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especiallythewomenandthechildren · 3 months

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As If Destiny (part ten) 🌹

Part 9.5🌹

a/n: the fact that i can keep finding gifs of this fine fine man.

love to you and even more love to you.

warnings: it's the hunger games universe. you know what you are getting into.

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3:02 A.M

3:03 A.M

3:04 A.M

Coriolanus Snow was immobile as he watched the time pass on the cracked clock along the wall. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight so he didn't even attempt it. Even as he closed his eyes due to the pounding migraine in his head, all he saw was you.

Your falling form, shaky hands, empty eyes. Silent mouth.

Not a single scream was heard from you when you got hit.

That was probably what haunted Snow the most. Your tragedy was silent. Life was slipping out of your being with no noise.

He sighed as he rubbed his eyes in frustration. He has been in the constant loop of falling into a rabbit hole of you, fighting to get out, then falling straight back in. This torture cycle has been going on for hours and wouldn't cease until he finally got to see you again.

When Coryo made it home, he fell straight into Tigris's arms. There was no need for him to explain what occurred as news spread like wildfire across the Capital. He always hated the speed of gossip across the city but was thankful for this one instance only because Tigris already knew what to do. She comforted her younger cousin and didn't pester him with questions but made sure he wasn't too lost in his head.

That's how they spent their entire evening until it hit midnight. The older Snow cousin could barely keep her eyes awake but swore she would stay by Coryo's side. Although, with enough reassurance that he would be fine and exhaustion overcoming her body, she finally relented to her small room.

While Coriolanus was glad Tigris was getting some well-earned sleep, he most definitely lied.

He was not fine.

3:11 A.M

He looked down at his desk where his own ideas for the Games lay. He had written them, revised, wrote some more, and revised even more. It was the only thing that got his mind off of your massacred form. If he edited anymore, he was sure to ruin the proposals.

The adolescent's blue eyes moved from the pages to stare out the window you loved so much. Those blossoming trees didn't sway as they usually did. Even they seemed disappointed at your disappearance.

While the flowering trees did remind him yet again of you, they also sprung an idea. It definitely wasn't the most intelligent idea and especially not the safest, but any reservations had to settle down as the Capital Zoo gates came into view. Why he was here? Even Coryo couldn't answer that but he figured it would be as good of a distraction as any.

The sweat piling on his palms seemed to be the only sign of reason within his being as he inched closer and closer. Not even twenty-four hours ago, a murder was attempted. On someone just like him. And someone got hurt. You got hurt.

He sighed as he was now only mere feet away from the gates. Coryo wondered if you would be upset at him being here. Would you think he is foolish or would you have faith in Lucy Gray?

There wasn't much lighting around the zoo but it wasn't necessary; Coriolanus could feel the eyes on him. The mentor could only pray that they were the brown eyes of the girl he was looking for.

"Lucy Gray?"

The hushed tone was hard to pick up on except if one was within a few meters of it. Whether the girl in question should be grateful she heard was still to be seen. Gently sliding Jessup's head off her shoulder, Lucy Gray creeped closer to the bars. Coriolanus waited a few moments before he opened his mouth to call out again. Though before any words were said, he was cut-off by a greeting from the singer herself.

"Coriolanus?"

He let out a breath when the girl presented herself, her appearance slightly shining under the dingy lighting. He brushed his hands through his now deflated curls. Lucy Gray waited patiently for him to form the words. Words he was unfamiliar with as he just spewed what was on his mind.

"I'm so sorry, I just- I couldn't sleep and thought you might be awake."

As soon as the words left his mouth, the blonde wished he could take them back. The reality of the situation hit him full force. Here he is interrupting what may be the last peaceful moments of this girl's life because he couldn't control his train of thought. He buried his face in his hands and stayed there until a small giggle was heard. He peered up to meet the soft smile of Lucy Gray.

"I thought mentors were supposed to take of us."

If it wasn't for her kind tone and sweet smile, Coriolanus would have been offended. He didn't know why he came to her, but a part of him trusted her. Or at least trusted she didn't have many people to tell.

