people. That wasn’t the mission, the mission wasn’t to kill anyone. It was just a simple recon mission. No one was supposed to die, especially not innocent people.”

“And why then are fourteen people dead?” The old man asks. The question is obviously directed at Jisung, but all he offers in response is to spit on the general’s feet with a sneer. The man swings his foot up, catching Jisung in the chin with a sharp kick that sends the younger sprawling across the floor in his chair.

“I did nothing wrong! All I did was get rid of more competition that would stop us later on. People are afraid of us now. Our team is gaining a name for ourselves at last, and you fat fucks in power feel just as threatened as the rest of society, don’t you? We’re fearsome now. Ruthless, bloodthirsty, cruel. That’s what we’re known for.”

The old man presses his foot down hard on the side of Jisung’s face and leans over his body.

“That isn’t what you’re supposed to be known for. You are part of the military. You are supposed to obey the law and uphold the rules like everyone else. Not murder innocent people who weren’t even in the crossfire!”

Jisung’s eyes blaze with unbridled rage, bringing a bit of a crazed gleam to his dark orbs.

“They called Y/N a runt! A useless slave! I’m supposed to sit back and allow that disrespect to happen? They had to pay for their crimes! They were far from innocent.”

You turn to Seonghwa, desperate for him to help you to your feet and get you out of this hell, but as you move, his face bleeds to white. Next thing you know, the ground disappears out from under you and you enter a freefall. A brilliant blood-red moon shines above you, taunting you with its glow as you drop, and it grows smaller and smaller the further down you fall. Your freefall only stops when you collide harshly with a body of water, and the black waters swallow you up and pull you under with no resistance. You thrash against the darkness, fighting your way to swim back up to the surface, but it’s to no avail because you can’t move. Something constricts your throat, chokes the air out of your lungs, and you watch helplessly as air bubbles float up to the surface without you.

Something sharp closes around your ankle. Looking down offers no help because of how dark the waters are. You have no time to tug away from it before it pulls you down further, and the red light of the moon grows fainter and fainter with each passing second. As a last-ditch effort, you push all the air in your lungs into a scream that rings through the water. And that must do the trick, because as the sound pulses through the lake, something blindingly bright appears above you like a small beacon of hope in the night. It grows larger as it swims closer to where you continue to sink, and just as it starts coming into focus, whatever has a hold on your foot lets go of you as though burned. Hands wade through the murk to cradle your face, soft thumbs combing over your cheeks, and the light dulls just enough for you to see the face of your savior.

And when you do, your heart nearly quits functioning right then and there because it’s none other than Wooyoung who floats above you, hair bright and glowing a soft lavender around his head. His cheeks are puffed full of air and his eyes are so wide that they look like round gems in the glittering light. He doesn’t speak, nor does he give you any indication whatsoever of what is going on; all the man does is slip his hands lower to fold around your waist before he begins to swim back up to the surface. The lack of air in your system has you reeling and dizzy, along with the overwhelming confusion that radiates through your body as well.

When the two of you finally breach the surface of the water, you are close to losing consciousness. The sudden intake of fresh oxygen keeps you conscious for now, and you let your body go completely limp in Wooyoung’s grasp as he pulls you to the edge of the water. The light from his hair fades back into a muted black, wet strands clinging to his forehead and neck. You only bring yourself to use your muscles again once you reach the shallows, knees coming to rest on the sand so you can sit up straight and face the man. He doesn’t wait even a second before clasping your face in his hands again.

“I know you,” he chokes out, voice too thick with emotion for your liking. The statement is startling enough as it is, although you have a sneaking suspicion that he doesn’t merely mean he knows you as Y/N L/N. “The girl who appeared in my dreams for years. The – the one I couldn’t reach. I can finally see you. Y/N, I…”

“Wooyoung has had an incessant dream for years now — all the years I’ve known him actually — of a girl drowning in a black lake. He watches her head go underwater but can’t make out her features well enough to recognize her. He dives in to save her, swims to grab her, does everything he can to save him, but something always pulls her deeper and deeper. He can never reach her. He can never hear her screams. He can never see her face. All he can do is reach out for her hand and that’s it.”

“I finally found you, Umiko.” Something about the way Wooyoung speaks and the glistening tears in his eyes brings you to tears yourself, a choked sob forcing its way out of your mouth for some reason unbeknownst to you. The moment leaves too soon.

A hand grasps your shoulder and yanks you back before you know it, tearing you away from Wooyoung’s grasp. Your attacker solidifies it with a kick to the center of your chest, and you slam back against the shallows. Daichi stands above you, a rage to his aura that you have never felt before. That’s all the warning you get from him. He swings his foot back down at your head this time, and you roll away from the attack only to be swung at by his fist.

“Why are you doing this?” You yell as you dodge the powerful attacks as best you can.

“Tsukio is the Siren I warned you about, you fool!” Daichi shouts back, heel clipping the edge of your shoulder. The comment puts enough confusion in you for him to gain the upper hand, and he hits the side of your head with the back of his hand. “Do you not remember? ‘Someone near you is a dangerous threat, one that you’ve never encountered before. You must be careful. Guard yourself wisely.’”

Daichi pushes you flat against the sand and clasps his hands around the middle of your throat.

“Tsukio can find you anywhere, even while far away! This mental connection you share, this link — the two of you are a dyad, a yin and a yang, a pair that cannot be severed. No matter how far apart you are, the two of you will always be able to come back to each other.”

“Come – come back? W-What do you mean?” The pressure around your throat increases just enough for you to cough, but you continue to push words out of your mouth like your life depends on it. “Did I know him before? Did I know Wooyoung somehow? That d-dream. Was it truly a dream or w-was it a memory?”

“I’ve always told you that you were something unique and special, Umiko.” Daichi squeezes harder, and black spots fill the edges of your vision. “You assumed I meant that it was your identity as a Siren and were too bitter to listen to anything I told you. Both you and Kazuya should not pry for more answers. I will tell you absolutely nothing.” With that, Daichi pushes your head under the water, and it’s just deep enough for you to not be able to breathe. “Consider this to be your one and only warning, Umiko. Next time, I will end you.”

You jolt back into a state of full consciousness by choking on air and throwing your body upright. The room swirls for several seconds before coming into focus, and you find yourself seated on the floor beside Seonghwa’s bed with no recollection of falling off at any point. There is a body in front of you and another on your left side, but their faces don’t process in your mind until you’ve caught your breath a bit. It’s Jongho at your side, who presses a hand to your sweat-slick forehead with so much concern in his eyes that it’s overwhelming, and Yunho is knelt by your feet with a similar expression of concern.

“Wh-Why are you here?” You ask, throat burning from the few words. Yunho glances over at Jongho, and the pair exchange unspoken words in their eyes.

“You pinged all our wristbands, Y/N. Called through the comms and said you needed help and that Seonghwa wouldn’t wake up,” Yunho murmurs.

“Where? Where is Seonghwa?”  Yunho motions towards the bed on your right, and you peer over the mattress to find Seonghwa sitting at the opposite edge of the bed with his head in his hands and elbows propped on his knees. Yeosang is in front of him, squatted to be eye level with the man, and he rests a hand atop one of Seonghwa’s knees.

“Seonghwa… when we came in, his body was in a state of shock, and his heart w-wasn’t — he was completely unresponsive. I almost couldn’t get him awake at all. On top of everything else we’re dealing with, why does this have to happen too?” Yunho drops his chin and exhales a shaky laugh. It’s a haunting reality that Seonghwa almost died in his sleep because of Daichi and his warning, but nothing ever felt quite as real as it did this time. “This must be some sort of bad omen.”

Yunho drops a hand to your leg before pushing himself to his feet. He steps around the bed and makes a beeline for Seonghwa now, leaving you in Jongho’s care for the time being.

“What the hell happened?” Jongho asks once Yunho is out of earshot.

“I… it was – just a bad nightmare.” You can’t look Jongho in the eye when you speak the lie, too ashamed to even be lying in the first place, and it’s only when your gaze wanders around the room a bit that you realize one person in particular isn’t present. “Where’s Jisung?”

“We saw him to a spare bedroom after dinner, so I’d assume he must still be in there.”

“He didn’t come out with the commotion?”

“What could he do even if he did?” Jongho shrugs a bit and lets his hand drop to your shoulder. He makes a good point in his statement, and it’s enough to shut you up and not prod the subject further.

“I need Seonghwa to the medbay with me so I can run some sleep tests and make sure everything is normal in the brain and heart,” Yunho states, peeking over to where you and Jongho are still seated. “Y/N, I’m a bit concerned about you not remembering calling for help, so I’d like you to—”

“No,” you interject, swallowing roughly. Yeosang looks at you over Seonghwa’s shoulder, and your eyes meet for the briefest of moments. He inclines his chin a bit as though trying to tell you something, but you can’t decipher what the hell he’s trying to say in the slightest.

“Jongho, you help Seonghwa to the medbay with Yunho. I’ll stay with Y/N for the time being.” Yeosang’s suggestion seems to catch everyone off-guard, including you, but based on the look in his eyes, there’s something else going on so you can’t find it in you to fight it. Jongho glances down at you.

“Is that – will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Jongho, I promise,” you murmur back, placing a hand over where his rests on your shoulder. “Go with Seonghwa and make sure he’s okay first. I just feel exhausted right now honestly.”

“Okay, if you need anything—”

“I’ll call you, Jongho. Okay?” You press a weak smile onto your lips. The Berserker seems content enough with your words, and he helps you to your feet before stepping around the bed to do the same for Seonghwa. You sink back onto the mattress almost immediately, watching with a heavy heart as Jongho loops Seonghwa’s arm around his shoulders and helps carry the man out of the room. You wait to speak again until after the door slips shut and leave you alone with Yeosang. “What happened?”

“You didn’t call the others right away,” he says, tone so quiet you have to lean in to catch it. “Wooyoung called me asking for help.”

“Wooyoung — he what? In m-my body?”

“Yes, I thought – I thought it was a joke at first but he confirmed it was him, so I came over as quickly as I could. He said that you were crying out for his help so loudly that he passed out to come to you. Did you go to his body?”

“I was unconscious the entire time. But Wooyoung… he came to me in my dream.”

“Wooyoung was brief in his explanation to me, but he seems to think that it can only happen when one of you needs help too. He only heard you when you needed him, and he said that just before you came to him the first time in the cell… he was crying out for some sort of help. Then you showed up.”

“No, I don’t mean that he came to my body in my dream,” you say as you push yourself further onto the bed and face Yeosang head-on. “I was drowning in a black lake, and Wooyoung saved me.”

“His dream?” Yeosang’s expression melts into one of shock. He draws his lips into a tight ‘o’ then stares down at the floor. “He mentioned finding someone. He kept ranting on and on about how he finally found her. I was trying to get him to focus on the issue at hand, but he just wanted to talk about that.”

“But he didn’t wake me up. How did he help then?” Perhaps he was trying to pull you out of the dream before Daichi interrupted. But Wooyoung couldn’t have possibly been in your body at the same time that he was in your dream, so it must have happened after Daichi attacked you since Yeosang said Wooyoung mentioned finding you.

“It wasn’t about helping you, Y/N,” Yeosang whispers. He glances down at the spot where Seonghwa was just seated. “You asked him to help you save Seonghwa.” It hits then that as you were fighting for your life between drowning in a lake without relief and being attacked by Daichi, your subconscious was only worried about whether Seonghwa was okay or not. “He had to take control to call for help, but before he called me, he pulled Seonghwa’s body out of shock at least enough to get his heart going again. He stalled the shock long enough to get Yunho over here after talking to me first. He called the rest through your wristband after. Something must have happened on his end though because as soon as he finished speaking, your body dropped and went unconscious again.”

“Did Seonghwa mention what he saw?” You inquire, but a large part of you is too afraid to hear the answer.

“You weren’t with him?”

“We… were separated at some point.”

“He didn’t say anything about what he saw, but he was too shaken up to even speak. One would think that based on the visceral reaction his body had, it was something far beyond his worst nightmare.” Your body moves before your mind does, and you are suddenly on your feet again upon hearing Yeosang’s words. He regards you with a puzzled stare for a moment, eyes watching you move around the bed and to the door on unsteady feet. “Where are you going?”

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

✧✧✧ a/n: hi hi HI guess WHO yeah its me its been a minute im SORRY this chapter just did not want to cooperate no matter what every time i sat down to write until today it was like No. but then i hit my stride and wrote like 6k today oopsie anyway hi info dump im so sorry about how much info there is in this one and sldfjlsdkf there’s a lot of backstory and symbolism and im afraid it’s a Mess but it iz what it iz so we’re rolling with it and im kinda delirious so that’s All i’ll say so yeehaw let me know how you feel what you think i love u all!

taglist: @faeriewoobin​​ @sugarrimajins​​ @atinyinwonderland​​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon​ @sparklychangbin​​ @jeong-uwu​​ @jeonartemis​​ @anothershorthuman​​ @xxbluestrifexx​​​ @haotheheckk​​ @noonawriter​​ @lostscenarios​​ @nlost21​​ @mirror-juliet​​ @okokokok123-45​ @purple-aeon​ @theoinkypiglet​ @toothlessshiber​ @atinyarmyx1​ @simpforhyunjin​ @hwangwoosan​ @vampire-jimin​ @softyubi​ @drumboydowoon​ @chatsgotmytongue​ @just-a-starfruit​ @babydolljo​ @scintillating-souls​ @khjssss @felixity​ @rawrrainn​ @hewwo-from-the-other-side​

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mists of celeste #mingi x reader #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #san x reader #wooyoung x reader #yunho x reader #ateez angst fluff smut #ateez series #ateez pirates #ateez space pirates

[reliciron]

Decided to write out the important bit of my jedi consular’s backstory. 

It should be noted that he doesn’t technically want to die, he’s just very scared of his master and doesn’t see any way to escape. 

That said, at the end of the day he does try (and fail) to die by throwing himself at some jedi, so please don’t read if you’re uncomfortable with that.

Go to the northern reaches of Brentaal IV. There you will find a small Jedi temple: the place where Grand Master Satele Shan first trained.

It has enjoyed relative anonymity since, but this must change.

Infiltrate the temple. Slaughter everyone within. Show the Jedi that nothing is safe from the Sith.

Do this, my clever acolyte, and I will raise you from the shadows.

You will be my apprentice.

Dust kicks up as he races across the northern plateaus on his stolen speeder bike. It will take hours to track properly, with the damage he left behind. But by then he’ll have either completed his mission…

Or he’d be dead.

He clenches his teeth.

She was mad. She HAD to be.

No.

He shakes his head.

No. His master is many things, but not mad.

Just calculating. And he may be a mere acolyte, but he hadn’t survived this long without learning some of the game.

If her words were true, the Sith would send a platoon, or at least a full squad. Make a show of the massacre to demoralize the Republic and Jedi Order both.

One lone acolyte would not be enough to guarantee victory. Indeed, it was very likely that he would not survive the attempt at all, even with 6 years of careful training from his master.

He’d been her faithful servant. Her knife in the dark. She’d liberated him from Rattatak and kindly taken him under her wing as a boy. He’d learned to wear the Force like a shroud. Hide himself from sight and strike from the shadows.

She gave the word, and he carried out the sentence. A name, a picture, a place, and they’d be dead in a matter of days.

He couldn’t be her apprentice. No matter his talent, he was Rattataki. And as far as the anyone else knew, he didn’t exist.

He KNEW this. She’d said it so many times. But now she was offering it to him.

It wasn’t real.

And the impossibility of the task only affirmed his suspicions.

He was not MEANT to succeed.

He did not exist, yet as more Sith and Imperials fell before him it became harder and harder to keep his existence secret. And she would never let him go, not when he knew so much of her secrets.

He was a liability now. One she hoped would take care of itself in a pointless attack on a temple.

He should run. He SHOULD, but he CAN’T.

His throat goes tight and he slows down a bit as the temple’s coordinates loom on the navigation computer.

He’d tried to run once, before he’d truly understood how much of a PRIVILEGE it was to have been chosen by his mistress. He couldn’t recall the ‘how’s and ‘why’s anymore, but he remembered the punishment had gone on for well over a week.

Run and I’ll find you, little one. And I will not be so merciful the next time.

If he tries to abandon his duty, he’d die all the same, but she’d make sure to make it hurt. At least the Jedi would make it quick.

Yes.

If its one thing the soft-hearted fools abhorred, it was making a being suffer.

There was no way out for him, but an end by their sabers would be better than by her hand.

–

It had been laughably easy to enter the temple. The roomy interior had given him plenty of space to cloak himself and slip through without being noticed by the guardians. He’d made it all the way into the empty training room, where he’d entered a vent near the ceiling and used it to gain access to the meeting room.

Inside there were a handful of masters and their attending padawans, likely a collection of the strongest jedi in the temple. An incredibly foolish target.

But that was the point, wasn’t it.

He could have killed a great many by now. Picked off padawans one by one has he slithered through the building. Had he actually believed the lie his master had told him, he would have.

But he didn’t. And now these Jedi were his best chance for a swift end.

As he grips his lightsaber, he wonders, not for the first time, what his mother would have thought of him. He didn’t remember her, or much of Rattatak for that matter. But he hoped he’d grown to be a strong son, one who might have made her proud, had things been different.

He muffles the sound of the grate being opened, curls his toes over the edge of the vent frame, and leaps.

–

The creature had seemed to come from thin air.

A calm discussion with his fellow masters about possible changes to the curriculum one minute, and a whirl of dark robes and red light the next.

By the time he and the others managed to pull their lightsabers, 3 padawans lay crumpled on the floor with the attacker ready to strike again.

The battle had been vicious.

Master Evren nearly had a leg taken off, and Knight Balrus fell in a burst of lightning before Ixal finally got in under its guard to slice up through it’s hood.

It screamed, bringing its saber up in mindless defense as it clutched its smoking face, but it was a futile effort. He followed through, ducking its arm and spinning around behind to carve his saber deep across it’s back.

It folded like a house of cards, crashing to the floor in a heap of dark robes.

Not dead, but also not getting up any time soon.

Healers and medical droids are called, and to everyone’s relief no one was killed. But it still left them with a host of very injured jedi, and a deeply wounded assailant who should have never made it this far.

–

Once the others have been seen to, he and the few other jedi of rank gather in the assassin’s room.

The scans the droids provided them with were both enlightening… and disturbing.