His blue orbs watched her face deflate into one of worry as she walked closer.

"Is she okay?"

It was a quiet whisper burdened with concern. His trust was reaffirmed in Lucy Gray as he heard her concern for you. He nodded slowly while he opened his mouth to speak in a grave tone.

"She survived and will be released in a few hours. However, the cuts are aggressive "

Lucy Gray hung off of every word, genuinely concerned for your well-being. You were nothing but kind to her and Jessup. Not to mention you did try to help Brandy. The rest of the evening Lucy Gray kept on thinking about you and your actions.

Your kindness on the station, intimidating aura in the van, and quiet talk with Jessup in the zoo. The talk he didn't go much into detail about, still unsure of what to make of it. Lucy Gray didn't wish harm on anyone who has never personally harmed her and even though the redhead who mocked her own tribute was clearly cruel, she didn't believe she deserved death. When it all happened, the singer was shocked into stillness as she saw the murder attempt and was forced into movement when she saw your neck covered in blood.

After the incident and Brandy's corpse being carried out, the zoo was nearly empty of all visitors. The tributes mostly kept to themselves or their fellow district pair. Lucy Gray often thought of her family, the Covey, especially Maude Ivory. But it wasn't long before she once again thought over why you took the hit instead of the snarling girl.

The mentor didn't seem very happy with you and was insulting not only you, but someone clearly important to you. Lucy Gray has been around enough nasty folks to know that they always choose words carefully. Lucy Gray knew very little about you but even she could tell that whoever Otto was, he shouldn't have been mentioned.

The girl sighed herself as looked at the exhausted boy in front of her. The affection between you two was quite clear and it made her a bit more accepting of the Capital citizenship. If one can love another, they must have some sort of humanity.

"I can see why you love her."

Coriolanus Snow choked on his saliva upon hearing the words. His eyes were bright with fear and shock. The boy never even admitted that to himself and well he knew his feelings were strong, the word "love" was never used. Lucy Gray began internally panicking at seeing the boy's silence.

"You do love her right?"

Coryo's eyes scrunched slightly as he analyzed the soft tone used. Analyzed her question. In all his analysis, no answer provided itself.

"Is this what love feels like?"

He was eerily quiet; words spoken at a volume, it sounded like it would break. The question of her mentor made her relax and give a little laugh.

"Oh, you poor suffering soul!"

She teased lightly. Twelve hours ago, this situation wouldn't even be in either teenagers' wildest imagination. Yet here they stood, one lost in love-struck daze and the other in a satisfied companionship. Lucy Gray was behind bars, counting down the hours she had left in her life, but she wasn't too focused on that fact for the moment. The poster boy of the prestigious Capital stood completely vulnerable in front of her in the dead hours of the night.

These might be her last days of her young life, but Lucy Gray feels an odd sense of gratitude. She hates that she, along with the rest of the innocent tributes, are forced to massacre one another. Her blood boils at the thought that the Games are allowed and even encouraged. But she is grateful for Coriolanus.

Lucy Gray is still unsure why he came to her, but the action made her heart swell. Coriolanus didn't just see her as a tribute, or worse, just a pawn in the game to win the prize. She knew that was part of his motivations in his care for her, but in this quiet moment with no cameras, Coriolanus Snow sees her as a friend. A confidant in the silence of the city of whispers.

Her smile slightly deflated as she thought of her own run with love.

"You know, whatever happens in that arena, thank you. If for nothing more than showing me at least one man knows how to love in this world."

Coryo's stupor evaporated as the Reaping replayed in his head. Oh.

"That boy? He-"

"Didn't know how to love the girl who loved him. Got too greedy."

Lucy Gray's snarl was apparent as she thought over the boy and his affair who sent her here. Her heart was already broken, why did she also have it to be physically stabbed?

Coryo could start feeling his own anger building at the thought of Lucy Gray being hurt. She was incredibly sweet, even surrounded by her future killers. He didn't understand it, but it creates a feeling of protectiveness to surge through the curly head. At the human-to-human level, not mentor and tribute.