A juvenile rattataki male, approximately16 years of age. Signs of extensive, long-term electrical trauma, 18 healed fractures, and general malnutrition. And that was all underneath the damage he himself had caused in the battle. Evidently he’d blinded the man - no, boy - in one eye, and his final strike had severed his spine. He was now paralyzed from the waist down.

Stars above.

It’s about an hour more before the boy comes to, numbed heavily around his injuries but not sedated.

They needed to speak with him, and it absolutely could not wait.

Even so, none of them are prepared for the tsunami of terror that all but knocks them off their feet.

He chokes and tugs desperately at his restraints, every inch a panicked child despite the destruction he’d wrought only a few hours ago.

It makes his stomach roil to know he’d not fought a man, but a boy.

“Peace, young one,” he says softly. And the single remaining eye fixes upon him.

A muscle jumps in the rattataki’s jaw before his face goes eerily blank, at odds with the fear still saturating the Force around them.

“My name is Master Ixal. I’m afraid you’ve committed some rather serious crimes here today, but I would like to talk, if you wouldn’t mind.” When all the boy does is stare at him, he smiles, “May I ask your name?”

There’s a long stretch of silence before the answer.

“Acolyte.”

His accent is Kaas-ian, but given that he’s an alien, there’s a very good chance that he was a slave.

“Is that your name, or the one you were given?”

He blinks, as if trying to parse the meaning.

“Did you ever have a different name?”

Something small and fragile flickers across the part of his face that is still visible.

“…. Faun.”

He sighs. Good. Not so far gone that he won’t answer questions entirely, “Faun then. Can you tell me why you’re here?”

“My master sent me.”

A sith then. Were they truly so desperate as to use children?

“They sent you to attack us?”

His eye closes and he seems resigned.

“Yes.”

“Who sent you? Are there more coming? Why is the temple being targ-?”

“It doesn’t matter, kill me and be done with it.”

“What-?”

“I killed your people and infiltrated your temple, is that not enough?!”

He seems desperate then, like a frightened animal, and the fear redoubles in the Force.

“Easy now,” he assures, “You killed no one, all those who were injured survived.” He frowns, “And you will not die for it. We certainly won’t be letting you go, but you will live and be treated fairly. But I can promise you, the more you help us now, the easier things will go for you in the future.”

Instead of being assured, the young man barks a harsh, bitter laugh.

“What, future?! I failed to die! Now my master will come for me to correct my failure!” He positively whimpers and shrinks in on himself, “She’ll be so angry! She’ll make it hurt! Why can’t you just kill me!”

They’re all taken aback by the outburst, but as his words start to sink in a sick feeling begins to settle in to Ixal’s stomach.

“What do you mean you ‘failed to die’?”

“You think I am a fool?!” he spits. “What else am I to believe when she gives me such an impossible task and promises rewards I knew could never be!” He sags onto the hospital bed. “I do not exist. She cannot allow me to be tied to her, and I was no longer worth the risk.”

He truly feared this master of his so much that he would willingly undertake a suicide mission? Stars above, what had this woman done to him?!

He shakes his head. They knew the why now, but not the how.

“How did you manage to make it all the way into the meeting room? You would have had to pass several guardians.”

The boy huffs, voice still raw and wavering, but evening out as they entered more neutral territory. “Your security is poor and my master trained me well. I cloaked myself in the Force, muffled my presence, and walked right passed them.”

A hint of pride threads through the fear in the air, but already a few of their number have left, unable to take such overpowering emotions.

Cloaking is a rare gift. That this young man is capable of doing so, well enough to fool full fledged jedi, is both dangerous and intriguing. Between that, his combat ability, and the hyper-projection of his emotions, they were dealing with a powerful force user, no matter his age.

It only occurs to him now that the young rattataki could have likely killed dozens of padawans and younglings before being discovered.

But he didn’t.

An idea starts to form but he’d need to consult his fellow masters first.

“Thank you, Faun, you’ve been very helpful. Please rest for now. We will speak again later.”

The boy looks wary as they leave, but more than likely the sedatives are already being administered through his drip. He won’t be conscious for much longer.

–

The discussion is heated, with several knights and masters arguing against it, but after consulting the Jedi Council, they finally come to an agreement.

They would attempt to rehabilitate Faun.

Turning a sith was notoriously difficult, but his youth would work in their favor.

The skills of an assassin, Force-cloaking especially, where nearly impossible to teach to jedi. Too close to the dark side for many to want to risk learning. But as much as they may wish otherwise, sometimes those skills were needed, and if they could earn Faun’s loyalty they’d have an invaluable ally.

It would be a long and delicate process. Mind healers would be needed to try and break the chains his master had instilled in his mind, and the physical reconstruction and recovery would be just as taxing.

There was no guarantee that it would work at all, but he genuinely believed it was worth a try.

The poor boy had been through so much. With a bit of work they might give him a second chance at a fulfilling life.

Dark-side or no, the Force practically hummed around him in a way Ixal had not seen since young Satele. He didn’t know what part this young man might play, but he had a feeling he may yet prove essential in the future.

This would not be the end the young man had sought, but a new beginning.

======

From there it takes a long time to deprogram him, and they need to install several internal cybernetic bypasses in his spine to get around the damage. At the end of it, he’s got a pretty serious scar that runs from right shoulder to left hip, a few numb patches on his lower back, and his eye is still blinded. He learns to hide his accent, too. And he’s somewhere in his late 20s-early 30s by the time the game starts.

He was sent to Tython as a fresh start for his padawan training, since no one there would know who he was, aside from the Council.

His companions don’t find out until they’re fighting the First Son and Syo tells them to try and get them to leave or turn on Faun. Zenith almost does leave afterwards, but after a long discussion they all stick with him.

#swtor #jedi consular #character backstory #sith acolyte #he was kidnapped from rattatak and enslaved i just was trying to put it through the lens of what a brainwashed person would see it as #satele shan DOES come from brentaal 4 but everything else is completely made up #so if there is actual information from her backstory that contradicts this then *shugs* whoopsies #tw: suicidal thoughts #sort of

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “What Death Tastes Like” Part 3

Scarecrow’s daughter might be only 22, yet the terminal lung cancer she was diagnosed with six months ago didn’t discriminate against her age; the young woman didn’t show worrisome symptoms until it was too late. Y/N always had a fascination for the much older King of Gotham and despite the consequences, maybe it’s finally time to do something about it.

Part 1      Part 2       Part 4       Part 5

You’re done sampling the food that J brought over, quite annoyed he lied about the crepes; it was probably the only reason why you opened the door for him. Or maybe it was a different motive that you don’t like to think of because… what’s the point anyway?

“Crane said he added a new ingredient to your capsules,” The Joker brings it up. “I have no idea how he was able to get Cromyxillium since it’s just in experimental phase; I suppose he has awesome connections,” your guest chews one last bite of cashew salad.

“I know, he texted me but I didn’t answer back… I’m mad at him… I’m mad at everything these days,“ you admit and The King of Gotham piles up the empty styrofoam boxes, calculating how much money Scarecrow spent on a product that might be able to improve your condition.

Y/N watches him absent minded, too preoccupied with her problems to realize The King of Gotham is attentive to her words.

“I used to help my dad develop my remedy, still nothing works and he entirely immersed himself in this ridiculous task of saving me from terminal cancer. He ignored Evelyn for weeks until she left: she understood what he was doing up to a certain level; when it became an obsession…” and you sigh, aggravated by your father’s stubbornness. “I told him he has to patch up their relationship; I don’t him to be all alone after I’m gone…” you sulk and J grabs the containers, dumping them in the trashcan near the table.

“Yeah, Crane will probably be very lonely without you…” and J stops his innuendo when he comprehends how it sounds. “On a positive note,” The Clown Prince of Crime stretches, “I’m actually here to ensure you’re ok taking the capsules containing the new ingredient. Your father asked me to and I am notorious for being this…this selfless person ready to offer my services,” J over exaggerates his ability to sympathize with your situation. “He also warned me not to try anything funny. I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to share any of my funny jokes; doesn’t make any sense,” the distorted interpretation of your parent’s threat almost prompts Y/N’s smile.

“You probably pushed for this visit, taking advantage of the fact that me and my dad had a fight, hm?” you bluntly describe the truth and J can’t defend his absurd statements because your cell phone starts ringing; you glare at the screen, debating if you should answer or not.

“Is that him?” The Joker inquires and you nod a yes while deciding to accept Scarecrow’s call.

“Hello…” you sneak out on the patio as J figures he should walk to his car in order to retrieve the duffel bag fixed in advance for his sleepover.

*****************

Your conversation lasted for about 20 minutes thus The Joker jumped in the shower lacking any type of permission from Y/N; perhaps it could be the reason for your abrupt intrusion in the cozy bathroom.

“Can I take a shower with you?” he hears your question and for once J is uncertain of his reply, yet he is not the kind of person to show reluctance no matter the context.

“It’s your place, isn’t it?” he grumbles and distinguishes your silhouette beyond the steamy glass panels quickly stripping your clothes.

The Joker continues to scrub his skin, undisturbed by your request: he simply doesn’t care if you join him or not.

“I’m using your stuff,” J announces and your arms suddenly hug him from behind.

“You can use whatever you want,” your lips kiss the dragon tattoo on his back a couple of times and he doesn’t even turn around to peek.

“I gotta wash my hair,” he mutters and you brush your lips against his shoulder, sweetly offering:

“I can wash it for you.”

“I got it!” Y/N’s demand is cut off immediately; you’re so humiliated by his lack of interest you curse the dumb choice of being so straightforward: it’s not the first time he shows zero attraction towards his daughter’s best friend.

Your arms release the embrace and The Joker reprises his important chore while hearing you fumbling with toiletry items: you are finishing off your routine at an increased speed, willing to exit out of there as soon as possible.

A few minutes of silence, then The Clown Prince of Crime finally pronounces an insolent remark:

“I hope you saw a naked man before, Y/N! I don’t wanna be accused of traumatizing you. If it really makes you feel better, you can wash my hair.”

No smarty pants attitude rendered upon him and J gazes where you stood only to notice you’re gone: after quietly tiptoeing out of the shower, Y/N took her medications and prepared for the night ahead; she plans for J to sleep in the second bedroom at the small cabin, thus she will spend the night on the couch in the living room, watching TV until she’ll doze off.

“Miss Crane,” The Joker emerges from the bathroom in a t-shirt and shorts. “Are we cuddling on that couch or do we have further arrangements?”

“Spare bedroom,” you grouchily mumble, getting comfortable under the blanket.

“I thought we’re cuddling buddies,” he pretends to be offended at your affirmation mostly since pushing the limit is encoded in his wretched DNA.

“We’re not cuddling buddies!”  

“My bad,” he grins. “I guess I was misled by your actions at the mansion.”

He has such a nerve bringing that up!

“I’m not the type of person to force myself on women,” The Joker innocently informs, “but can I watch TV with you? I’ll camp on the floor by the sofa which is my way to hint I need a bunch of soft blankets to pile up so I won’t break my back. I mean, it’s not very nice of you to deny me access on the couch; must I remind you I granted you free passage in my bed when you asked for it?”

“Are you for reals?!” an increasingly fuming Y/N shrieks slowly rolls out of her relaxing nest. “You were horrible to me and then tried to make it better just because you worried I’d tell Emma or my father! Well, rest assured: I’m not a snitch! You truly don’t have to extend your good will to such lengths on my account! It’s not necessary, ok?! You don’t have to drive here to bring my capsules, you don’t have to bring me food. You don’t have to do anything!!”

“Watch your tone!” J growls, displeased with your feisty attitude. “Do I have to remind you who barged into my privacy to take a peek at me naked?”

Your eyes are big at his derogatory insinuation: he’s playing stupid regarding the incident.

“I barged into your privacy?!” you shout, aggravated. “How can…”

“Umm…” The Joker interrupts, “…your nose is bleeding.”

You didn’t even detect the blood trickling down your skin and you touch it, confused. The King of Gotham watches you a few hesitant steps before you unexpectedly collapse to the ground. “Hey!” his voice echoes in and out. “Hey what’s wrong?... … Can you hear me?”

There’s this high pitch taking over your mind and you can barely discern bits and pieces of a conversation J is carrying with your father. You’re not even aware you’re in a moving vehicle, that’s how much you lost grip on reality.

“What’s in for me if I bring her over, huh?”

“I compensated you!!  Two Nightmare ampoules, a small fortune on the black market! Get off your fucking high horse and bring me my daughter, would you?!” an exasperated parent admonishes.

“Maybe I will stop the car and let nature follow its course,” The Joker fights back Scarecrow’s affront, yet your dad has plenty on his plate .

“If you do such a thing and she dies, I’ll hold you responsible and trust me when I say you don’t want me to hold you responsible!!!” the serious ultimatum prompts your chauffeur to take a sharp turn on Highway 68. “Am I on speaker?” Jonathan checks without given his apparent opponent a chance to rationalize his behavior.

“Yes!” J snarls, pissed at the stupid rescue mission entrusted to him.

“Y/N, hang in there! I’ll get stuff ready by the time you arrive, alright?” Scarecrow encourages his daughter, afraid of the severe consequences of the experimental drug she ingested.  

“Mmmm,” you moan in your daze, not being able to respond.

“Keep her alert; we can’t have her sink into a coma! I have to formulate an IV mixture to flush the Cromyxillium out of her system!”

“She’s completely out!” The Joker states although there’s nobody at the other end of the line anymore. “Who’s we anyway?!” he huffs and elects to give it a go regardless. “Y/N, how many kids we would have had if we were married?... … … … … I think the precise answer is at least 4, am I correct?” J blabbers on since you don’t engage in the conversation. “Great…I’ll be held liable for your demise,” he bites his lower lip, vexed things didn’t shine too bright for him; in fact, no matter how hard The Clown tries the blame it on somebody else, he dug his own hole on this one.

****************

You’re not sure how long you’ve been in the darkness, but the sharp poke in your arm makes you groan in pain.

“I’m sorry honey,” your father whispers. “We have to keep the IV for an hour, then I can take the needle out.”

“D-daddy…” you find the strength to stammer. “Am I… am I dying…?”

“No… No… I won’t let you die…” Scarecrow kisses your forehead, upset you don’t seem fine at all. “It’s my fault, I didn’t think you’ll have a reaction to Cromyxillium, not the way I bound the particles with the rest of the molecules.”

“You didn’t test it?” The Joker intervenes into a dialogue he should steer clear off.

“No, I didn’t have time to test it!” Jonathan hatefully stares at the man he wishes to strangle on the spot. “I don’t have time for anything!! Do you understand? My daughter is dying!! I’m not even that kind of doctor yet she’s breathing nevertheless due to my capability of manipulating compounds! Y/N would be 6 feet under with traditional chemotherapy, which proves I am doing a few things right!!! If Emma was sick, I’m certain you wouldn’t run your mouth like you do now!”

J wiggles in his chair, definitely about to erupt at Crane’s justified tirade.

“I’m so cold…” you utter, the ruckus adding to your general discomfort.

“That’s normal, it means the intravenous remedy is working; I’ll bring more covers,” Jonathan strolls out of the room only to gasp upon his return: J is snuggling with you, totally oblivious to your parent’s stupefied question: “What the hell are you doing??!!”

“I got off my high horse and I’m keeping her warm,” J stresses the importance of his random deed. “It’s not cheap thought! I demand…”

“You demand nothing!” Scarecrow covers you with more layers, irritated The King of Gotham has the audacity to milk out benefits in these circumstances; the latest wants to protest Jonathan’s vehement denial while not being conceded the prospect of such luxury:

“Dad…” you reach out your left hand and he sits by you, keeping the shaky fingers on his face. “Did… did you call Evelyn?” you barely blink, exhausted from the intensive treatment.

“I will…”

“You have to; I don’t want you to end up alone… She loves you… You could have more children with her… or at least one more…”

Jonathan Crane inhales, flustered his daughter is worried about him when she should worry about herself.

“I could have more kids, but don’t you know you’re irreplaceable?” he kisses your wrist and pretends to brush off the agony building up in his heart. “Don’t cry honey,” he wipes your tears, then casually shoves The Joker’s arm since is wrapped around your waist. “Your help is no longer required,” Scarecrow hints and his advice falls on deaf ears: J has important news that might switch the balance in his favor.

“I also called Emma on my way here to report about Y/N’s ordeal; she’s cutting her trip to New York short and I received strict orders to make myself useful until her arrival. Now, unless you want to deal with another pain in the ass besides your offspring, I suggest you tolerate my presence!”

Jonathan curls up in a ball on the vacant side of your bed, relieved to see you’re napping. "I didn’t feel the urge to punch someone in ages!” he sneers.

“Likewise!” The Joker barks too from behind your shoulder. “How come she passed out again?” he switches the subject and Jonathan explains without any trace of enthusiasm.

“I included a serum that promotes nice dreams in her IV bag: she’ll be in a deep sleep and envision things she likes.”

“Oh, that’s awesome. I’m sure I’ll pop up in there then,” the excited Clown Prince of Crime emphasizes to your father’s disapproval.

“I said things she likes!”

**************

10:12am

“Hello Miss Crane,” you are greeted as you narrowly open your eyes; it takes a minute to recollect from the dizziness and confusion of last night’s episode.

“Where’s my dad?” you lick your dry lips, noticing J by the windows.

“At the lab; he’s consulting with some doctors or whatnot and left me in charge,” he effortlessly forges half a truth with half a lie.

“Where’s my phone? I want to talk to him.”

“I think I left it at the cabin, I was in a hurry to get you here.”

“You drove me?...” you skeptically interrogate.

“Yeah, you don’t remember?”

“No…” you stretch while touching the band aid placed where the needle used to be. “Where’s Emma?”

“On her way back to Gotham; she called several times and tried talking to you but you were out.”

“Was I?...”

“U-hum,” J shakes his head. “I reckon she promised she’ll assist with your birthday party next week and she’s terrified you’ll kick the bucket in the meantime. She didn’t precisely articulate these sentences, but I‘m her dad: I can read in between the lines,” the proud Joker blurs out, loving the shocked look you display. “Am I invited to the celebration?”

You signal a no and he’s not discouraged by your vehement denial.

“Can I bring Mara?”

“Absolutely not!!!”

“Oh, so I’m actually invited but not her?”

He takes advantage of the speechless Y/N, setting up the stage for his own benefit:

“I can work with that,” he glares at you, gratified. “However, I can’t show at a party without a date; it’s not dignifying for a man of my social status. This leaves us with only one solution.”

“NO!” you protest because you can estimate his proposal.

“Cool, then we have a deal Miss Crane: you got yourself a date!”

“I already have a date!”

“Who?”  The Joker smirks. 

“Sam is my date for my birthday.”

“Sam as in Bane’s son?”

“Yes,” you squirm under the blankets, uneasy at the concept of having J as partner for the upcoming bash.

“Pfft,” he huffs. “That’s a huuuge load of baloney,” your own words from last night are used by the obnoxious green haired menace. “I’ll pick you up Wednesday at 3pm, ok?”

“The party is here at my house!”

“Ok, then you pick me up at 3pm.”

“I’m not picking you up!” you scoff at his nonsense.

“Damn, you’re hard to negotiate with,” The Joker scratches his chin. “Fine, I’ll bring myself here.”

You contemptuously stare at him, appalled he keeps on insisting when you declined his plan. On top of everything, the whole universe is getting the confirmation today that Jonathan Crane’s genius is frankly skipping a generation since you enunciate:

“Don’t be late!”

Also read: MASTERLIST

You can also follow me ON Ao3 and Wattpad under the same blog name: DiYunho.

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker suicide squad #the joker #jokerleto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker imagines #joker jared leto #joker suicide squad #joker x reader #dcu #mister j #Mistah J #dc #Jonathan Crane #jonathan crane x reader

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Im going to explain my personality so you can confirm or deny if im an infp 5w6. Firstly I do relate to 5s fear of being useless and incapable. I dont go out of my way to help anyone, but if someone wants me to help them, I will try to do what I can or give them advice. If im not able to help them I say something obvious/vague so it still looks like I know what im talking about. I really hate looking stupid or feeling inferior to anyone. I also hate feeling powerless.[1/8]

I feel so pathetic when I cant do anything to influence something in certain situations. I relate to 7s fear too. I hate feeling any type of negative emotion and I just want to enjoy myself and have fun. I care very much about satisfying my own desires just so I can feel better and not feel like im forcing anything on myself or doing anything unwillingly. I also hate feeling like someone is controlling me or has any power over me. I love having freedom to do whatever I feel like doing.[2/8]              

Restrictions make me angry. Im an observant person and im not great at talking to people or forming any type of relationships with anyone. Its hard for me to find people I can get along with. Im opinionated and I love sharing my perspective on things with everyone to see what they think. I enjoy making people not able to counter my points. It usually means I have evolved my way of thinking or the person wasnt very smart. Im surprisingly good at manipulating people without even realizing it.[3/8]            

           Im extremely suspicious of people so it takes me years to trust anyone. Ive been considered selfish by many people but I think its because theres no way I can possibly understand anyone besides myself. Isnt it pointless and rude to make assumptions about someone? And I would rather not risk being wrong. I am great at predicting what someone will do. With people im close with or have a good understanding of them, I know exactly what they will say and what their next actions will be.[4/8]            

           Im usually never wrong about this. I am confident in myself and I am aware of my limits. I am not afraid to confront someone if I feel like I need to to feel satisfied. I am mainly concerned about how something will benefit me or how I feel rather than how others feel. I can easily come up with a bunch of ideas or solutions in most situations. When I think of solutions I have no problem considering everything detail to find a perfect solution or offer multiple if there is nothing ideal.[5/8]            

           Im a quiet person. I am very competitive when I care about something. Winning is always important to me. I am very pessimistic because I hate disappointing myself. Id rather be surprised than disappointed. I like when things are less organized because of how interesting things can get. If I say something, Im obviously confident in the trueness of it so when someone says I am wrong I get confused/offended and panic until I can convince them I was actually right.[6/8]            

           If im wrong about something I start to question what is actually true and doubt ability to be correct. I am prideful so I hate having to accept being wrong. I seem uncaring to a lot of people but sometimes I do actually care, im just not very expressive of those feelings. I am very defensive of myself. If someone even touches me I am instantly ready to attack whoever it was, I usually dont, I prepare just in case. You never know what can happen.[7/8]        

           I can be very dramatic/panic if I feel completely hopeless which isnt very often but often enough to mention. To avoid overthinking, im impulsive when I make decisions or do something. Thinking just wastes time in some situations. I am considerate of people I care about. Im not afraid of negative things happening because they havent happened yet so why would I be worrying about it. This is a lot so I'm going to end it here. Hopefully I included all of the relevant information about myself.[8/8]            

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

Hi,

You sound like neither an INFP nor a 5 and I think you’re an ExTP 7. There is also a decent amount of contradiction in here, which may be situational but might be a sign that you need some more time to get a better understanding of your own personality (as many people do - if you’re in your teens or have low/no Fi, this is very normal).

To start off, you mention that you relate to 7 as well, and you provide considerably more evidence in favor of that - avoiding negative emotion, indulging in your desires, impulsivity, and so forth. 5 is really not indulgent nor avoidant of negative emotions, and 5s as a rule aren’t particularly good with people or manipulation either as they will almost always rather withdraw from the situation. 7′s core fear is to be trapped or deprived and unable to do what they want, and that sounds by far the most accurate. My guess is 7w8 here, and possibly with an 8 fix as well.

There is really nothing that looks like high Fi in this, to be honest. Ti is the function that tends to be motivated and excited by making other people unable to counter their points. High Ti users tend to enjoy arguments for arguments sake (vs. for a specific goal) and Ti-Fe users tend to be more interested in getting everyone’s perspective than Fi-Te users. Fi-doms are also typically not very good at manipulation; when unhealthy they tend to get invested in authenticity and thinking everyone else is fake but they don’t really need the approval of others in the same way, so there’s not that same motivation to manipulate in the first place. On a more positive note, Ti users do like problem-solving and tend to take pride in that ability.

You mentioned you’re a quiet person, but so much of this question is about interacting with other people, being somewhat confrontational, and being impulsive. Overall I think there is very prominent extroverted perceiving and better Fe than Si displayed here - the overall style seems very extroverted to me.

I could go with either Se or Ne as a lot of this was general extroverted perceiving; both can be pretty good at predicting things since Se tends to pick up on many tiny details (ESxPs are among the best at reading people) and Ne tends to think of so many possibilities that the right one is often among them; both often can come up with multiple solutions, and so on. There’s nothing that specifically points to one or the other here for me (and they can be hard to tell apart) so I’d consider your spatial awareness/reasoning and your thought processes in terms of abstract/concrete.

#mbti #enneagram #enneagram 7 #estp #entp #aaaaaaahahhaha

[glitterandmoondustofficial]

Side To Side

Chapter 193: Traps

Characters: Penguin, Shachi, Ruby Rating: T Warnings: Language Notes: ): sorry for the lack of updates, it's been crazy busy on my end

~~~~~

“This is bullshit,” Penguin said in frustration, with a little bit of fear. “My brother is dying and I can’t do shit.”

“Ruby is taking care of it,” Shachi replied. “He’ll be back on his feet by the end of the night.”

Penguin looked at his glowing captain. Law was starting to get cold and his pulse was slowing down. Penguin’s gut was twisting into knots. He hadn’t felt so hopeless since he was a teenager. It’s not that he didn’t have faith in Ruby. It’s the fact that there was nothing he could do! Law was dying in a non-medical way. There was no IV that he could use. There was no exam he could run. Law was dying because of a Devil Fruit power.

He had to put his faith in Ruby and Law. Law needed to snap out of his dream and Ruby needed to defeat that woman who did this to Law. It was just taking so long and Law was getting colder by the minute. Penguin grabbed Law’s hand and rubbed it.

“Don’t worry so much,” Shachi said.

“I can’t help it. I can’t fix this. He’s just going to die while I can’t do anything about it.”

“It will be fine.”

“Are you not worried?”

“Of course I am. Law is dying and Ruby is going off to fight alone, but I can’t just sit here worrying myself to death.”

Penguin huffed and frowned. Shachi was always the voice of reason. Penguin hated it sometimes. Sometimes he just wanted to worry. But Shachi was right, he couldn't just stew in his anxiety. He’d remain calm to the best of his ability, and be the lead nurse like he’s supposed to be.

~~~~~

Ruby avoided trap after trap. She had to be as careful as possible. She refused to be caught off guard or hurt. She had to save Law. And she would. The crew wouldn’t forgive her if she failed. She wouldn’t forgive herself if she failed.

Ruby sighed and leapt up onto a tree branch, jumping to the top so she could see above. She glared forward; she saw Lillie-Mai’s place. It was small. Not what she was expecting at all. She was thinking it was going to be some big, extravagant mansion, not a cozy little cottage in the middle of a clearing in the forest.

Ruby swallowed. That was what she wanted. Some cottage, safe away from people who could hurt her. Granted, she wanted it by the sea and not in the middle of the forest, but the sentiment was the same. Rage bubbled in her stomach. Why does Lillie-Mai get what Ruby has wanted for so long? Lillie-Mai doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to be happy and relaxed. She was part of Knotely’s group, Ruby never saw her regret a single moment while she was part of that gang. She was always so happy to be by his side.

Ruby snarled and jumped to another tree. She was tired of evading traps, she was tired of searching. She was going to get to Lillie-Mai as soon as possible so she could save Law. Law and the Heart Pirates were her home. They were her family. She’d protect them with her life. She’d kill anyone who dared to harm them.

Ruby jumped out of the final tree and into the clearing. She cleared her throat and rolled her shoulders. Her foot only hurt a little with that final jump. She took a deep, long breath, holding it for a moment.

“Lillie-Mai!” She yelled. “Get your ass out here!”

A breeze rolled by and her hair softly blew behind her. Her fists were clenched and her shoulders tense. She took another deep breath and tried to relieve the tension. She needed Law back to normal so he could give her a message. Also, Lillie-Mai was taking her sweet-ass time. Didn’t she hear Ruby? Ruby took another deep breath, ready to shout even louder.

“I’m here, I’m here. It’s so unladylike to shout, you know.” Lillie-Mai said as she walked out of her front door. “Then again, you’ve never really been a lady, have you?” Ruby stuck out her tongue. Lillie-Mai made a disgusted noise. “You haven’t grown up at all.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“The world knows about you, don’t you read the newspaper?”

“Why read the newspaper when you have a captain that will tell you the details every morning,” Ruby asked flatly.

“Just because your captain is the Warlord of the crew, doesn’t mean you’re shoved to the side,“Stiletto Ruby.” Do you know what they say about you in the papers? You’re superficial, selfish, and overly confident. You act like a child to get what you want and-”

“Who gives a damn!” Ruby flicked her wrist and her Scian Duille appeared in her fingers. “I don’t care about what you or the world sees me as. All I care about is my crew!”

Lillie-Mai sighed, very obviously frustrated with Ruby’s hardheadedness. “Seeing you’re not going to talk, let’s make a deal.”

Ruby raised her brow. “What kinda deal?”

“We’re going to fight obviously, because you’re too stupid and stubborn to talk. So what I suggest is when we do, no powers or weapons involved.”

Ruby thought for a moment, a large frown on her face. “Why should I trust you?”

“Because you could kill me from a distance. I would never even be able to touch you, let alone fight you. There’s no doubt in my mind that you’ve become stronger over the years while I’ve been relaxing in my cabin.”

“Then why attack my captain? Why even bother with us?”

“Well, I’m going to seize an opportunity if I can. You ruined my comfortable life, so I’m going to ruin yours.”

Ruby rolled her eyes. “Yeah, uh-huh, right, “comfortable.” As if you didn’t make a career out of hurting people.”

“And you didn’t? You’re such a hypocrite.”

“At least I can admit what I did was shitty, instead of pretending I’m better than what I was. You were happy playing Knotely’s plaything. I hated every minute being with his gang.”

“And yet you stayed, hypocrite.”

“I was 15!” Ruby snapped. “I was a child. What’s your excuse?!”

Lillie-Mai frowned deeply at her. A moment passed as a breeze blew by. “Do you accept my terms or not?”

“Fine,” Ruby said and dropped her Scian Duille, it going limp and flowing into the breeze. “I’ll play your game.” Ruby rolled her neck and lifted her fists up, ready for a knockdown, drag out fight.  

“Your shoes.”

“You want me to fight barefoot?”

“I said no weapons, didn’t I?”

Ruby scoffed and kicked off her heels, feeling the grass with her toes. Ruby looked to her heels with a frown, guess that hidden blade in the shoe ended up being pointless. “Anything else? Want me to fight naked, too?”

“No need, I’ve already declawed you.” Ruby puffed out her cheeks and furrowed her brows. “You’re such a child. How does your crew even tolerate you?”

“That’s really none of your business. Hurry up and get over here, I’m ready to deal with you and save my poor captain.”

Lillie-Mai shrugged off her fur coat, which was either the exact one she had from 10 years ago or one exactly similar to it. She stood there, in a red turtleneck and black jeans. She started to take off her gold hoop earrings and Ruby reached for her own earrings.

Ruby rubbed the onyx teardrops delicately with her thumb. She remembered how touched she was when Law bought them for her. It still filled her chest with warmth how genuinely sweet he was then. She thought about Law. She thought about those moments when he was soft and genuine. The sweet smile he gave her when he thought she wasn’t paying attention. The way he nuzzled the back of her neck when he thought she was asleep.

And he was dying. Lillie-Mai was trying to take him away from her and it made her heart squeeze. She felt like she was gasping for air every moment he slipped further and further into his fantasy. Ruby knew she wasn’t in his fantasy. She knew Lillie-Mai was doing it to dig that dagger into her skin even more. Proof that he could be happy without her.

But Ruby knew he could be happy without her. It didn’t hurt her because she knew he didn’t depend on her in such a way. It made her happy, because he was so independent and she didn’t want that to change. It just made it all the more sweeter when he told her he loved her. He could be happy without her, but he wanted her by his side.

Ruby took a deep breath and watched Lillie-Mai walk up to her slowly. Ruby hardened herself, pushing out the thoughts of her lover. She didn’t want to be soft and distracted. She was going to be in a battle, and she refused to lose focus on it.

She’d never forgive herself if she lost Law because she couldn’t fight this woman off. And the truth was, unlike Law, she couldn’t be happy without him.

#one piece fanfiction #one piece #lawxoc #law x oc #trafalgar law #side to side #sela ruby #ruby sela

[too-attached-to-fiction]

Insecurities

Masterlist here.

Word count: ~1130

Requested by anon

Request: hihi!! ive found myself falling quite fast for loki- i love his character and the way he’s written. anyway, i’d love it if you could write a loki x reader where loki is just,,,rlly insecure?? like the reader could have nyone they wanted- nd most ppl generally don’t look twice at him. and they just sorta,,,have to comfort him?