He wondered if he would be used to this protectiveness if his sister survived. His mother would love Lucy Gray, if nothing more than her charismatic personality.

"The girl who you sent the snake on?"

"Daughter of the mayor and the reason we are talking."

She sighed at the recollection that of all the people for Billy to break her heart with, it just had to be Mayfair.

The anger that was beginning to build up was now 100% ready to burst.

"What? She can't do that! The Reaping isn't for personal vendettas i-"

The words died on his tongue as the realization hit him aggressively.

Coriolanus was complaining about rules of sending innocent children into a blood bath. The hypocrisy of the Reaping being used for personal pleasure at others' pain is exactly what it was made for. The entirety of the Hunger Games was a sick lesson of victory in others' misery.

Lucy Gray watched the cogs turn in the blonde-haired head of the teenager across from her and was relieved to see the revelation of reality.

Her motivation for survival in the arena was already high so she can make it back to see the Covey again and watch out for Jessup. But another reason was added in those morning hours. Survive so she can take care of Coriolanus as he did for her. To ensure at least one love story ends happy.

The brunette tried to convince Coryo to go back home so many times throughout the hours he spent in front of the bars with her, but he refused. Even though he was mere feet from where he saw you collapse, his mind wasn't plagued by your unconscious eyes.

Instead, his lips kept on repeating the lively moments he shared with you to the curious Lucy Gray. He appreciated he got to brag about every little thing about you to someone who didn't have some other motive. Even with Tigris, she already knew every detail about you from the aforementioned bragging by her cousin, but she would still listen just to give him some comfort and a shoulder to lean on.

But Lucy Gray forced him to step out of his brooding and focus on that you were okay and made him more comfortable in the revelation of his love. Lucy Gray was thankful she didn't have to spend these days in the humiliating zoo as just an attraction or threat. Coriolanus made her still feel human and a friend. She knew how desperately he wanted to win and yet, not a word of strategy was mentioned. They had the meeting later in the day to discuss. Right now, they both just needed a friend.

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After nearly running back to his decaying home upon seeing the sunlight appear, he changed in a flash. He got too lost into his youthful conversation with Lucy Gray that he nearly forgot of his responsibilities. One being not frightening Tigris at being gone for hours in the middle of the night.

Thankfully for him, Coryo made it through his bedroom door just as Tigris opened hers to get ready for the day. He got ready speedily and grabbed his proposals and neatly packed them away into his bag. Ensuring he had everything he needed, Coriolanus gave a quick kiss on the head to Tigris and sped towards the Capital hospital.

His stomach was grumbling heavily, and he could have benefited from grabbing a few leftover pieces from the breakfasts you always brought. Though he had to decide between sustenance and you.

Not a seconds hesitation.

Coriolanus walked through the pristine doors of the newly built hospital. The hospital was a part of the new reconstruction project for the Capital after the war. Life was finally getting back to normal.

With the infamous charming smile of his towards the receptionist, Coriolanus made his way through the sterile hallway. Upon reaching and subsequently opening the creaking door, Coryo was biting back a boyish laugh.

On the bed lay you, with your head was tilted on top of Arachne's as the forementioned girl curled into your side. Your eyes were awake but quite droopy as you attempted to fight off sleep. A fight you won swiftly as soon as you heard the voice you've been yearning to hear.

"Am I being replaced? Of all people Arachne? Didn't know you were into redheads, y/n."

His smirk was evident and more so as he walked over to your bedside. You turned your head to the left as you looked up to the tall boy with a soft smile playing on your lips.

"Can't be replaced if you were never in her place to begin with."

He mocked offense as Coryo retorted to your still sleepy voice.

"Are you upset that I gave you my bed instead of squishing us? I barely fit on my own, imagine the both of us!"

You already have imagined it actually. Multiple times.

Nothing graphic just a bit of snuggling and giving the smug blonde a good kick in the middle of the night while in deep dreams, of course.

"I just don't want you to be sleeping on the floor. It's cold, Coryo, and has to be awful for your back!"

Coryo knew you were right as the floor was extremely uncomfortable, but the feeling that you were mere arms width away gave him a level of comfort no mattress could provide. He only wished that you were in his arms rather than the distance of them.

"Such is the tragedy of being a gentleman."

He gave you a toothy grin as you laughed lightly, widening Coriolanus's smile even more. The young man got settled at the foot of your bed as he nodded questioningly towards the still sleeping Arachne.

You let out an amused laugh as your fingers began streaming through the now down red hair of the girl in question.

"Said she didn't want to leave me. I don't know why, but I'm not complaining. I've missed her and our friendship."

Coriolanus nodded along and gave no hint of what he was feeling inside. A feeling with the name of suspicion. He wasn't blind to her stares at you. They were icy and envious, or at least they pretended to be. One can't hide the longing for another, no matter how deep it's buried.

The blue stare of Coriolanus Snow moved across the room and landed upon the now crinkled parchment. He nodded in amazement with a proud smile.

"Gaul knows young promise, now doesn't she?"

You stretched forward just enough to smack his leg reprimandingly.

"Don't go getting a big head on me now, Coryo."

"Any bigger and we would have to calculate the surface area."

It seemed just a bit of rest was all that was needed for the notorious Arachne Crane snark to return. She quickly sat up, removed your hands gently, and patted herself up to perfection. As soon as she became presentable enough for public, a kind-looking nurse with honey eyes and light freckles entered.

Arachne froze for a second, fearing she was found out, though you had no fears. Due to her bright and rested attitude, the honey-eyed nurse was clearly working the day shift instead of the scoping night shifts. It only took a few moments and tests to reassure your release. You signed multiple papers that you didn't bother reading, and you were given the clear along with your still-stained academy uniform.

You fully intended on completing your mentor duties today and the following days but completely forgot about the state of your uniform. A quick scan to the clock showed that you didn't have time to go back to your apartment and get a clean spare. An apartment that you weren't even sure was yours anymore. It was most definitely not home.

However, your panicked thoughts must have been heard by your saving angel. An angel that came in the form of the familiar warm brown eyes and curly hair.

In his hands were a spare uniform for you (how he got it, you weren't going to waste the energy on questioning it) and a container filled with sweet treats sent from his ma clearly.

"Sejanus have I ever said how much I loved you?!"

He gave you a warm smile as he passed the clothes off and opened up the beautifully designed container. You quickly grabbed a few of your favorite sweet treats while the rest were offered to Coriolanus and a bit reluctantly, Arachne. The latter squinting at the treats in disgust. The food smelled delicious and looked even more delectable, but district hands still made them.

Though your clear enjoyment of the delicacies as well as the boys', who began quietly talking, Ara grabbed a small treat that has a red tint to it. The taste popped in her mouth and continued to as she fully enjoyed some of the best treats she has ever tried.

You laughed at her reaction and the flustered blush that appeared on the girl's cheeks caused a squint of distrust to frame Coriolanus's eyes and Sejanus's mouth to go agape.

"Since when did she sink her claws into y/n?"

Sejanus was concerned how you could so easily be friendly with the girl who was more than willing to let you die. At least in his eyes.

Coriolanus left the question out into the air as he focused on helping you out of bed, legs a bit shaky. He grabbed the rouge uniform and led you to the connected bathroom. A little interrogation was initiated as he tried to ensure your safety.

While you two were bickering back and forth about your ability to change on your own, an awkward silence firmly took place between Arachne and Sejanus. The brown-eyed boy unabashedly stared holes into the redheads face while she focused on your hospital gown-clad figure.

"Spread my thanks to your mother. She is a wonder with pastries."

Arachne's words were meek as she struggled to pull them out. Twenty-four hours ago, she would never have thought of complimenting district scum- no. Not district scum. District. Maybe scu- you wouldn't approve of that language. Arachne just got you back, she isn't going to lose you again.