A/N: of course! I’m glad you like the way I write him, I’m always terrified of making him too formal or too out of character. I can totally see Loki as insecure; he’s been compared to Thor by Odin all of his life, how could he not be? I think Loki’s anger actually stems from insecurity, tbh. Thank you for submitting, requests are open!

~~~

Asgard didn’t mess around when it came to feasts. The warriors and valkyries ate double their body mass, as you and Frigga sat and watched. You weren’t sure what exactly they were celebrating this time, but you couldn’t argue with Thor, not when he had a mug of mead and was currently leading a drunken sing-a-long.

Odin had joined in the festivities, and luckily had been guided up to his chambers shortly after dinner. Loki, opposite his brother, stood in the corner of the dining hall, carefully observing the others.

Or, at least you thought that was what he was doing.

Despite appearing as such, Loki was lost in thought, staring off at all of the soldiers. Sometimes he wished he was naturally muscular, the way they were. Why weren’t you with one of those soldiers? Because you dreamed of the same things he did? Fame, glory, royalty?

Tonight you looked absolutely stunning. Still, you preferred to stay on the edge of things, politely denying any and all requests to dance. He’d watched you do it every single time. You never entertained the idea or flirted back. Instead, you simply said no, and asked one of the palace guards to escort them back to the middle of the room.

They had much more to offer. They weren’t as selfish, and they were strong, mighty. At this point, they had greater chances of being king than he ever would, given Odin’s favoritism.

And yet, you chose him, an outsider. The unwanted child. The one with an infamous reputation, the one who fed off of the misery of mortals.

He couldn’t understand how someone as kind, smart, and beautiful as you could love someone like him.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and escaped onto the balcony. The god of tricksters could make himself invisible, but you noticed his disappearance when you glanced over in his direction for the thirteenth time in the past minute.

“Excuse me, my lady.” You stood up, catching Frigga’s attention. “I have personal matters to attend to, but I will return shortly.”

“Go on.” She waved her hand, flashing you a gentle smile. You started to walk towards the balcony. You knew it was one of Loki’s favorite places in the castle.

He went there to think. He’d told you stories of when he was younger, standing on that balcony and imagining himself as the king of Asgard. The view of the empire he longed to rule was always brilliant, the buildings practically shining in the sun.

“(Y/N), would you like to dance?” One of the soldiers appeared in front of you, and you shook your head. The warrior remained in his spot, only more encouraged by your rejection.

“I assure you, I am wonderful at dancing.” He pressed on, and you shot a glare at him. You’d met a few persistent soldiers, but you tried your best to avoid escalation. It was best not to anger a drunken man, especially one with the ability to wield a weapon.

“No. If you’ll excuse me, I need to be somewhere.” You said, gently pushing on his chest and running off, even more determined to find Loki.

The balcony seemed empty, but you knew better. “Loki, my love, let me see you.” You called out into the darkness, and slowly, the god appeared before you. His green robes grazed the stone balcony, his hair slightly disheveled. His eyes, normally ice cold blue, were dull tonight.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, stepping forward and reaching out to fix his hair. “You seem upset.”

“My father would make anyone in that room king, but not me. You wouldn’t choose anyone to dance with tonight but me. I’m perplexed.” Even with you, he chose to keep a cold exterior. He was clearly upset, but he knew how to make his looks deceiving.

“Ah.” you said, running your thumb up his jawline. “Maybe it’s because of a difference in our perspectives of you.”

“Am I not fit to be king? Am I not worthy?” He asked you, and you could see the pain build up behind his eyes. “Tell me, (Y/N).” You dropped your hand from his face, aching to hold his. Instead, you guided him to the stone bench nearby, and the two of you sat together.

“You aren’t fit to be king, and you never were.” You said softly. “You are Loki Laufeyson, god of tricksters. You are worthy of power, and happiness, and so much more. I’m sorry that your father could ever make you think you are unworthy of those things.”

“Surrounded by warriors, you still search for me. Why is that?” He asked, meeting your eyes as he finished the sentence. “Surely there are better companions out there than myself.”

“I don’t want others. I want you.” You argued. “I want Loki, the god who is constantly reaching for universal domination. I want Loki, the same man who wraps himself around me at night because he knows I feel safe when he does that. I want Loki, my love, and my life.” You traced light circles on his knees. “None of them have what you have, none of them are different. They all follow the same patterns. But you...You treat me like royalty every moment of every day.”

“Of all of the creatures in the nine realms, I want you, Loki Laufeyson. Now will you please come dance with me?”

He gave you a small smile as he stood up. You kicked off your shoes before accepting the hand he had offered. Together, you made your way to the makeshift ballroom floor.

Listening carefully, you figured out the song playing was a waltz. One, two, three, one, two, three. Quickly, the two of you went to assume your positions and started stepping in time.

“I love you.” You said quietly as you spun together on the balcony.

“Thank you.” He said, even more quiet. “I needed to be reminded I was loved tonight.”

#loki #ll #loki laufeyson #asgard #frigga #odin #thor #MCU #asgardians #avengers infinity war #thor the dark world #mcu loki #marvel cinematic universe #loki imagines #mcu imagines #mcu thor #loki drabbles

[rockinthebeastmode]

Firestarter IV

A/N: Finishing this up took all night—not sure why as it’s nothing to write home about. Side note, I was worried writing the final scenes wouldn’t knock the word count above 2K and lo and behold, it’s almost 3K instead 😂 I hope you enjoy! it’s only downhill from here

Firestarter I   Firestarter II   Firestarter III

You can find Sleep here: I  II  III

You can find the rest of my fics here.

@mmfdfanfic @eveerez @i-dream-of-emus @lilaviolet @laurielau @hey1tskat1e @tinakegg @kneekeyta@likeashootingstarfades @girl-looking-out-window @stinemarine @lurkernolonger@crystalgiddings1993 @milllott @milymargot @vivammfd @finn-nelson-for-the-win @ifinallyknow@isthistherightwayround @believethaticanandiwill @my-mad-fatuation

Let me know if you want to be added/removed from the tag list and if I missed anyone :)

Firestarter IV

I need to be myself… I can’t be no one else

Finn reached and turned the music up before returning his attention to a cloudy mirror on the wall. He irritably adjusted his hair, squinting in the firelight.

He was due to pick Rae up in ten minutes—given she could sneak out successfully. He didn’t doubt her abilities but his stomach twisted with nerves. He was completely bricking it.

He’d spent the day getting ready, washing his bike and polishing his spare helmet—as if Rae could notice these tiny differences. He didn’t want her to be put off of him in any way; he wanted to impress her so much.

Finn was counting the days (or hours, really) he had with her and Archie and Chop. He wanted to make the most of his freedom, spend as much time with sound, cool people before he was locked up. He wanted to put his past behind him but it continued to hold a vice grip over him.

His scorched house almost mocked him as it stood, its remains like a beacon of sin. He saw his mother around every corner, unable to shake the thought of her and that day and the bullshit he was stuck in now.

He shook his head, his brows furrowing as he closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He didn’t need to be getting himself worked up on a night like this. Tonight was all about him, his mates, the bonfire, and Rae.

***

Finn slowed as he approached Rae’s house, keeping close to the street. He noticed only a couple lights were on, one coming from Rae’s bedroom. Her silhouette passed the window and the light went off. He waited with baited breath for her to exit the house. He bit his cheek as the seconds ticked on until she came out of the darkness, barely visible if not for the laces of her converse and her pale skin showing above her top.

He forced his eyes off of her chest, both grinning as she reached him and said, ‘Hiya,’ breathlessly. He offered his spare helmet, swallowing hard as she climbed on behind him and he took off a moment later.

Finn’s stomach fluttered with butterflies as Rae’s hands clasped on his stomach. He breathed deep and blinked to focus on the road. When they passed the town limits, he sped up, her arms tightening around him.

“She’s gonna make me crash,” he mused, biting back a grin.

He could hear and see the party as they approached, music blasting and lights scattered and strung up. The fire site was piled high and ready to be lit.

He parked between Archie and Chop’s cars and tried not to pout as Rae let go of him and gracefully dismounted the bike. He stood hastily to help Rae take off her helmet, her tongue sticking out at him as she fixed her hair and adjusted her clothes. He couldn’t help giving her a once over, his staring shortly interrupted by Chop.

“Finny! You’re just in time,” he crowed, throwing an arm around his shoulders, “Need you to do the honors.” He nodded to the fire site, a gap-toothed grin stretching across his face.

Finn breathed an anxious laugh, stepping from Chop’s hold towards the site. He knelt beside it, biting his lip as he held a lighter to the kindling. He watched the flames grow, keeping close to the powerful warmth before taking a deep breath and a step back. He felt Rae’s arm link with his and Archie’s hand gripping his shoulder securely and they stood together to watch the fire rise and build.

The song changing on the speakers broke their reverie, Finn and Rae exchanging disgusted looks at the sound. She asked Chop where the music was and a moment later, she was dragging Finn by his flannel, Archie and Chop laughing behind them.

She let go of him when they reached the stereo but he stayed close, their arms brushing as she flipped through CDs. He had a feeling she’d take the piss out of any of his choices so he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“What’re you drinking, girl?”

She tensed at his breath on her neck but smiled and turned to him, their faces close.

“Dunno...whatever you’re drinking,” she said, biting her lip at his answering smirk.

“Vodka?”

She nodded and he backed up a step, holding her gaze before turning towards the booze.

As he walked through all the people, he watched the fire, it’s size rivaling all bonfires from years past. He reckoned it wasn’t smart or good for a bunch of teenagers to hold a huge party with fire and alcohol but no one had stopped them yet.

He reached the drinks and pursed his lips as he looked for an untouched bottle of vodka. Archie’s hand came from the side and plucked one near the back, holding it out to him.

Finn clapped a hand to his shoulder as he took it, giving him a smile before gesturing to the party.

“So far, so good, eh?” Archie snorted and pointed at him.

“Don’t fucking jinx it.” His eyes left Finn to something behind him and he turned to see a few more cars pulling up and parking. Archie groaned and shook his head at the sight, Finn swallowing hard.

“And the drugs have arrived,” Archie droned, rolling his eyes.

They watched the group approach the fire and Finn recognized Stacey to the side, Macca’s arm around her neck. He frowned when he spotted Simmy with them, he and Macca locked in conversation. He opened his mouth to say something to Archie when someone moved and Kendo was revealed, Finn stiffening and lowering his head. Archie grabbed his shoulder, starting to push him away.

“You’d better move on, Finn, y’know Kendo’s on it lately...think business has been off.”

Finn nodded, his stomach dropping as he realized Kendo was most likely Simmy’s boss—and fuck if he was gonna do anything to help that motherfucker.

He left Archie’s side, making a beeline for Rae with the vodka clenched in his fist.

She was bent at the waist changing the CD when he reached her and he felt his mouth water at her skirt pulled tight over her arse. She stood and turned around, a swing to her hips as the music restarted. Their eyes met and hers lit up when he raised the vodka bottle and shook it with a crooked grin.

Finn opened the bottle and took a long swig, grimacing with a grunt as he handed it to Rae. He watched her throat as she swallowed, his gaze running over her. Rae sighed roughly as she lowered the bottle and closed it, sharing a smile with Finn. He waved a hand at the stereo, his brows waggling.

“Decent choice in tunes,” he offered, Rae giving him a smug look.

“It’s too bad all the reggae’s gone missing,” she teased, Finn barking a laugh.

“I’m sure you had nothing to do with that,” he retorted, his smile widening as she shrugged, her lips curling into a smirk.

His face dropped when he glanced behind them, seeing Simmy and Kendo standing nearby. He reached forward and ran a hand over Rae’s, slightly entwining their fingers.

“Wanna go for a walk?”

*** “Leave off, Chopper.”

“C’mon, Finn, everyone knows—“

“We’re not shagging!”

What was so fucking hard to understand about he and Stacey being just mates?

Chop raised a brow and Finn briefly considered hitting him when Archie rushed over, grabbing his arm.

“Barney just saw Stacey and Kendo head off into the woods,” he explained quickly.

“She can handle herself,” Finn scoffed, Archie shaking his head before he’d finished.

“He put something in her drink.”

Archie and Chop stood alone a second later, Finn going towards the trees at a sprint. He tried tuning out the loud music behind him, listening for anything amiss ahead of him. He thought he heard a high pitched moan, followed by shushing and he sped up, his eyes scanning the darkness.

Finn came up on a clearing, the moonlight making two forms barely visible. He recognized Kendo’s insufferable grin, Stacey slumped against him, pale and shivering in only her skirt and bra.

He saw red, his vision tunneling to see his hands pulling Stacey to the side and landing a solid punch to the side of Kendo’s head with a sickening crack, his body dropping to the side. He fell to his knees, gathering him up by the collar and holding him face to face.

“The fuck, Nelson—“

“It’s real easy taking advantage of a girl, innit?” Finn’s teeth gritted as he leaned in further, “Get the fuck outta here before I curl you up.”

As much as Finn wanted to beat the absolute shit out of him, Stacey’s shaking form kept him in line and he shook out his hand as Kendo scurried away, hand over his bloodied and swollen cheek.

“Finn?”

He tried to calm his hammering heartbeat as he went to her, shrugging off his jacket, throwing it around her and pulling her close. She continued to shake with repressed sobs, slowly giving in and breaking down as Finn ran a hand through her tousled hair.

His eyes squeezed shut and she cried into his neck quietly before pulling away, trying to smile despite her dazed and frightened state.

“How’d you know?”

“Best mate powers,” he whispered, tapping the side of his head and grinning as she sobbed a laugh. He wiped a final tear away, his hand holding her cheek and looking her face over.

“Y’alright?”

Stacey remained quiet as they met eyes, her brow lowering as she stared. He licked his lips and her eyes followed the movement. Finn felt breathless as she leaned closer and whispered into the silence.

“I am now.”

***

Finn kept his hold on Rae’s hand as they walked, aimlessly following a worn path on the forest floor. He glanced over at her as they reached a small pond and started around it.

“I’m glad you came...I would’ve been gutted if you couldn’t,” he began, his ears burning lightly at his admission. Rae squeezed his hand and they shared a smile.

“Me too,” she replied, “S’pose hanging with you beats reading.”

“Oh, y’mean those little books all over your room? Romance novels, aren’t they?” Finn leaned into her, wiggling his brows.

Rae smacked his arm, a blush darkening her cheeks and he laughed, stopping them and pulling her closer.

“Should read one to me sometime,” he said smoothly, Rae narrowing her eyes at him with a reluctant smile.

“You’re such a prick--”

Finn dropped the bottle and leaned in, pressing his lips to hers. Her surprised hum vibrated against him before she grasped his shirt in her fist and pulled him closer. His hand went to her cheek and held her face to his, the kiss deepening. When Rae’s tongue ran over his bottom lip, he forced himself to pull away, both catching their breath. She laughed and bit back a smirk.

“It’s about time y’did that,” she murmured, Finn’s brows raising with a slow grin.

“That was just to shut you up,” he said, his grin widening as she scoffed and rolled her eyes.

He kissed her again, his hand moving from her cheek to her hair, his fingers running through and holding the back of her neck. His tongue swiped along her lips and her lips parted, her hands squeezing his arms before moving to his shoulders.

“What was that one for?” she asked as she pulled away slightly. He smirked against her mouth.

“Because I wanted to,” he said, his hands moving to her hips, “D’ya think we should head back?” Rae half shrugged, a cheeky smile slowly forming.

“We could...or—“ she stopped, her hands lightly pushing his chest. He grinned as he stumbled back a step into a tree, Rae’s arms encircling his neck.

***

When they returned from the woods, the party had calmed down from its initial hype and there was the scent of spliff and booze everywhere they turned. Rae and Finn went towards the rest of the gang at the other end of the site when Simmy stepped in front of Finn, stopping him in his tracks. Rae looked between them curiously and he waved her ahead.

“I’ll catch up with you,” he said quickly, forcing a smile and biting his cheek as she nodded and walked away. Simmy grasped his shoulder, his fingers tightening as Finn scowled at him.

“You make a decision, Nelson?” he asked bluntly, his brow furrowing when Finn shook his head. He tried to backtrack when Simmy’s eyes flashed.

“Give me a couple more days, mate...got some shit to handle, you know how it is,” he appeased, clearing his throat at Simmy’s visible scepticism.

“Two days. I’ll ring you.”

With that, he stalked away toward his mates and Finn shook his head, a low groan emerging from his throat before he walked to the gang, taking a shot as he went.

As he reached them, Chop and Izzy bounced away to several dancing couples next to the fire, Chloe following and tugging Archie along with her. He exchanged amused glances with Rae as he handed her the bottle, the warmth of the alcohol and Rae’s smile running through his body. She choked slightly when his hand went to her waist, his fingers tickling her side.

“Fancy a dance?”

Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed like he was joking but he remained steady-eyed, a smile playing on his lips. Her lips flattened and she nodded, letting Finn take the bottle from her grip and lower it to the ground. He led them towards the side of the crowd and settled his hands on her hips, biting his lip as her hands went to his shoulders and ran up to his hair and the nape of his neck. He pulled her close, inhaling sharply as their chests met. They swayed to the beat, their eyes low but continually rising to meet. His face and ears burned from her touch, her fingers slowly running along his neck. They grew closer and he felt her lips against his cheek, his eyes closing. They shot open when he heard a familiar sniggering behind them, Stacey’s voice slicing into him.

“You’re not gonna introduce me, Finn?”

“Wasn’t planning to, no,” he replied dryly, his eyes shifting from Rae’s to glance at them.

He shuffled them further away as Stacey laughed scornfully, Rae looking at him questioningly. He lightly cleared his throat, his ears burning anew.

“Stacey, don’t—“ Macca sighed, stopping short when she threw him a thunderous glare.

“Shut up,” she snapped before turning to Rae with a saccharine smirk, “I’d be careful, love. Nelson moves on fast.” Her mouth opened to speak again and Finn cut her off.

“Fuck off,” he almost growled, glaring severely and continuing to move. Rae began to pull away.

“D’ya reckon he mentioned having one off with me last week?” Stacey asked Macca loudly, scrunching her nose.

People dancing nearby started to look over and she grinned as Rae stepped back from him fully and started to walk away swiftly.

Finn barely spared the two a glance, a frustrated groan escaping him before he took off after Rae.

“Rae, wait,” he called out, huffing as she continued walking away, “I’m sorry, it didn’t mean anything—“

She stopped and whipped around, Finn suddenly right in front of her. He reached out and she crossed her arms.

“Who is she?” she asked lowly, an irritated twist to her mouth. Finn shook his head and bit his lip.

“She’s just a friend.”

“A friend you fucked,” she pointed out, Finn grimacing at the barbs in her tone.

“We used to go out…” She started to walk away again and he grabbed her hand and pulled her back. “We grew up together, Rae, but we’re not together anymore,” he pleaded, entwining their fingers though she continued to frown at him, “You have to believe me.”

“Why should I?” she spat, her eyes shining in the moonlight. He stared into her eyes, moving as close as he dared.

“You know me,” he paused and Rae sighed, looking to the side, “You know the real me.”

She stepped away, attempting to distance herself from his intense gaze.

“The real you? I don’t know you at all,” she replied, her lips flattening, “And you don’t know me.”

“I wanna know you.”

She shook her head and started to turn back towards the party when he rushed forward and kissed her. She stiffened but responded after a moment, her hands gripping his biceps.

“You’re a dickhead,” she whispered against his lips, her eyes fluttering open. Finn wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed their foreheads together.

“You’re the dickhead.”

Thanks for reading! As a lil bonus, here’s a sneak peek from the first part of Night Shift 😏

Rae blew out a sigh as she closed her front door, falling back against it and closing her eyes. What a night.

Not bad overall, which was surprising. She’d expected to be miserably bored the entire time but the bloke who came in towards the end redeemed the night.

Finn...who the fuck was he?

Stamford wasn’t exactly a metropolis so she wondered how she’d never crossed paths with him before. She guessed he was around her age but he did have a bit of a young face...underneath all the blood.

She half hoped she’d see him again, to have a second chance to riddle him out. His injuries were concerning but he didn’t seem dangerous...more like he held his own.

And the money…

Rae didn’t plan on keeping it. She didn’t feel deserving of it, given her immediate rudeness. Not to mention the coffee switch. She smirked, the thought of Finn laying wide awake at 6am countering his cheek.

“Chloe?”

Silence met her call and she couldn’t help but frown as she dropped her bag to the side and shuffled deeper into the flat.

#mmfd fanfic #mmfdfanfic #mmfdfanfiction #mmfd fanfiction #my mad fat diary fanfic #my mad fat diary fanfiction #my mad fat diary #mymadfatdiary #firestarter #nightshift

[buglersboots]

My Experience with Prostate Cancer