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A half-hour passes, and by then, you are fully dressed and walking up the stairs of the academy with Sejanus. Arachne had to rush back home to get her supplies and clean up while Coryo went to drop off both of your proposals to Dr. Gaul. Technically, proposals by three academy students, though you doubted Clemensia put a wink of effort. Especially in her state yesterday.

On a good day, she would be more than happy to let Coriolanus do all the work and take the credit. But in tears and wreck, she needed to leech to survive.

As you walked through the pristine institute, you heard the whispers and felt the hot gazes upon you. The patched-up wounds on your neck felt extra visible and painful as you weaved through the gawking crowds. They eventually settled as the guard dog of yours named Sejanus, gave them a stare to scare the teenagers into silence.

The pair of you moved into Heavensbee Hall, where multiple tables and chairs had been organized into a circular formation. On your way to the academy, Sejanus filled you in on today's events. An hour meeting with the tributes, a fifteen-minute tour of the arena following, and in the evening a presentation paired with an interview of each of the district tributes.

As soon as you stepped into the grand hall, you were enveloped by a pair of arms connected to a certain bead of raven hair.

"Clemmie!! I'm okay, don't worry!"

You were met with no verbal response but rather a rather harsh squeeze by the surprisingly strong girl.

"Okay, I'm not okay because you are actually crushing my body!!"

As you could finally breathe through your lungs, you quietly conversed with your worried friend. It was only after a few moments after that the tributes were brought in as if cattle; each in heavy chains that connected to their peers in front of them in the single file line.

The look in Clemensia's eyes was screaming at you to leave and protect yourself, but all it was met with was a tight-lipped smile. You were making your way to the designated desk for you and Jessup when your path was intercepted.

"Miss Vaun."

Dean Highbottom was not someone you wanted to deal with this early in the morning, especially when the only words coming out of his mouth were subtly crafted mocks and the only thing going in was morphling.

"Such a shame to hear of your incident."

Each word he uttered made you nauseous. His calculated tone was dripping with hidden motives. Casca Highbottom was playing games with you though you had no idea what they were nor why. Though a speculation was that it had something to do with a certain curly-haired blonde who was now walking in your direction with a scowl towards your dean.

"Ah, Mr. Snow, I was beginning to fear you had yet another show to present. It seems the mentors are more the spectacle than the tributes."

The smile Coriolanus gave the bitter man was tight, just like his patience. Dean Highbottom, satisfied with the emotion caused, called for all mentors to join their tributes at their tables as he addressed the room.

"In spite of yesterday’s tragic events, our president has decided that the Games must go on to show everyone the Capitol is unafraid of such acts of terror."

Your cheeks burned as you ducked your head while feeling Jessup's eyes stare at you. Well, everyone's eyes.

"To which end, Dr. Gaul wishes you to preview the arena this afternoon with your tributes. Later this evening, there will be a special televised presentation and interview of each tribute to our audience to get to know them."

You sighed slightly as it was clear that Dr. Gaul liked at least some of your ideas if she implemented the interview and some sort of presentation.

"You will have an hour to discuss strategy. You may begin."

You lifted your head back up to meet the dark brown eyes of Jessup Diggs. You smiled shyly, unsure of where to start. Though there was no need for worry as Jessup was the one to initiate the conversation.

"Those are some nasty cuts."

You, in stark contrast to the solemn room, laughed softly. The boy's tone wasn't harsh or arrogant at seeing your hurt, but rather blunt. It was better than hearing a voice filled with glee at seeing your scars.

"Well now we match, huh?"

You sat back in your chair, getting comfortable. You had an hour ahead of you and the discussion of strategy wasn't going to take long if Jessup was still insistent on not taking medicine. The dark-skinned boy matched your position while you prepared your thoughts.

"You sticking to no medicine?"

His eyes drew over your neck again, seeing how much it has healed due to the remedies. But you didn't have to be locked into an arena filled with killers. He got the bite due to his character and actions, that's how he wanted to die. Not because of scared teenagers who just wanted to go home to their mama.

His silence was an answer enough for you; an answer that didn't surprise you. Jessup was stubborn, and you would bet there were few topics he would be willing to change his mind on. Though, you could never have bet that his mind was starting to change in regards to the children of the Capitol. That not everyone was horrible.

"I can't get you out of the interviews or presentation, but you can keep silent. There is not much they can do to force you. However, if you have something you want to say, feel free."

You knew that his silence would ensure he would have no sponsors, but that didn't matter in his case. The district boy looked a bit taken aback by your last statement and what he could do with it.

"Anything? Isn't that a little dangerous?"

The brunette knew it wasn't dangerous for him as he was already sentenced to death, but what about you? He wasn't sure why he cared, but he did. You seem to try to save anyone you can, an odd trait for a Capitol resident, but true nonetheless. You didn't deserve to get hurt because of his rash actions.

"I can't control your actions, Jessup. You are your own person. Even while this whole situation doesn't have anything to do with you, there is still control you have."

He mulled over your words, and even though it sounded farfetched, it was true. Even a smile appeared on his face as he agreed: he did have control.

You were happy to see that smile and know that he recognized his freedom in the cage. The two of you were content as you sat back and turned simultaneously towards the other District 12 tribute and mentor pair.

Coriolanus and Lucy Gray were not the normal pair. Lucy Gray wasn't sitting quietly or glaring. Coriolanus wasn't sneering or arrogant. Their conversation, a wonder in itself, was mutual. Your heart pulled at the scene, wishing that it could be in different circumstances.

Your head turned back to look at your own tribute, whose head was still turned towards his friend. His eyes were covered in reminiscence and pleas. Pleas that she will survive. That is when an idea came to fruition.

"What if we made a deal?"

Jessup slowly turned his head towards you in apprehension and confusion. What more could you possibly expect from him?

"You do everything you can to stay in control in that arena. Fight off the disease as much as you can because your sanity will disappear. I've seen it firsthand; any piece of Jessup Diggs will be gone. You will become a danger to Lucy Gray. Don't let her eat or drink after you. You could spread it."

Jessup took in what you were saying and agreed but was still confused about what the deal was. What was in this for you?

"Take care of yourself and her in the arena and I will do my best outside of the arena to make sure Lucy Gray goes home."

His brown eyes squinted at you in wonder and uncertainty. You were sincere in your words, but Lucy Gray winning meant more than just her success, and Jessup knew that.

"Why? So your boyfriend can win and spend all the money he doesn't need on your Capitol luxury?"

Your previously relaxed facial expression melted into one of simmering anger. You thrashed your body forward and toned your voice down into a chilled whisper.

"One, he isn't my boyfriend. Two, looks can be deceiving. He desperately needs the money. I know it's hard to believe, but his family is starving, and his grandmother and cousin need him. That's why he works day and night, so don't you dare say he doesn't need the money. You don't know him."

Your tone was laced with venom, and Jessup quickly took the hint. His eyes raked over the fair-skinned boy, and he could see you were right.

He was tall, yes, but skinny. Even kids in twelve weren't that malnourished. Jessup turned back to you with a little smirk, which brought you a sense of unease.

"Very defensive of your 'not boyfriend'."

You opened and closed your mouth while the seeming permanent blush appeared once more. Your lack of defense brought a small joy to Jessup, a feeling he accepted he would never feel again when his name had been called. You took a deep breath before properly explaining your reasoning for your little deal.

"I'm doing this in part for Coriolanus, yes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't. Another part is for Lucy Gray. I've never met anyone like her, and I think that's a universal experience. If I can't save you, I will save her. I won't let your sacrifice be for nothing. We've taken enough from you."

There was silence for a few moments as Jessup processed. He believed you, maybe too easily, but he did. What he couldn't believe is that you were Capitol.

"Don't say that."

"Say what?"

" 'We'. You are not the same as the people who put us here. You aren't like the rest of the mentors."

Your eyes shined with a few tears of gratitude as you struck your hand out. You had a lopsided smile and a laugh as you uttered a singular word.

"Deal?"