I don't post this wanting anyone to feel sorry for me. I am pretty much recovered from this and am back to hiking 8-10 miles, lifting weights (although I'm not back to my pre-surgery poundage), bicycling 12-15 miles on the road, and 6-10 miles on the trails on my mountain bike. It's just something I want to get off my chest, and the anonymity afforded here makes it easier to say. And who knows, it may give encouragement to a person who is dealing with prostate cancer now.

The genesis of my story was late 2006 or early 2007, my yearly physical check up. My doctor said that since I was 45, he needed to run a PSA test to establish my baseline. About a week later, the doctor's office called and said that my PSA was abnormal and that he had scheduled an appointment with a urologist for follow-up. I kept the appointment with the urologist. He did the normal finger test and said that everything felt right. That was when I learned that a normal PSA is below 3 and that my score was above 10, a certain indication that I had prostate cancer. The urologist scheduled a date for what would become the first of several biopsies of my prostate.

I spent the time between that first meeting with the urologist and the biopsy learning about prostate cancer. First, when caught early, prostate cancer is almost always curable. Second, the cure has some unfortunate, life-long, and life-changing side effects. The most alarming are impotence, no more cum at orgasm, and varying degrees of incontinence. For an active person like me, the prospect of wearing diapers for the rest of my life was not something I looked forward to. Even worse, at 45, I still had hopes of having children, and the idea of being a permanent bottom was not appealing.

The day for the biopsy came, and I must admit that it was not as painful as I feared. Then came the waiting. Do I have cancer or not? If I have cancer, is it localized and treatable? Or has it spread, and I only have a limited number of days left? A week later, back at the urologist to get the results of the biopsy. Good news! No cancer in the biopsy! A month of worry and fret for nothing! But the urologist didn't sound as enthusiastic. Even though he removed twelve plugs from an organ the size of a walnut, all that meant was that there was no cancer in the samples. With my PSA as high as it was, it was a certainty that there was cancer in my prostate.

The next ten years included semiannual trips to the urologist for blood tests and finger tests. My PSA stayed consistently in the high 12s and low 13s. I endured two more biopsies, both of which were negative for cancer. As I said, the biopsy was not really painful, but for the next day or two, there is blood in your pee, and it takes four to six weeks before your semen is white again. But biopsies can damage the nerves that cause an erection. I don't know if it was the result of the biopsies or just my getting older, but my erections went from pointing up to the sky to 45° pointing to the ground.

In 2017 my PSA started rising and at my fall examination, it was over 17. My urologist recommended an MRI this time, saying that an MRI looked at the entire prostate rather than just a sample, and that it would find cancer anywhere in the prostate. Insurance balked at this, but my urologist was able to persuade them to cover the procedure. As with the biopsies before, the results of the MRI were negative for cancer. I dodged the bullet yet again.

My PSA continued to rise, and by the fall of 2018, it was over 23, a full ten points above what had been my normal reading. This time, my urologist wanted to do an extensive biopsy of between 24 and 36 cores. This would require that I be sedated and I would have to have someone drive me back home afterward. Finding a person willing to drive an hour to the hospital, wait two hours while I have the procedure done, and then another hour back home is a challenge for a single person with no family nearby and whose friends all have full-time jobs, but I did manage to get someone willing to kill half his day for me.

I arrive at the hospital and either insurance denied the extensive biopsy or my urologist had a change of heart, but he only took 14 cores. No need to be sedated, no need for a driver, another week of waiting for the results.

November 14, 2018, the results. My urologist walks into my examination room with papers in hand and says you have cancer. OK, is this one of the slow growing cancers that you do watchful waiting with or is it more serious? You have five cores that came back positive for cancer. Two have Gleason Scores of 3 + 3 = 6, two have Gleason scores of 3 + 4 = 7, and one has a Gleason Score of 4 + 3 = 7. These last three are concerning. In addition to that, one core showed cancer in 50% of the sample. The good news is that none of the cores showed perineural invasion, so we can fix you. At his last comment, I said to him that I know he didn't mean it like this, but I couldn't help but picture in my mind someone taking their dog to the vet to be fixed, especially given the similarities of the outcomes. We both had a good laugh over that.

November 29, 2018, preop consultation. During the two weeks following my diagnosis of cancer, I did a lot of research on treatment for prostate cancer. In addition to the three common treatments: surgery, radiation, hormonal therapy, I also learned about several other promising treatment methods in trials that did not result in impotence and incontinence. We discussed each one of the promising new treatment methods, and for each one, he explained why I was not a good candidate for inclusion in a trial. That left the three traditional treatment methods. He recommended surgery as the best option, because if the cancer comes back in the future, radiation or hormonal therapy are viable and relatively easy to do. In addition to that, I would still have viable sperm to harvest if I ever decided to start a family. Then I asked if he would do the nerve sparing surgery. He explained that even though my cancer was limited to one side of the prostate and had not penetrated the perineural, my high PSA, more than 3 positive cancer cores, a 4 + 3 = 7 Gleason Score, and at least one core with more than 35% cancer made me a poor candidate for nerve sparing surgery. So much for me ever being able to get a hard on by myself again. :(

Monday, January 7, 2019, surgery. Don't ask me anything about that day because I don't remember anything after they attached the IV to put me under. I was told that several people came by after surgery and that I carried on intelligent conversations with them. I'll take their word for it. My first post operation memory is waking up the evening after the surgery with crust on my face from my eyes down to my chin, like I had been crying. Was it from pain or because I just lost the ability to have sex on my own? I'm not sure. I don't remember being in pain, but they pump you full of pain killers after surgery also.

Tuesday, January 8, 2019, discharge. After a hearty breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, grits, coffee, orange juice, and biscuits, the discharge nurse enters. She provides instructions about how to care for the six incisions in my abdomen, how to care for and clean the Foley catheter, instructions for and limits to my physical activity for the next week, instructions about when to call the doctor or go back to the hospital if certain things happen, and prescriptions for half a dozen meds -- pain pills, antibiotics and such. I am out of the hospital by 10 AM the day after surgery. My driver is kind enough to take me to the pharmacy to pick up the meds. Why is the pharmacy always in the back of the store? It's not like people really want to walk to the back of the store the day after surgery.

Friday, January 11, 2019, return trip. In the four days since the surgery, I followed the discharge instructions as best I could. Don't stay seated for too long, walk at least once every hour for as far as you are able, keep the wounds clean, no lifting, take meds as instructed. But I had not had a bowel movement since the surgery, and it takes less and less food for me to feel full at each meal. After breakfast Friday morning, I try to take my morning meds with a glass of water. That was too much. I barely made it to the bathroom before I began to throw up the contents of my stomach. Uh-oh, the discharge papers say that throwing up is serious and to return to the hospital.

Back at the hospital, a series of x-rays and other tests results in a tube going up my nose, down my throat, and into my stomach to draw out the contents of my stomach. That was an experience I will not wish upon anyone. By that evening, it was determined that I needed to walk as much as I could, so a nurse came in every hour, helped me out of bed and I walked. At first, it was just in the room, and not too bad. By mid-day Saturday, it was "We need you to walk from your room, down the hall and to the nurses station and back." So here I am, showing my hiney to anyone who looks, dragging a rolling stand with my IV bags with one hand, a tube coming out of my nose, and my catheter bag in my other hand. What a frightful sight I was! The night nurse was a really cute, and really nice male nurse who was kind enough to get me a second gown to drape over my shoulders and hide my back side. He also set off my gaydar, I know you are not supposed to be able to tell us from straight people, but sometimes you just have to wonder. For some reason, I decided to lift my gown and look at crotch that evening, and I got the surprise of my life. My balls were the size of grapefruits and my dick had swollen so much that the skin of the shaft covered the head of my circumcised penis. I pressed the call button and a young female orderly came to my room a few minutes later. I did my best to describe my predicament in a way that would not get me labeled as some sexual deviant. She got my nice male nurse. He took one look at it and got the floor nurse because he had never seen anything like it. So now, the female orderly, my male nurse, and the female floor nurse are all in my room, looking at my swollen sexual organs. The floor nurse informs us all that the swelling was normal after surgery and that it takes care of itself in a week or two. That evening I have my first bowel movement since the surgery. It's only liquid, but it's a start.

The next day, Sunday, walking to the nurses station and back wasn't enough, now I had to walk the corridors of each of the four wings of the floor. I was told walking helps the swelling go down. I still had the rolling IV stand, my catheter bag, and the tube out my nose, but thanks to my night nurse, I could at least cover my rear end. By Sunday evening, I was starting to feel much better. I'm not sure if it was all the walking, the suctioning out of the contents of my stomach, or a combination of the two, but either way, my nose hose was no longer being hooked up to the suction pump. The bowels are moving more. In addition to green liquid, I'm pooping stuff that looks like coffee grounds. The nurses have to inspect what comes out each and every time I go to the bathroom. I feel sorry for them.

Monday, January 14, 2019, the nose tube comes out. One week after surgery. I get to drink water and eat ice chips again. Mind you that I have had nothing to eat since Friday morning, and the only times I was allowed to drink was when I took my meds. Since I am now consuming liquids, the IVs are all disconnected. A nurse accompanies me for my first lap around the floor to make sure I am OK. When we return to my room she says now do another lap by yourself. So now I am left to my own to do two laps around the floor every hour. About the time the other patients get lunch, they remove my nose tube, so I am only carrying my catheter bag for my hourly laps. My night nurse tells me that he can't get over how much better I look now compared to Friday night. I have to admit, I was feeling much better, so much better, that my perverted little brain was trying to figure out how I could get him into bed with me.

Tuesday, January 15, 2019, bye-bye catheter. For the first time since Friday morning, I get to eat food. It was only jello and cream of something soup, but hey, food is food. After breakfast I go down to x-ray where they fill my bladder with saline and take x-rays to make sure that the splice in my urethra has healed and is not leaking. If the swelling has gone down, I can't tell. I still have grapefruits hanging between my legs. My urologist comes by and tells me that after they remove the catheter, I will be going home. Excited to go home. Waiting. More waiting. Lunch of more jello and cream of something different soup. Still waiting. Finally two nurses come in to remove my catheter. They draw out the saline that has been keeping it in place in my bladder, and pull. Not a good feeling, but not as painful as I imagined. One of the nurses hands me a container and informs me that before I can be discharged, I have to produce enough pee to get to the mark on its side. If anyone has made it this far in my tale and has never had prostate surgery or never had a catheter for a week, let me educate you on something. When that catheter comes out, you have no bladder control. The kidneys send urine to the bladder and it pretty much comes on out by drips and squirts. So here I am, drinking as much water as I can stand, while at the same time holding that container under my dick, trying to catch every drop that comes out. Between my swollen balls, and surgery shortened still swollen dick, I can't sit down and collect my urine as it comes out, so I have to stand and walk around the room holding the container under my dick. My pee is still stained with a little blood from the surgery and the removal of the catheter, and a few blood clots that have been swept out by all the water I'm drinking. Between the water and the walking, I'm slowly approaching the line that the nurse marked on the container when I bump into the bedside table and drop the container. It hits the floor and spills all the pee I've so carefully collected. I have to start over. I have been so focused on filling the container with my pee, that I failed to notice that it is now supper time. Supper is more jello and cream of who knows what soup. That's when the nurse informs me that help prevent congestion at the front of the hospital, the hospital discharges each floor at a particular time, and that the floor I'm on discharges at 7:30 PM no matter what the doctor says. Finally, around 7:45, an orderly makes it to my room with a wheelchair and I'm on my way home.

[srlkiller]

today was a lot. i had a 1on1 therapy thing that was supposed to be like an INTRO TO UR RECOVERY WOO!!! LETS GET UR MENTAL HEALTH IN CONTROL!!! But instead it turned into me having 4 panic attacks constantly crying while venting to a social worker in a room w no air con for 2 hours about ‘how my month has been’ and ‘why i haven’t been attending any of my group therapy?’ well sue sweetie.. u asked me…n boy did i give u the answer ur career as a social worker has been WAITING 4!! then i got my 1st covid shot & briefly spoke to my doctor who was rude asf so i was like ok today fucked. Centrelink also called me and told me wrong info which fucked me over. then i see my dad calling and im like OFC HE IS!!massive fight as per n he hangs up but then continues via text bc hes petty asf.

BUT not as petty as my mom bc that is literally how the fight started. bc of her. like this bitch omg. she purposely runs off to my dad and tells him every little thing i do ‘wrong’ bc she knows his temper and how afraid i am of him due to past events so she uses him to basically do her dirty work for her n ‘scare me’. like that’s how manipulative and fucked up she is in the head. she made up a whole ass lie and told my dad that i said to my mom the only reason i was trying to stay in contact with my dad was so that i remain in his will as like the sole beneficiary or whatever….. how sick and twisted must you be to lie to someone directly in their face about something so serious INVOLVING UR OWN CHILD that you share with that person????? i would NEVER! say that about my dad. EVER. this happened months ago btw. as soon as i spoke about it w my dad and i was like “what.. dad i would never say that you know i don’t give a fuck about money like that i don’t care about your will why would i even be thinking about your will?” he was like wait actually that’s fucked up ur right. It was actually HER who made that comment. she got my dad to go and fix fencing at my nans house for free (using him) n my dad mentioned he had a girlfriend. my mum came home & SAID TO ME “u better hurry up and get in ur dads good books now that he has a gf.. before she gets a hold of his will and u end up w nothing” and i simply told her that my dad would never take me off his will regardless so why say that to me. once she got exposed she backtracked and was like “oh it was just a joke” & both my dad and I were both saying that even as a joke how is that funny? how does your mind even start to think in that way? how is this funny to you? then she flips it. her scripts are so repetitive now that ive caught on that i can actually predict what she’s gonna say before she opens her mouth. she manipulates u into thinking ur reality isn’t correct.. saying things like “ omg ur over reacting lol ur so dramatic no wonder no one takes u seriously in life, grow up, i have no idea what ur going on about, have u taken ur medication for the day, have u lost it, are u high on something?” like what in the fuck?

i never once mentioned anything about anyones will.. when i was younger i made the mistake obviously of telling her that my dad was leaving me his house. when my nans will was getting exposed she became overly obsessed w wills in general and changed hers. im guessing behind my back she has actually taken me off now but i don’t want her dirty ass money which is stolen from my accounts anyway. my nan left all her grandchildren a large sum of money that was supposed to be equally split among us, its now been over a year since my nan passed & i noticed a group text come up on my moms phone from her sisters talking about what they did for their children with that money. one of them paid off their entire hex debt so it must be a substantial amount. i have not seen a cent which means she has taken it for herself, put it in her name and placed it into a secret account without my knowledge. if it’s as much $ as i believe it is, this could seriously help me move out and better my situation which she constantly tells me she wants me to get the fuck out ect. yet you are holding the key to the door in ur hand? that’s twisted and very sick. they fought for a year over my nans money and all i asked for was an old XXXX gold stubby holder that was my grandads bc it was very sentimental to me. instead, they chose to have a garage sale and sold all of my nans things and sold that stubby holder to a random person for 20 cents………. i was in shock when i found out.. and they laughed and were like get over it omg it’s just a stubby holder you can just buy another one. these people are so fucked up but they all made me feel like i was losing my mind my whole life. money isn’t shit without sentiment. i could have given you 20 cents if you need that shit so bad. im only attached partially to these evil ass roaches by some genetics but to me none of them are my family. not once have i ever felt cared for, loved, accepted, safe or happy in their presence. i am only ever wanted when they can gain something from me. that is not family. my grandad was big on family n my nan and my grandad are the only two people i claim as family from my moms side. my nans two blind siblings who i admired & adored + a few of my grandads siblings were the only ones who actually showed interest in getting to know me & didn’t look down on me in any way. i was never considered ‘less than’ or not good enough yet i was the family disappointment to my mom and her sisters. but they have never seen her like i see her. the way she acts in front of family is not the person i know. she’s very good at acting. the way she pretends to be a ‘mother’ in front of her own family is actually scary. she’s like the ultimate con artist except she’s too fucking dumb to actually scam people and get rich off of her ability to manipulate whoever she wants. what a shame ur not intelligent.. that sure must suck huh. my nan gave me that maternal love i never had from my mother and my grandad was always that man who held us all together as a unit. when he got sick everything changed and started to go down hill. they had to give up their entire property, his big beautiful garden and vegetables he was really passionate about, the horses and land ect. my nan planted a rose bush and it grew big and blossomed big red roses and she said this is for you, my little rachel rose 🌹 🥺 she said she wanted to take the whole ass bush w her and replant it 😂 but my grandad was like we are not taking a fucking huge ass rose bush w thorns in the car w us Gloria.. i only remembered this today during that therapy session and i hyperventilated so bad n just started crying.. bc i couldn’t believe my brain had blocked that memory for so long just to recover it now that she’s no longer here to share it with.

i can feel the love my dad has for me even when he’s temperamental.. you can see it in his face and his eyes. when i look at my mom i try desperately to find some sort of just fucking anything and… i see nothing. i can tell that she doesn’t feel anything. but she does for other children. just not me. so i know she isn’t a heartless bitch and is capable of emotions of all sorts.. but anything to do with me it’s almost like im invisible or she cannot see fault in her self. she cannot in any way accept anything she has ever done, she has never said the words ‘I’m sorry’ for anything ever in life involving me, she has stood by (literally stood and watched) while her own sisters verbally abused me as a minor calling me out my name AND one even texted my best friend at the time who was about 14 saying that i was a bitch. meaning my mom gave my aunt my friends number to text that message.. my friends mom was livid about this bc what grown ass woman texts a random 14 year old girl paragraphs of shit like that swearing at them and saying that their friend is a rude ungrateful bitch. her mom reacted as a mother should. as i would love my mother to stick up for me just once in life.. u kno.. ever? i still remember my first SUI attempt at like 16 after being abused and this person told me they were leaving and coming back so i had about a 10 min window of time and i panicked as any 16 young girl home alone would.. i called my mom for help bc ur parents are supposed to protect you. her wording was “well what did u do to make him hit you?” “you know that you deserved that”. i was in disbelief that she would react like that.. she was talking so calmly while i was crying hysterically having a panic attack telling her this man was coming back in 10 mins asking her to please help me.. and all she could say was.. “you probably deserved it”. ive never been the same since then tbh. im not blessed enough to be a parent yet, i may never be.. but i know for a fucking FACT that i would NEVER say any of the shit that she says to me to ANY child let alone MY OWN?!?