A nod and hidden smile were paired with a reciprocated action as your hands shook.

"Deal."

Hands still interlocked, the sound of Dean Highbottom's voice rang out.

"Snow. Dovecote. Vaun."

One last smile was sent toward Jessup as you stepped out and made your trek towards the infamous Dr. Gaul.

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You were right.

Clemensia didn't even know the proposals were written. Well you did cherish your friend, you had to admit Coryo wad far kinder than you would have been if you were in his shoes.

Clemensia vouleentered for this and yet she couldn't make the effort? You didn't appreciate being her excuse when he own excuse was able to get the work done. This wasn't some school project. This was real life and possibly world changing. You hoped, for her sake, Clemensia knew what she got herself into.

The three of you walked into the expansive lab fillied with odd creatures in all sorts of liquids and devices. You watched Coryo walk over to one and tap on its glass as you examined it from afar. Out of thin air, the peculiar woman appeared, slightly startling you and Clemensia.

"The star burns as it is orbited. Flames lick across it's surface while those circulate it with no fear. Fire pours and the star glows!"

You take in the woman's odd words and look to Coryo to confirm she is talking about and your condition from yesterday. She did call you and Coryo stars so it wouldnt be too far fetched. Unlike the head Gamemaker.

"The sun gets orbited, not stars."

You hear Clemmie whisper into your left ear and you sighed.

"Clemmie, the sun is a star."

Dr. Gaul overhead your whispers as she sent a quizzical and nerve wrecking look towards your companion, causing the latter to slightly shiver.

"Come and see my new babies."

The sickly sweet tone of the Gamemaker certainly didn't settle Clemensia's shivers. Your concerned eyes connected with Coryo, who also seemed apprehensive at the offer.

You followed the graying woman to a circular glass tank containing a vast array of slithering colors. You let your hand slide across the glass, oddly satisfied as the snakes followed your fingers.

"Is there a point to the color?"

"There’s a point to everything, Ms. Dovecote, or to nothing at all. Which brings me neatly to your proposals."

You sucked in a breath as you realized you could easily be thrown into the snake tank. But she wouldn't do that if she hated your proposals right? She might.

"Miss Vaun, next time, ask for a hospital room with better lighting. Your handwriting was incredibly messy."

You turned your head slightly in confusion. Should you be happy that's the only she has issues with? Is this her way to get you distracted to easily throw you in with the reptiles without fight? You didn't expect praise but you didn't know what to make of her given comments. Though you were quick to learn you should be greatful for having notably bad hand writing.

"For you two, which one of you actually wrote it?"

Dr. Gaul turned her unnerving gaze upon your friends. You knew who wrote it, so did they, and it seemed like Dr. Gaul had an inkling.

"Well, there was-"

"I was inspired by Coriolanus yesterday, of course. His little betting idea. But the sponsorships and the gifts in the arena, those were all mine."

You stood there shell shocked as you saw the girl unabashedly take credit for work she didn't even give a word to. The betrayal evident on her supposed partners face as he questioned her.

"Clemmie?"

The confusion between you and Coryo was not shared by Dr. Gaul as she was utterly unfazed.

"So it’s your sweaty handwriting on that page. Very impressive, Ms. Dovecote."

You watched as Clemensia proudly smiled at the woman's praises. Dr. Gaul's approval and audible pride in work was never a good sign. Oh how you wished Clemmie could have seen that.

"Unfortunately, my assistant mistook it for trash this morning and lined the shelf of this very terrarium with it. So, please, Ms. Dovecote, retrieve it for us, won’t you?"

All color of the already pale girls face was drained, a recation copied by both you and Coryo. Your brain ran through all the scenarios to get Clemensia our of there or what could have been if you just hadn't spoken up. None of Clemensia's actions were your fault but you couldn't help but step in.

"I can grab them, if that wouldn't be an issue."

A part of you wished you kept quite as the manically calculated eyes of Volumina Gaul met yours.

"Well they are Miss Dovecotes wonderfully inspired ideas. It is best for her to share it with us, isn't that right?"