you had me at 36 years old. you had time to think about this and evaluate whether you thought you would be able to care for a child and make a good parent. If you “didn’t want to deal with me” then you had other options.. you could have sent me to foster care, you could have adopted me out, you could aborted me, shidddd you could have mf swallowed me bitch let’s be real. no, you chose to have a child. there’s no 18 year contract.. she loves to play that card. “UR AN ADULT NOW”, what about me makes me an adult, my age makes me an adult to you? yet you’ve kept me so childlike, so codependent & haven’t taught me basic life skills despite me asking to learn. like im deadass watching YouTube videos to teach myself basic ass life skills… that is sad as fuck. when im 48… guess what??? i am still your child and unfortunately for me!! you are STILL my parent. there’s no changing that bc you made that choice. you can’t just b like yeah i change my mind nvm i want to return it…… like that is really her attitude. i was born with a lot of health issues that have escalated a lot and only continue to get worse with age both mental and physical. guess what tho… if ur child is born with defects u don’t get to just b like omg ew i don’t want it now this one’s too difficult. like trust me.. if i was one of those lil sperm rn i am not about to fertilise u for NOTHING if this is the consequence I’d rather jus keep on swimming lmao.

[artcanary]

1-50

oh my god dude 

im gonna put this under a cut bc this is a lot. this is a ride, have fun i guess

1. Your first OC ever?god. its got to be Super Kitty. when i was like … an incredibly small child I used to draw comic strips about this feline caped crusader, who was friends with everyone in the city, and the comics always involved him stopping an evil banana man from stealing money from the local bank. He was paid with donuts for his service to the city. i still remember how to draw him. 

2. Do you have a personal favourite among your OCs?i’d get arrested if I didn’t answer this with Bronze, probably… but really, they’re very important to me

3. Have you ever adopted a character or gotten a character from someone else?man, i cant remember! i really dont think i have… P:

4. A character you rarely talk about?there’s loads of characters ive never even posted a single picture of on tumblr, i wouldnt even know where to start asdf

5. If you could make only one of your OCs popular/known, who would it be? bronze is the easy answer, but… i guess that could also go to Servant or Westrin. Servant has a comic project in the works that basically stars him, sort of a series of one-shots about the things he’s experienced, i feel like that would be a good thing to take off and run with. Westrin’s just fun as hell, i love the guy.

6. Two OCs of yours that look alike despite not being related?real talk now… there’s at least five different characters that i refer to as a whole as “bronze-tangential”, who started out as, “what would bronze be like if they were in this world?” and then becoming their own thing within said world because i just get stupid attached 

its an epidemic

7. Are your OCs part of any story or stories?nearly all of them, actually. that’s the main reason i make characters, after all! too many to really go into specifics here, again P: 

8. Do you RP as any of your OCs? If you do, introduce one of your RP OCs here!not often, but i think Bronze and Westrin are the most common ones. unless playing a character in dnd, or running an npc in dnd counts… then a whole lot more hahaha

9. Would you ever be willing to give any of your OCs to someone else?it depends on the circumstances. i don’t really like the idea, though. 

10. Introduce an OC with a complicated design? Westrin’s old getup is a pain to draw, and there was one other design i did that I cant find anywhere… whichever way, i dont often tend to draw super complicated things often 

a couple fakemon ive designed though… heheh those can get pretty finicky

11. Is there any OC of yours you could describe as a “sunshine”? hmmmmmmmm my immediate thought was Eric Silverdale from a comic i was working on a few years ago. hes a darling, i want him to be my friend irl

12. Name an OC that isn’t yours but who you like a lothow could you do this to me i love each and every one of all my friends ocs GOD the first one who comes to mind is @d20-official‘s Smith, whos Bronze’s friend… everyone in that DND party actually

13. Do you have any troublemaker OCs? Rated on a scale from “harmless” to “honestly somewhat frightening”: -Baromet (charming and quite friendly but definitely a kleptomaniac),-Westrin (demigod of bards and travelers), -XEN09 (a nonsense hacker), -Conny (needlessly contrarian and dumb as HELL), -Enza Colie (long fucking story but hes a good-for-nothing), -Hemlocke (mad scientist, chaotic evil), -Iris (AI and hacker, VERY bad), -The Terminus (glitch-in-the-matrix demon, chaotic evil), -and Sydd (the Queen of the Faeries, hopefully the danger there needs no explaining :’D)

14. Introduce an OC with a tragic backstory Mmm… there’s a few of them, most obviously Lent (whose background I did a short comic about). Basically his entire town got eaten by ghosts and turned into zombies, he only barely survived with a sliver of his soul left. 

15. Do you like to talk about your OCs with other people?yes, i often discuss storylines and such with friends

16. Which one of your OCs would be the best at biology (school subject)? Probably Bronze’s dad! I don’t talk about him much, but his name’s Devon Reed, and he was a biotech developer specialising in android design. 

I often describe him as being something of a reverse Arthur Weasley - a very fatherly scientist fascinated to the moon and back with the concept of magic. 

17. Any OC OTPs? having trouble thinking of a lot of them right now, but there’s Eric + Lent & Naiadine + Tailias from Emerald Sigil, Avken + Baromet from my space campaign world, Sydd + Wyvv from my unnamed campaign world, and I’ve been considering Westrin + Servant as an interesting dynamic in Servant’s story

18. Any OC crackships? My character Bismuth and @autistictimeknight​‘s oc Eros. Theyre so fucking in love, I love it. Its been awhile but I do still think about them sometimes.

As I recall, Eros is an empath, she can read other people’s emotions. But Bismuth is a robot, and Eros can’t read her. Because of this Eros can let go of her fear of unintentionally manipulating the emotions of her date, which would hold her back from most other relationships. 

19. Introduce an OC that means a lot to you (and explain why)Hey, meet Bronze! I definitely do not talk about them every five minutes, why would you say that. 

Bronze was with me through two of the hardest years of my life so far, and being a DND character they grew with me, both as a fighter and as a person. They were non-binary before I started using those pronouns, they were the first character or person or anything who I fought someone about using the right pronouns for, they make a great icebreaker for if I want to see how someone reacts to non-binary pronouns … 

One funny anecdote about Bronze is that when I first made them, their “gimmick” was that they would sometimes glitch out and mess up their speech, mostly because I wanted an excuse not to engage in the roleplaying (which I was very bad at). The interesting thing is that as I got better at interacting with the group, we both grew out of needing it very quickly. 

I’m very proud of Bronze. 

20. Do any of your OCs sing? If they sing, care to share more details (headcanon voice, what kind of songs they like etc)?Westrin is a bard! His singing voice sounds like Bill Wurtz and these are his theme songs.

21. Your most artistic OCProbably Westrin again, he writes a lot of songs… and Hallux is a game designer?

22. Is there any OC of yours people tend to mischaracterize? If yes, how? I honestly dont know… no-one talks to me about them, haha! 

people use all manner of pronouns for bronze, though. 

23. Introduce OC that has changed from your first idea concerning what the character would be like?I’m gonna go with Enza for this one. Enza Colie was originally written entirely because I wanted an antagonist for a short starring his sister, Jane Colie. But the more I fleshed out his reasonings for acting how he did and explored his character, the more I realised he’d make an even more interesting character if allowed to have a redemption arc, too. 

I just want to state for the record that I was very reluctant to the idea, and he basically dragged his way out of the villain pit entirely of his own accord. I am dubiously proud of him, and also a bit scared. 

24. If you could meet one OC of yours, who would it be and why?Probably either Eric (Big Man, Best Friend), Crocus (Mother figure), Reed (Father Figure), Westrin (hed just make a good friend u kno??), or Bismuth (she makes good conversation!)

25. The OC that resembles you the most (same hobby, height, shared like/dislike for something etc?)probably the homestuck fan-troll Hallux, but that’s mostly because they were based on a troll-sona I made awhile ago. They’re a hope/prospit game designer who is small and full of rage and love

oh, and there’s dave! dave’s a superhero speedster, existing in a modern-day superhero version of seattle. theyre idiot, just like me,

26. Have you ever had to change your OC’s design or something else about them against your will? this is an interesting one… i don’t think ive ever had something Bad in a design ive done called to my attention by someone, but I did create my character Servant at around the same time I was first really expanding the diversity of my casts. (since i don’t talk about him often, a little context: he’s a magic spirit creature bound to human form to serve the royal family of the land and follow their orders.) 

somehow, younger-and-more-stupid me managed to have the revelation that making this “eternal slave” character literally anything other than a white man, especially as a white author, would be Pretty Not Good. im … thats really, really not something i should pat myself on the back for, but i do consider it one of the biggest bullets dodged in my artistic career so far that i realised that not all representation is good representation so quickly, before i could make that incredibly, incurably stupid mistake. 

after that, trying to make sure my characters and their presentations don’t harm anyone pretty much has become a paranoia. i don’t seem to have stepped on any toes yet, but when it inevitably happens, please let me know - i didnt know, and i want to fix it! 

27. Any OCs that were inspired by a certain song? None that I can think of, actually! I don’t really do that often. 

28. Your most dangerous OC? god damn it i have no idea!!! is it the terminus? glitch in the matrix god of chaos motherfucker?is it sarle? terrifying calculating scientist with the power of the soul at her fingertips ??? is it ares??? is it athena????? is it petra?????? the gatekeeper???? 

… actually, the gatekeeper might be it, if “dangerous” just refers to “the amount of raw power it can wield”. the Gatekeeper is a titanic entity that exists in interdimensional multiverse space, and its implied to have the ability to create and destroy entire universe bubbles at will. for what cosmic purpose, no-one knows. 

at a more personal scale, though, literally all of the aforementioned characters are pretty bad to run into too. 

29. Which one of your OCs would go investigate an abandoned house at night without telling anyone they’re going?god. Mina or Tawn. Tawn is the Indiana Jonesy type and probably dumb enough, but also competent enough not to get into too much trouble there. Mina would probably drag her friends along. 

30. Which one of your OCs would most likely have a secret stuffed animal collection? XEN09. No-one knows, because no-one knows xir personal identity. Xe absolutely does, though. It’s less of a secret if you know xir in person, but good luck finding out about it otherwise. 

31. Pick one OC of yours and explain what their tumblr blog would be like (what they reblog, layout, anything really)dave just reblogs memes all the time tbh. they like to keep tabs on the ridiculous superhero news going on, and they show human jokes and cat videos to their alien gf. they dont really post or add to posts, but they talk in tags a lot. 

32. Which one of your OCs would be the most suitable horror game protagonist and why? i want to say tawn because i literally just realised ive been imagining their voice as sounding like luigi this entire fucking time and i never realised until this exact instant

33. Your shyest OC?probably baromet. they prefer to keep to themself in their hideout, with their collection of shiny things. they don’t really enjoy trying to communicate much, mostly because they expect to get yelled at. 

34. Do you have any twin characters?Yes! At least two sets; 

- Crocus and Sarle. (x) (x) They don’t exactly have a very well-developed relationship, but they are both quite important to the plot of my campaign world, and they are both very interesting. Crocus is a motherly figure who just exudes friendliness, while Sarle is .. very much not that, a researcher studying very gruesome things and pushing the boundaries of reality. 

- Jane and Enza Colie. I haven’t talked a whole lot about either of them here, but I’d rather leave their story to do the talking whenever I get around to it. Essentially, the both of them were intended to do the dirty work for their crime boss family, but Jane ditched to study medicine. Most of the conflict between the two of them comes out of Enza not understanding why she made the choice she did, and coming to understand how he’s been manipulated. 

35. Any sibling characters? I can’t really think of any off the top of my head, I should … I should really work on that. 

I can talk about Westrin, though. Westrin (a demigod of many things, but namely bards, travel, travelers, and people who are lost) often becomes close friends with mortals, sometimes practically adopting them. These people who consider him family, and people who have received his blessing, are able to use his surname, Brilanta, as their own if they choose. So I guess all of the Brilantas are siblings, at least in spirit. 

Oh, and XEN09 has like, seven siblings. Xe is the second-oldest, and least remarkable. 

36. Do you have OC pairs where the other part belongs to someone else (siblings, lovers, friends etc)? I already talked about Eros and Bismuth up there a ways in question 18, but I’ll talk about another relationship here. @autistictimeknight​‘s character, Nova the Alchemist, is mentor and adopted parental figure to my character Munna. Munna … Munna isn’t a very good apprentice. She tries very hard. 

37. Introduce an OC who is not quite human That’s most of them, I’m not quite sure what to say here. Bronze is an android? Bronze again? Westrin? All the aliens ?? 

38. Which one of your OCs would be the best dancer? man. uh. westrin or jean. or perhaps valencia. 

39. Introduce any character you want ??? uhhhHHHhhHHH Lord Brillium is the reigning deity of the Cloud Kingdoms in the other campaign setting I’m working on. They represent light and the quest for knowledge, and spend most of their days in the Cathedral Observatory watching the stars. 

40. Any fond memories linked to your characters? Feel free to share!one time bronze flew a hover-bike through the stained glass window in a cathedral blaring all star by smash mouth on their iguana

also one time bronze rickrolled a rakshasa demon and then pulled updog on it like, two minutes later

another time bronze scared off an entire army by pretending to be an automated security system 

41. Has anyone drawn fanart of your OCs? If yes, maybe show a picture or two here (remember sources & permissions!)ive got a whole little folder on here from all you blessed people !!!! right now ive got a drawing quinn did of one o fmy characters as my lockscreen

but i think the one i’ll really never ever get over is this piece of Jane, by @rabendraws​ / @owoltron​: 

(i bet you thought i forgot about this, dude. dude. think again.) 

42. Which one of your OCs would be the most interested in Greek gods? this is kind of a weird question, m, I feel like Bismuth would find learning about the mythos utterly fascinating, as would Tawn. 

43. Do you have any certain type when you create your OCs? Do you tend to favour some certain traits or looks? It’s time to confesshaha. uh. i might. 

aside from the entire “bronze-tangential characters” thing i mentioned awhile back, I tend to really like designing characters with hair color lighter than their skin color. it just looks so cool man. i love drawing freckles but dont put them on enough characters. i like really curly hair, but also really long and flowy hair. i like drawing triangular body types, and pointy/prominent noses. 

44. Something you like about your OCs in generaluhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh this is a really vague question. m. m. 

45. A character you no longer use?there’s old versions of characters, but a lot of my older ones have been somehow repurposed. I guess there’s Turien, my first-ever DND character, who’s just kind of sitting dead now. Haven’t really done anything with him other than a pretty recent tangential character. 

46. Has anyone ever told you that you treat your OCs badly?Not that I can think of.

47. Has anyone ever (friendly) claimed any of your OCs as their child? Im certain it’s happened, but I can’t remember any specific instances. 

48. OC who is a perfect cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pureSpring. spring knows nothing of th dangers of the world who is letting them into fights someon eneeds to stop this

(spring roll, hehe.) 

49. Which one of your OCs would most likely enjoy memesim not sure what this question is asking since many of my ocs actively enjoy memes including but not limited to westrin, dave, bronze, xen09, iris, and doctor archersen

50. Give me the good ol’ OC talk here. Talk about anything you wanti think. i think im going to pass on this one. i gave you the good old oc talk. your damn turn, yall: 

if you have any questions about any of these guys feel free to shoot one at me!

thats all from me im tired and its one am. techskylander you absolute madman 

#yetanotherOCmeme #WHY #personal

[what-to-imagine-next]

8-13-2021

I don’t know, I feel like I have no one to talk to so I’ll talk here for now. Today’s the day the mushroom war starts and I think thats funny, its also my professor/friends birthday. Nothings really happening though, the same repeat of the day, the same ever boring longing for something more. Yet here I am, day in and day out doing the same casual banter and continuing though I’d rather not.

I mean yeah I know it would hurt many if I was dead, but I’m just so tired. no matter what I do I’m still tired. Two hours of sleep? Still tired. Eight hours? Still tired. Twelve? Sixteen? It doesn’t matter what I do I’m just still so tired. I wish something was refreshing enough to make it feel like something new and happy and interesting was happening. I know many things are happening around me yet it all feels the same. 

Anyways, sometimes it feels like I’m nothing but some obnoxious dimwit who does nothing but cause a mass of chaos among the already boiled waters. Maybe thats just who I am.

I don’t know if thats the case, people say I’m great and that I cause happiness and make it so people are able to do better and improve. Every time I hear it , it feels like they’re all just stating some simple barely there fact to make me feel better for a short time so I can continue to do what I do so they don’t have to deal with getting rid of me, like its easier to say I’m good than to admit how rude, obnoxiously loud and repulsively annoying I am. Maybe they’re telling the truth and I’m just some mentally ill idiot who needs some help not absolutely despising themself.

One thing that I know people never mean to hurt me with is, “turn it down a notch.” Sometimes its just due to my vocal projection being a bit loud, I always feel like just shutting down after, I just want to curl up and forget I was there. I’m sorry that I was too loud. I didn’t mean to be. I’m sorry I didn’t mean to and I wish I would be able to pay attention more and I’m sorry that I’m not able to do that and that when I’m happy and excited to talk I just get louder and louder. I don’t mean to, I’m not trying to yell and I’m sorry I’m too much all the time. I wish I wasn’t like this. I wish I could yell and yell and yell and scream till I cough up blood and ruin my ability to talk every again, maybe they’d be happier with me like that, I’d just be the great listener they want and id finally not be the cause of their headaches.

I’m sorry that I cant control myself enough and for my idiotic behavior. I’m sorry that I don’t smile enough anymore, I’m sorry I’m not happy like I used to be and that no matter what I’m digging myself into a grave and making sure I don’t get out and I know that this is all happening and I’m sorry that right now I’m just digging down instead of out. I know I can, I’ve had to time and time again but I just want to be me for a bit and feel horrible cause my whole life has just been covering it up so I can take care of everyone around me and I even do that right now so I’m just going to feel and be horrible and finally cry enough to feel something other than to stupid and quick brewed anger that sparks up to quickly.

I wish I was the me I used to be, but I’d also never want to be them again. 

I’ve always hated myself, even when young. Even as that energetic blond with bouncy curls and a smile who wanted to help and hug the world. I’ve never been enough and I don’t think I’ll ever be enough. not for others, I can be if I let myself, but I don’t think I’ll ever be enough for myself.

Since I could remember I’ve been a ball of rage and anger. Even when I try not to be, even if I’ve changed. I still am that. I’m a bit better now I suppose, its not healthy better but its better? It used to be that any time people around me picked on me, or teased, I’d flip. I hated it. I’d get flustered and yell and kick and punch and break things. Always. Even if it was over something small. Every time they’d laugh. They’d all point and laugh and say more to rile me up even more. I’m sorry that it was that funny. I’m sorry ive never been good at controlling anything small about myself. 

I’m sorry, I’ve always been sorry so now, I ball it up inside and release it away from others to feel pain and hate myself, I’m hands are starting to get really scared up from punching walls. Yeah I know its not good, but its all I have right now thats not killing myself over some stupid situation. I know I need healthier things to do, which is why right now I’m just ranting into some stupid blog where no one will read it and i’ll still be that lonely idiot with a million freinds but no one to go to. 

they say they’re here for me, but I don’t want pity when I’m like this. I hate it. I fucking hate when they just look down on me like some broken and beaten puppy someone left on the side of the fucking road. I’m a broken person but treat me like you would yourself, sometimes I just need someone to listen and be there.

One person I used to go to I don’t right now cause it just feels like I’m intruding and that the advice they give me is a bit condescending even when they don’t mean to do it, but I don’t want to say anything, instead i’ll listen to them and be there for them and be here on this dead blog when I need “someone” to listen. 

I hate that I know whats wrong with me, I hate that I end up thinking about what I can fix and what I could do to fix it but I just feel like some invisible wall is there not letting me progress, like a locked area of a map that you have to be a certain level to be able to progress to. its just over there, I can see it and I know how to get there but some invisible force keeps me getting worse and worse and keeps convincing myself to hate myself further.

I wish I smiled more.

I wish I made everyones day better.

I wish I was able to change the world.

I wish I could do something. Anything.

I wish i was better.

I wish I wasn’t just like my parents, both in the best and worst ways.

I wish I was something people aspired to be.

I wish I could control myself.

I wish I was able to be happy. 

I wish I was happy.

I wish I wasn’t me. 

anyways I’m not okay right now. 

I don’t think I ever will be.

#sorry for the rant #rant #sah

[collage-portfolio-time]

Interview Preparation

Career Choice : Illustrator

Company Choice : FolioArt

1. Tell me about yourself. I am a 16 year old artist who has been working with portraiture, both realistic and cartoonish, since I was very small. I have won 2 consecutive awards for the international government-run ‘Manga Jiman’ competition, both in 2019 and 2020, winning the youths prize in 2019 and both the youths prize and 7th place in 2020, ‘making history’ as I won the youths prize two years running. The music I listen to inspires me a lot as what I draw can sometimes entirely depend on what I am listening to at the time. I have had a major interest in manga and anime since I was young and that has also influenced my style of work and the fandoms I go around to spread my collection of work to different places of the internet.

2. Why do you want to work for us? I love the fact your company will represent a range of illustrators, both well-known and up and coming. That makes you seem much more open to different styles of work and experimentation to me which I find myself drawn to.

3. What can you bring to our company? Why should we hire you? I can bring a range of styles. Like Ive said before, I work in both realism and cartoonish styles of work, which I feel could bring more people in from completely different sides of the art world. I can also work with a wide range of mediums, from digital work to watercolors, although I find myself preferring digital for the clarity you can get in an image.

4. What do you know about our company? You were established in central London in the 1970’s and are now working worldwide. You cover all sides of the art world from traditional works to GIF’s. You say you have a personal relationship with your illustrators. You have also represented artists that have worked with well-known bands for album art which include Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd and The Rolling Stones, and have also had artists under your wing work with film studios like when Joe Petagna created the concept for the Facehugger in Alien.

5. Where do you see yourself in 5 years? What are your career goals? I hope to see myself with enough of a following to simply be able to create for myself and be able to make a living, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t enjoy working for others unless I like their concepts and ideas as I will just simply be uninterested in what I create and end up producing something boring as a result. I want to work to the best of my ability, and as much as the art world is ran on what others want to see, I want to dictate what I do in the process while also getting approval from the people who will consume it.

6. Why did you choose this field/career path? I chose this career path as it’s the only thing I know. As I child I would never let myself do anything but draw, I was obsessed with the gratification I got when I saw that I was improving. That was probably a detriment in the long run as now I feel obligated to work in the art industry because if I don’t what have I been doing this whole time. I feel like I owe it to myself and to the people who have funded my interests and hobby.

7. Can you tell me about your role in your current place of work? Right now I am a college student, so my role is to learn. I will create, be criticized and create again. My job is to learn from the criticism and improve upon myself to represent the collage in a good light as well as myself, and hopefully gain recognition so the collage can say that they taught me for better reputation.

8. What are your strengths/weaknesses? My biggest weakness is my pride. I will become quite offended by the slightest bit of criticism that I think isn't warranted, and yet I am so self-critical that I will rip a piece to shreds if I go a touch out of my lines while painting. It hurts to have my fears confirmed that I won't be the gifted child forever and that I will blur into the crowd of other talented artists in my classroom. It's not only that but also the thought that I spent so long on a piece to be told that it didn’t match up to an idea someone else wanted or there wasn’t enough color, and I find myself unconsciously lashing out, but I am trying to work past that and take the criticism thankfully. Despite that, what could be considered one of my greatest strengths from time to time will be my stubbornness, as I will stick to a plan I like no matter what others tell me might go wrong, which sometimes works in my favor. Technically, I am more skilled with watercolors and digital mediums than I thought I was, as the amount of people I hear struggle with them is astonishing to me as I find I work with them with relative ease, but to counter that I now struggle with mediums such as acrylics and colored pencils as Ive laid off them for so long. I hope to get better with those mediums in the future as I practice more with them again.

9. Tell me about a time when you worked in a team? Were you a leader/coordinator/etc.? I studied performing arts when I was at The Academy Grimsby secondary school. We were tasked to create a script or scenario based on a prompt that I can't quite place now, and we were a group of 4 actors as most people there were dancers. I ended up writing up the entire script that I put together, although the others did prompt some ideas, and almost directing practices. I felt I was forced into a leading position as the others weren't engaging as much as they probably should have, apart from one other person who seemed to take it as seriously as I did. I feel despite the fact I was practically shoved into the lead, and even though the script was probably shoddy as I had never really written besides from creative writing in English, I lead them well considering I was known to be quite antisocial and introverted. That situation made me realize that I was better at controlling situations and being assertive to others than I ever thought I would be, although I wasn’t too strict or bossy from what I remember.

10. Tell me about a time when you faced a challenge. What was your reaction? How did you solve it? I faced quite a big challenge when I created the first page of my 2020 Manga Jiman entry. In the first page you get quite a copious amount of building shots, and while it looked good how I imagined it, I realized when I had finished the sketch that I had never really drawn a building before. It took me two days of constant redoing, experimentation and almost scrapping the first page entirely before I finally felt happy with what I had produced. Nowadays I find it much easier to step out of my comfort zone and delve into architecture when drawing backgrounds, and I feel this experience helped me progress as an artist.

11. Tell me about an accomplishment you are most proud of. Ive mentioned this before a copious amount of times, but my Manga Jiman awards. As they are government run and judges by professional mangaka (manga creators) I think it gives my awards that extra flair of pride that makes me cling to them. The thing I will probably particularly cling to is the fact they said I was ‘making history’ with my consecutive youths prize wins, which I think is quite a good thing to be able to say on a resume. Not only that, but my winning submission for the 2020 competition was given a talk about on the award ceremony by a legendary mangaka Kiriko Kubo, who said my ‘line was neat, the layout was good and the main character was charming.’,’the work can be read smoothly’, and that ‘creating atmosphere is important, and being able to do it like this is an exellent talent’. It gives me pride that someone so prestigious in a world I had barely entered would praise my work so highly.

12. What motivates you? What can motivate me most are two things: approval from others and money. I am materialistic at heart but also sensitive to others comments on my work, so the both end up being great pushes in my art career. I feel if I am being paid for my work that it is worth something, because objectively it is, and being praised for what I do makes me feel validated beyond what I thought was possible, so the two can push me to keep going.

13. What was your biggest failure? What did you learn from it? My biggest failure is the many times Ive tried to work with soft pastels. I don’t know what it is with that medium that renders me unable to function with them but I cannot create a good piece with those sticks of chalk in my hands. I learnt that I am not the best with dry mediums and should probably keep to my paints and digital mediums for now, although I'm always open to trying them out again and again until I get used to them.

14. What was your biggest mistake? How did you fix it? My biggest mistake was thinking I was going to get placed in my first Manga Jiman entry in 2019. I was 15 at the time, so there wasn’t much of a chance I was going to be placed within the top 10 because of my age alone but I didn’t realize that at the time. I had gotten so apprehensive about results that should've been obvious from the moment I was shortlisted, but I was aiming for the top 5 in the placings. I still think that my work might've placed in top 5 had I been older, but the embarrassment and sadness about ‘only’ getting youths prize at the time was almost overwhelming. That experience taught me not to get my hopes up on stuff like that and set myself up for the worst when it comes to things like this in the future, which I did in the 2020 entry. I was simply aiming for 10th place as I wasn’t even aware the youths prize was being awarded that year because there was only 11 of us, and one of the prizes was the yonkoma award for people who were between 11 and 13 containing a single 4 panel page which one of the shortlisted entries mirrored. I ended up getting more that I thought I would've in the terms of awards and recognition which I was happy about.

15. Are you willing to relocate/travel? I am willing to relocate and travel, although i would prefer to do so with someone else I trust as I tend to get nervous in new situations should that be possible.

16. Do you have any hobbies? What are they? I don’t really do much other than draw for my social media’s and complete collage work. I do small things such as singing and watching twitch streamers, but those are few and far between or happening while I work so I don’t think they can be considered big hobbies of mine. I used to bake when I had to take a lot of time out of secondary school due to sickness but I had a lot of spare time back then so it was more possible for me to have hobbies other than art.

17. What are your computer skills/technical skills? I know how to work almost all Microsoft programs, office 365/outlook, and various digital art programmes such as medibang paint pro and the basics of photoshop/illustrator. I also know general video editing such as keyframing and audio manipulation in Wondershare Filmora.

18. How did you hear about this position? I chose to contact you for this position as I had found you take submissions for new artists to represent and thought I'd shoot my shot.

19. What are your salary requirements? Minimum wage and whatever you/the client feel I deserve on top of that, even if that’s nothing at all. As long as I get minimum wage for my work and supplies, I am fine with that.

20. Do you have any questions for me? How would you represent me? Would it be a situation where you would recommend me to people looking to commission and leave us to our devices or would you be there the whole process?

[austinkeptweird]

Universe I get why your putting me through this. I know its so I can help others one day and find true happniess but why put so many loved ones in my path that I care so deepyly about, yet loss. I know its to teach me. I know its to practice tryin to heal and support. I know its cause they need love. I know you got me no matter what. I know that by doing this your making me able to reach the final goal of happniess and peace. I know by failing I get better. I know by failling I learn acceptance. I know by failling I see the truths better. To fail is to learn to succed. I get why but I just wish It would hurt so much. I wish I didnt loose so many. I looked at so many friends as brothers. I looked at so many friends as sisters. I still do but why do so many of my brothers and sisters have to be in the place they are? A place that I cant be around. Not out of fear or any negative but out of self love and for the ability to finaly be succesful on my path. I understand and accept and will continue to do so. I just wish it didnt hurt so much to miss them all so much and to fail even if its for the "right" truth. I know the truth is only important to me right now because until I really surrender to the fact that its okay and is always a possibilty Ill maybe have to walk alone for a long time or even forever. Until I can accept that I cant even do what im trying to do by showing them the truth. Its yes of course for me but its also cause i value are friendship, aswell as leting go of caring what others think about me. I have to let go of it also being able to help them to know the truth. When I say help them im reffering to helping others find peace, true inner happyness and peace. Thats one of the things ive wanted most in life to help others find those things but I know I cant until i find it myself. I invite and ask you universe with your masculine and feminem sides as well as your cosmic, natrual, spiritual powers to help me and support me. Give me love and acceptance formyself and all others regardless of what there doing to me or anyone or anything elses. To send my postive loving healing energy to all including most importantly myself. Please protect my force field around myself and my home and loved ones from energy that is hurting the are true pure selfs. I know I am pure but my abilitys have to learn to be gray so I can finally change the pattern in my past lifes by finding balance which will give me internal peace in my soul. To change from my past lifes by doing even more good for others which will be iminselly increased by learing balance. No more getting consumed no more being lost no more having good intintions but bad action and then lossing all good in my by having resentment and anger that is so powerfull I actually act upon it. Instead I have to and wll let myself feel it but let it go and if I cant call in yall to help and my spirit guides (rn only my mom and jake my familiar). I surrender my anger and resentment to the ones that have hurt do hurt and will hurt me. Hurt people hurt people is a true phrase but I will not let it be a phrase that includes me anymore. I will not give power to the lies by the things that are the truths that I do slip on. If I wouldnt of been so viloent to others and didnt show everyone how anger I can get theses lies would hold no weight and be seen for the reality of its munipulation and holes. If I wasent loyal to others based on the high I got off of others view of me being "so loyal" I wouldnt have given the lie of "see if he beat him up robbed him lied to them (ect) so how do you know if he isint capble of ______" Its my anger, my old disire and still current rare disire for it now that is the reason I hvent gotten further on this path. Aswell as my "need" and "want" of justice to be done. I am not karma I am not justice I am not and will not some who hurts others I am someone who heals and protects and loves others. So from now on I am going to do my best and will only do things that show the true me. The True Lee the True soul of mine. The soul of that kid who wanted to learn rikie to fix others. The soul of that teen that loved comradere and loyalty to my bones. THat kid who worked with helped and heals dogs at southpaws play school. THat young man who felt pure love when I looked in her blue eyes and saw her soul. That young man that just wanted her to live up to all she could be and could see her own emmense potintal. That kid young man and man that protects all that are being prayed on and hurt. The soul that is a spiritual healer, worrior, leader, and lover. The soul of the kid, youngs mans, and man who is the one that will break the family cycle and find finsh the undone work and the lost work of those who were consumed or never saw the path of my past recarnations and future. Mom I love and miss your please continue to protect, show me the truth, and help me thru all my emotions. I love and understand you universe. The masculie and feminem sides the dark and light sides, the right and wrong muniplated realitys, planes, and other levels I see and dont. I love and accept all of your childern, gods goddess, animals, plants, and all other living things that we are all conected to. I let go of fear of anny of theses and grab respect and boundries to let in or not let in all things connected to me. Im building and built boundries to all theses things aswell to protect me from trickery, over consumption and obbession, dark, light and every were in between. It will get better and worse but over all it will progress more and more. IN this life time and others. I would say I will achive my goal maybe my current one but my ultiment goal is to get better at healing loving protecting leading teaching learning forever and ever so its a ongoing goal that I will work toward to for infinty. Protection and protecting is what I will ask for right now for myself my grandfather my grandmother trent my sister her husban my aunt debbie and wendy and my nephew. As above as below. Ahoe. To all my relations and conectons. Love and healing. Blessed be. So its said it will be. So I belive it will become

[thepeopleivenevermet]

FAQ

What is this?

This is a collection of the real stories of the people I meet over the internet, mostly over the Moonguard server on World of Warcraft. Every story is their own and is credited in some way. Our goal is to share the experiences, morals, life lessons, and memories of people so that others may feel no longer alone, entertained, inspired, or anything else. We hope to reach over 150 entries. The stories in this book will be real stories from real people, not characters or fiction.

Why are you doing this?

I believe everyone, deep down, is a writer, has passion, and has a voice. A silly RP server on a large MMORPG obviously has people looking to write and be heard. I am the pen and paper these people may use to present their memories, ideas, thoughts, and overall stories to anyone willing to read.

How will you write their stories?

I, unfortunately, cannot write everyone’s entire stories as they are presented, as these conversations can last up to hours at a time and some emails can read like novels. I will do my best to write them word for word and you can actually choose if you want it written in 1st person perspective or 3rd person perspective. No matter the length and perspective, I will try my best to write between 90% to 100% accuracy, word for word, how the story is presented to me. That way, all the credit goes to you and I have no presence in it. What you write to me is most likely what you will see in the book. The person can choose their own way of crediting but I will name the story myself, which will be fitting and appropriate and with permission.

How long are the stories?

Obviously, for over 150 planned stories, they won’t be super long, but they also won’t be little synopsizes. The average length of a story will be around a paragraph and a half or two, with other sizes varying depending on the number of important details and plot points. If need be, I will cut out seemingly unnecessary details or things that don’t quite add up or fix some things if I think I knew what you were trying to say. Before saving the draft to the book, I will show you what I’ve come up with and you can tell me if I should revise it or change some things. This is you telling the story, I’m simply putting it down on paper.

What will the book be?

I am aiming for a self-published, paperback novel with original art for the covers and a back synopsis. The book will be 8.5″ x 11″ and all stories will be in alphabetical order by title I give them. The back pages will be a glossary with all the credits.

How much will it be?

Because it is still in its early draft, the book does not have a set price, but will actually not be available to buy directly from any website. I am making no profit from this project, meaning I get no money from it. The cost to essentially “buy it’ is estimated to be around $30.

Wait what do you mean? How do I get a copy?

You see, I want no money from this. This is a passion project. My goal is simply to share people’s stories with the world. So, I’m not exactly selling this book. Once the book is finished and prim and ready to be bought, I will upload the PDF of it as well as instructions on how to make it on TheBookPatch.com. However, you must remember, that though this website has the ability to sell any book you create on it, my name and organization are copyrighted, and trying to sell this book as your own and make a profit is illegal and will result in legal action.

Well then if I just have the PDF, what’s stopping me from just having it and not buying a book?

Nothing! Keep the PDF! Show your friends! Just don’t sell it. I mean, it’s free, and everyone has the instructions to make it themselves. But the real point here is that this is a project to show the world that everyone has a story and everyone has something happen to them and everyone is different yet the same. If you wish to have just the digital copy, then go ahead! If you wish to have the paperback book, with original art and synopsis, then go ahead too! Everyone has different preferences, why would I restrict anyone from viewing what I set out to show?

Can I change the covers of the book if I want a hard copy?

Of course! Just don’t take credit for my work, erase any of my crediting, or tamper with the book itself. TheBookPatch forces the book to be 8.5″ x 11″ so that cannot change.

I want to publish my story but I don’t want it in your book.

By all means, please use TheBookPatch.com to publish any story you have into a hard copy, or use any story sharing website if you want to keep it digital. I am not keeping your stories for myself, I am not saying they’re mine. However, TheBookPatch is an amazing publishing website and I highly recommend them.

What stories are allowed?

Any that are not too filthy! Romantic, dark, sad, happy, funny, action, thrilling, horror, etc. Explicit gore, pornography, extremely triggering events, agenda pushing, and politics pushing is not allowed. However, if your story is one of the above genres with elements of the lower genres, then that’s fine.

How can I send you my story?

Mainly in three ways; one is by email. My email is [email protected]. I check it frequently and will respond to you as quick as I can. The second is by the asks here on Tumblr. You can send me an ask, anonymous is okay if you don’t want to show your blog, I won’t publish any of the asks I receive, or you can message me. The third is how I started all this; by catching my character in World of Warcraft. The server is Moonguard and I patrol Stormwind city. My name is Ives Gardenia. My times on it vary.

Why should I do this? What do I get out of this?

The same as I do, buddy. Nothing. However, you also gain the opportunity to share your story, something you’ve always wanted to share, and potentially inspire people, move people, make others feel less alone. This project is for people looking to do nothing but share their story. I’m sorry I cannot offer more...however, I do have bigger projects rattling in this brain of mine for the future. So keep an eye open. Keep in mind, though, I’m not forcing you to do this.

Crediting? Anonymity?

In no way will I put your personal information out. I will not dox you, I will not bully you, and I will protect you. Before telling your story to me, you will tell me if you want to use your real name, a fake name either you or I made up, or to keep names out of it altogether. Whatever you choose, the crediting will be in the back of the book. If I miss you after it’s published, please email me. I’m trying to tell your story, not sell you out to the masses. And remember, the story you send me will be 90% to 100% word for word accurate in the final product.

Your mission sounds familiar.

Despite starting this project 4 years ago, I have been often compared to a Youtuber named Syrmor, who also listens to and records peoples stories and uploads them to Youtube. The work Syrmor does is moving, has helped people, and spreads joy. I have the utmost respect for Syrmor and his work. However, I must state once again that I am in no way “copying” him as I have been doing this for 4 years and him, I believe, 1 or 2 now. Once again, I love Syrmor and eagerly await every new upload, but I am in no way “copying” him.

4 years ago? But this Tumblr’s so new!

For 4 years now, I’ve been obtaining people’s stories only through email and through World of Warcraft. Only now, after all this time, did I realize how effective using Tumblr as a platform of gaining more and also writing down information could be.

Wait! I have more questions!

If none of your questions here were answered, please send me an ask or email me!

Thank you again for being you! Stay amazing and inspiring~

#roleplay #world of warcraft #wow #rp #stories #life #real #the people ive never met #ives gardenia #people

[snickerl]

Elixir Vitae

AU fanfic set around the time of IWTB. 

Find previous chapters here: Chapter I / Chapter II / Chapter III / Chapter IV / Chapter V / Chapter VI / Chapter VII / Chapter VIII / Chapter IX / Chapter X

Chapter XI

Over the past weeks, Scully has been reading quite a few X-Files. The first one I gave her was the one to our first case in Bellefleur, Oregon. I've put together what I hope is a representative collection of our work, sparing her the most horrible cases, the ones with tortured victims or harmed children. Some make her laugh, some make her look at me with her eyebrow hitting her hairline, some clearly incite her scientific interest, some make her gasp, and some put an expression of terror and shock on her face.

What I don't like about this reading process is that she isn't talking to me about how she copes with all this crazy crap. Does is make any sense or is it all science fiction to her? Does she think that the work we were so dedicated to was nothing but a wild-goose chase? She probably doesn't remember that I once told her I hadn't made the world a happier place, and if she asked me now whether it was worth it, whether my obsession with the X-Files was worth all the pain, the grief, and the loss, I wouldn't know how to answer her.

She spends a lot of time in the huge wing chair by the fireplace these days, cross-legged, an X-File on her lap, her reading glasses on the tip of her nose, and a pot of tea on the coffee table. She sits there for hours, deeply buried in a file, unresponsive and ignorant to what's happening around her. There are days, I deliberately vacuum the living room and work extra extensively around the chair just to make her look up and interact with me, but I doubt she even notices what I'm doing. She'd said she wanted me to guide her through her getting re-acquainted with the X-Files but now she's doing it all alone, and I'm not convinced that this is the best way to do it.

The chair is empty now, after having been occupied by a reading Scully since breakfast. I'd put lunch on the table and she spoke maybe ten words with me during our otherwise silent meal. We never felt the urgency to fill the silence, to babble only to make a sound. We could sit in a car for hours without saying a word, each dwelling on their own thoughts, without feeling awkward for a second. But this silence doesn't feel comfortable, and it frightens me. After lunch, when she helped me clear the table and do the dishes, she was absentminded and again not very talkative. I even suggested she give her mom a call just to hear her voice but she shook her head and said she wanted to go for a walk. When I offered to join her, she explained that she needed some time to contemplate and rather go alone. I wasn't too happy about it but it was okay for me as I had planned to do some repairs around the house, fixing the loose contact of the living room floor lamp being one.

I'm just about to finish my job when I hear her open the screen door. I turn around, switch the light on and off and announce proudly, "I fixed the lamp."

Instead of patting me on the shoulder and congratulating me on my handicraft, she enters my personal space wordlessly, puts her hands on the back of my neck, and fondles my hair. When she leans in for a kiss I'm a bit surprised, but she tastes too good not to reciprocate adequately. So I let my tongue sweep the insides of her cheeks and my hands gently squeeze her waist.

"Mmmm, Scully," I mumble with my lips on hers, "I just fixed that cable. No big deal."

"I have something to tell you," she purrs into my ear after breaking the kiss which is obviously not meant as a reward for having fixed her reading lamp.

"Oh? Something good?"

I'm not sure. What did she need time alone to think about?

She looks at me, her eyes unreadable, and I decide not to try to imagine what she wants to say to me but just wait for her to start.

But she doesn't.

She presses her lips together and tucks her hair behind her ears. I'm glued to her lips, waiting for them to form some words, but all they do is wait to be licked once again. She clears her throat which makes me think she's about to talk, and her mouth does open but no sound emerges from it, instead, she closes it again and bites her lower lip.

C'mon, woman, don't let me starve here!

"Scully! Would you please say something!"

"I don't know how."

Her ribcage rises and falls vigorously now with her heavy breathing.

"Just spit it out! Are you leaving me?"

Has this been her farewell kiss?

"What? No! Why would I leave you?"

"I don't know. Because you still don't know who I am? Because you still can't remember us?"

I stare at her and can't keep my eyes from filling with fearful tears. Of course, our happiness wasn't meant to be for good, what have I been thinking? Of course, fate played a trick on us, taking away from us the only good thing that has remained a constant in our lives which is our relationship.

"But I do," she whispers.

I'm confused, and I bet my face is showing it.

"You do what?"

"Remember us. Us together."

I better make sure there's no misunderstanding here. I've kept my hopes low all this time, never allowed them to get out of hand, always reminding myself that her amnesia might remain permanent. I only wanted to keep myself from breaking apart completely should it ever become a reality we have to deal with. So when I hear her say she remembers something, anything, I want to be sure I'm not mishearing.

"You do?"

She nods.

I'm a bit worried because her face is so earnest despite the best of news she's sharing. She seems insecure about it, so I don't dare to rejoice over it yet. There must be a check. One way or another, my knees feel like Jell-O and I have to sit down. I lower myself to the backrest of the living room couch for support.

"You remember?" I ask cautiously.

Another nod.

"Since when?"

"Have you fallen back into the phase of two-word sentences?" she replies, grinning noncommittally.

"Don't do this to me, Scully," I beg her in more than two words. "Answer my question. Since when do you remember? What do you remember?"

"It started a few weeks ago. Shortly after I began reading the files you gave me."

"A few weeks ago? Why haven't you said anything? How could you keep that from me? My heart was breaking for you because of your memory loss and you don't deem it worthy to tell me when it's coming back?"

I guess I sound a bit worked-up, but I am! How could she do this to me?

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. They were just single, incoherent flashbacks at the beginning. More like déjà-vues than real memories. I couldn't tell whether I remembered something or whether I'd read it or had been told."

Shit! That's exactly what Dr. Pratt predicted would happen if we fed her memory with input.

I told you I didn't want you to read those damn files, Scully!

"It took a while until things began to make sense to me, until I dared to believe in what I was remembering. If I had talked to you about it, it would've left me insecure yet again. I had to figure this out myself first."

"And? Have you figured it out?"

"Not all of it. I still miss a lot of memories, I guess, but I've got quite a few of them back."

She beams at me and I marvel what I am to make of her glowing face.

"So? What do you remember?" I ask, praying for her to remember mainly the good things that happened to her. Yes, there have been a few! Of course, there've been considerably more sad than happy moments, especially since she started hanging out with me. So, from a statistical point of view, it's much more likely that the horrible moments of her life creep back into her conscience than any of the rare joyful ones. But would she be beaming like she is right now if that were the case?

"What I mainly remember is..." She takes another step toward me and positions herself between my legs as I'm still sitting on the sofa's backrest. Her eyes are at level with mine and her glance is meaningful and also full of emotion. "Us," she says.

I swallow. "Us?"

"Yes, Mulder. Us." She moves yet a little closer and entangles her hands behind my neck. "I remember when we first met. How I rode the elevator all the way down to the basement of the Hoover Building, nervous to meet the infamous Fox Spooky Mulder."

I give a short laugh.

"I remember that when I saw you hunched over some of your beloved slides and you turned around to look at me, my first thought was 'Why hasn't anybody told me how cute he is?'"

"Oh, c'mon, Scully, you're making this up!"

"No, I swear it was my first thought. But, of course, my excitement quickly turned into bewilderment when you interrogated me about my beliefs in the extraterrestrial."

She smirks at me.

"That's more like it. What else do you remember?"

Her demeanor loses all of its playfulness in an instant. She stiffens, and to me, it's more than clear that she's not only recollected the fluffy moments.

"I remember having been abducted and left in a coma, and seeing immense relief in your eyes when I woke up. Relief and joy but also guilt. And I remember seeing the very same expression again when I told you that the cancer had gone into remission two years later."

"Ugh, yes. I had my difficulties coping with the diagnoses. Both times. I was afraid I'd lose you."

"That would explain the relief and the joy, but not the guilt."

"Scully, I was the root of what happened to you. If you hadn't accepted the assignment to work with me, you-"

She puts a finger to my mouth to stop me from finishing the sentence and shushes me. "I thought we'd already talked about my making choices and being responsible for my life."

"But-" I try again but am interrupted right away.

"No but. Don't reduce me to a tiny, brittle woman without the will nor the ability to determine her own life. I might not know everything about who or what I am, but I do know I'm no such person."

"No, definitely not. Tiny, yes, but definitely not brittle. You're the fiercest, toughest, and most strong-willed person I know, and that includes the male part of my acquaintances."

Her expression softens at the compliment. I guess she noticed my admiration was honest.

"You said you remembered 'us', Scully. What exactly did you mean by that?"

"That most of my memories circle around us. Us as partners, us as friends. As lovers. Parents." Her voice trails off. Its tone has changed within those few words from firm to insecure and finally sad. The way our relationship has evolved over the years couldn't be described any more pointedly.

"You remember us with William?"

She nods, then shakes her head. "There's something I really don't understand, Mulder."

She swallows away a lump that must be the size of a cantaloupe because of the extensive gulp she's taking to get rid of it.

I know exactly what's bothering her. "You're asking yourself why I'm not in the picture much."

She closes her eyes and frowns. I can see how digging out the memories deep down from her conscience is a physical exertion.

"I have recollections of us at Lamaze class, but not when I told you I was pregnant. I see you talking to the pediatric nurse at the hospital, but not beside me when I gave birth. Actually, I don't have any recollections of the delivery room whatsoever, but I just know you weren't there. I see you holding him between us and kissing me, I see you humming a lullaby to him, I see myself feeding him in his high chair or pushing him through the park in his stroller. There are images of him at an age he's able to hold his head up, to sit, to crawl, but there are none with him being old enough to speak his first words or take his first steps. I've never heard him call me mommy, have I?"

A tear emerges from her closed eyes. I'm transfixed by the wet path the drop takes down her cheek until it comes to a halt on her upper lip, followed by another one which makes its way much quicker for it's bigger and guided by the trail the first has left behind. She catches both tears which have formed one big drop close to her mole with her lower lip and sniffs. Eventually, she opens her eyes and with a gaze so pure she asks me, her voice barely above a whisper, "how have we been able to survive this, Mulder?"

Seeing her having understood everything, seeing her getting the whole picture of our short, painful parenthood, even if some details are still missing, tears me apart. My own hurt, which I'm able to lock up more often than I'm not, is pushing itself forward with a vengeance and I feel tears filling my own eyes. I have no words to say to her. She's asked the right question, but I don't have an answer for her other than that we haven't done so much more than keeping up our vitally important body functions. We have survived the loss of our child, yes, we have stayed alive, but we haven't been able to get over it. Not in the least. And we never will.

"We had each other, Scully," I say. "We depended on the other to give our lives a meaning. And it worked. They way we loved each other helped us to cope with the pain. We learned how to be happy without him. There were days we failed miserably, but more days we managed to be grateful for having us, and we enjoyed being together. I guess we got married to make exactly that statement, that we'd decided to pull through this together, to not let fate beat us."

"Sounds like a pretty symbiotic relationship," she says, her eyes scrutinizing my face.

I give a gentle chuckle. "It was symbiotic from the moment we met, Scully. I'm dependent on you in every respect. You're my elixir of life."

I hope I'm not overwhelming her with my confession, but I've always been the more feeble one in our relationship, always more dependent on her than she was on me.

She cups my face with her hands, locking eyes. Her thumbs stroke my cheeks tenderly and I see so much compassion in her face, I fear I'm going to drown in it.

"It must have been very difficult for you when I was gone."

"Difficult?" I chuckle again, but this time it sounds bitter. "Yeah, difficult would be an appropriate word."

I almost ceased to exist. Getting up in the morning, facing another day without knowing her whereabouts or condition, was an energy-sapping exertion. I felt so lost in my world. Deserted and alone, like a toddler in a supermarket who doesn't know which aisle their mother has vanished into. The boundless fear that she was abused or tormented somewhere by this freak made me picture the worst scenarios my profiler's mind was able to come up with. It was like hell on earth.

So, yes, I definitely had a difficult time.

I believe she's divined my thoughts, at least some of them, because she rests her forehead against mine and I feel her soft breath on my face. It's such an intimate posture. At the time we still held on to the platonic nature of our partnership so eagerly, putting our foreheads together had been the most intimate way we allowed ourselves to touch each other.

"Oh, Mulder, I'm so sorry," she whispers. She presses a kiss to my forehead before she pulls me into an embrace.

I rest my head against her chest and let her stroke my hair. The regular beating of her heart soothes me.

"I'm back," she reassures me, "maybe not completely yet, but I won't go anywhere, ever."

to be continued

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[arabellaflynn]

I keep going through cycles where I try to convince myself that there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just a lazy sod, and I'm whining over nothing. Symptoms are subjective. Nobody likes getting up early in the morning, they do it anyway. Nobody likes hot muggy weather, but they don't let themselves melt into a useless puddle on the bed all afternoon. Then shit happens, and I am reminded that not only are all the things I think are wrong with me actually wrong with me, I am usually introduced to a brand-new symptom that I didn't even fucking know was a thing. The tech who did my hip imaging mentioned in passing that low body temperature was a known feature of EDS. Judging from the comments I got when the nurse couldn't get an IV into me last week, and the fact that she tried to fix that by heaping me with heated blankets, I don't just think my hands and feet are always cold, or feel chilled when I'm short on sleep, I actually am having temperature regulation issues. I have kind of given up on asking people to diagnose me officially and just started telling medical people I have Ehlers-Danlos. If they ask where I got the diagnosis, I say 'me'. It hasn't started an outright argument yet, but I'm waiting. A word on medical self-diagnosis: Don't. If you want a few more words on it, don't bother unless you've already exhausted all the reasonable options, are willing (and able) to essentially put yourself through med school lite via getting your university-affiliated friends to steal things off PubMed for you, and are willing to concede the argument to your actual doctor if in fact you turn out to be wrong. Because you will turn out to be wrong a lot, and while your doctor might not actually know what you have, s/he probably has a better idea of what will outright kill you than some random yobbo who put a FAQ up on Squarespace and called it a day. This is also one of those things where I'm going to go 'do as I say, not as I do'. I've gotten away with a lot of incredibly dumbass things in my life. The fact that I'm here to tell you about them is just survivor bias. If any one of them hadn't worked out, you wouldn't be hearing the story. There's a phrase in medicine: "When you hear hoofbeats, think horses, not zebras". There are horses all over the world, but zebras only live in one chunk of Africa. If you hear something clopping up to your boring suburban practice, the odds that it's anything but your average everyday horse are extremely low. The odds of it being a zebra, however, are not zero. They do exist somewhere. Ehlers-Danlos patients have adopted "zebra" as a sort of collective nickname. The best research I can find gives a rate of 0.02-0.04%, although that's probably way low -- the severity of symptoms varies from person to person, and it's possible to just not have any idea there's a reason why your elbows pop backwards. So far all of the other medically bendy people I've run into weren't diagnosed until well into adulthood, simply because nobody thought to ask. There's no good lab test for hypermobility type, which is the one I have. They can test for genetic markers, but unlike some of the other varieties, HT is not associated with any one specific mutation, so it's kind of worthless. I am quite sure I have it anyway. It is the only potential diagnosis I've ever run into that I can explain without having to involve the phrase, "but I'm weird." Take anxiety, for example. The definition of an anxiety disorder is "huge amounts of anxiety that may or may not have any relation to reality or logic, but are nevertheless ruining your life," so I definitely have that. It's listed on my records as "anxiety disorder NOS" i.e., 'not otherwise specified', because it doesn't really fit any of the standard listings. Most anxiety is at least partly psychogenic -- you talk yourself into having panic attacks, or at least have a hard time asserting enough logic to talk yourself out of them. There's an emotional element of sheer terror. People who have panic attacks have been known to mistake them for heart attacks or strokes and hie themselves to the ER, more than once. They're not stupid, and they don't think the doctor's incompetent; it's just that when you're in the middle of it, the fear convinces you that, yeah, the first three turned out not to be pulmonary embolism after all, but what if this is the one you can't ignore?  I always weirded out the psych personnel, because I don't do that. I always know what it is, I know that I'm not dying, and I know what they can give me to fix it. My stress levels are obviously high at that point, but it's always over some kind of life events that are legitimately stressful. 'Talking myself out of it' doesn't work because there's nothing to argue with myself about: I know I'm not in mortal danger, it just doesn't make any difference. When something startles me, first I hit the ceiling. Then, a few milliseconds later when it's time to file the Incident Report, my brain scrawls some completely random shit on the form, jams it in the outbox, and congratulates itself on a job well done. It immediately gets bunged through the reality tester, where it fails harder than an absentee stoner in a DiffEq course ("Mr Amygdala, you cannot throw the entire system into panic mode every time the Weather Service flies a Cessna overhead, on the grounds that it -- and I quote -- 'might be carrying a nuclear payload.' Unquote."), but it doesn't matter. The fight-or-flight thing is off and running. And I can't withdraw to calm down, because by that point, I am startled by almost literally everything in the entire universe, and there just isn't enough time between the air molecules giving me jump scares. Ehlers-Danlos is the only diagnosis I have ever found that would make all of the bizarre things I run into on a daily basis completely normal. It doesn't just explain all the crazy seemingly-unrelated shit that goes wrong, it also explains a lot of the crazy seemingly-unrelated shit that goes right. I span several Fächer in singing -- I'm not record-breaking or anything, but if I'm in regular practice, I can sing most of "Phantom of the Opera" by myself, less the Phantom's bottom note, and Christine's top 1-2 whistle voice shrieks. EDS is a collection of mutations affecting collagen production, and I bet you can guess what vocal cords are made of. The ability to hit the specific note I'm aiming for is a matter of practice, but I have extra singing range in my voice for the same reason I have extra rotational range in my hip joints. from Blogger http://ift.tt/2nrkCm7 via IFTTT -------------------- Enjoy my writing? Consider becoming a Patron, subscribing via Kindle, or just toss a little something in my tip jar. Thanks!

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