You could do nothing but nod along, realizing there wouldn't be a way to get your dark haired friend out of this.

Dr. Gaul turned back to address Clemensia, who was clearly holding back screams of panic. A sight that brought a sick sense of satisfaction to the older woman.

"Don’t worry, my little predators are perfectly docile with those they can trust.

So if they’re used to your scent, if you’ve handled their food, for example, or if they’ve inhaled the sweat of your palm on a page, they’ll leave you alone."

The chilling woman curled closer to the panicking teen as she inhaled her fear.

"A new scent, however…

you’d be on your own, little girl."

That soft tone was quickly replaced with the ragged and stone cold demand.

"Retrieve it."

You felt yourself being held back by some force. You weren't running after her. You weren't jumping into the snake pit. You thought it was the fear holding you back, but you felt the familiar arms of Coriolanus Snow ensuring you weren't going to jump into danger yet again. Whether or not you both wanted to admit it, Clemensia got herself into this situation all on her own.

You held on his arms as you watched the mentor's hand go further and further down the pit of vemenous danger covered in an array of bright colors. The tips of her finger brushed against the page unharmed and a slight breath of relief, Clemensia reached fully for the paper.

The scream scratched against the deepest edges of your ears. Corners of your earlobes that haven't been touched since the death of your mother. Why is it that all those who you love have the scream?

"Clemmie, no! NO!"

When the girl jumped back in pain and shock, Coriolanus was quick to move you the way, accidently creating the clear path as she fell off of the slightly elevated platform. The gasped and clawed at her neck as you both rushed to her side, unsuccessful in finding a way to help your suffering Clemmie.

"You asked about the colors, Ms. Dovecote? I want my enemies to see a rainbow of destruction engulfing the world. I’m not above using spectacle to create a little terror."

You saw the vision but could care less as you desperately tried to comfort your friend.

Is this how you looked less than a day ago? Whipering in the floor while your neck is covered in evidence of an attack?

Some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants rushed over to take Clemensia away, having to push you away to do so. You wanted to run after her but was frozen once more by that sick voice.

"A strategy your classmate here articulated very well in his proposal."

The woman's fascinating eyes moved off of the now horrifyingly still form of Clemensia and back to you and Coriolanus.

"They’re good, your suggestions. The both of you. I’m going to recommend my team implement as many as possible tomorrow."

Coriolanus took the shock for the both of you as you were still focused on the now gone squirming figure of Clemensia Dovecote.

"Will she die?"

You didn't know what to expect exactly but of course, the reality of Dr. Gaul was even more appealing.

"The pleasure in breaking ground in one’s research is one gets to find out."

You shivered at her degradation of the girls struggle into a science experiment. You might have made a mistake mixing in with her, no matter the promise it held.

"You better keep Ms. Dovecote’s fate between us. I don’t think her mother would be happy to learn how she caught this sudden… flu."

You and Coryo shared yet another look as alarms rang in your eyes. Would you two be next if you were unsatisfactory?

Any fear picked up from either of you was ignored by the head Gamemaker as she sighed whisfully.

"Now run along, you have an arena to promote and it’s time for my milk and crackers."

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

The arena wasn't far from Dr. Gaul’s laboratory. Only a few streets away, in fact. The entire way was filled with silence between you and Coryo, but it doesn't mean there wasn't communication.

Coryo kept his arm around your waist as you laid your head on his shoulder. He knew what Clemensia's screams reminded you of. He saw the memories flash before your eyes and instinctively scanned Clemmies mouth for any blood. Snow tried to convince you not to go to the arena.

He could look around with both Lucy Gray and Jessup if you wished. But you refused. You wished to tell him of your deal, but you doubted Jessup would inform Lucy Gray, so it would only be fair if you kept quiet for now.

When the pair of you reached the arena, the rest of your classmates and tributes were lined up, waiting for you two. How they knew Clemensia wasn't coming, you weren't sure, but as soon as you and Coriolanus ran all the way to the front where District 12 was held, you began the walk-in.

Coryo was in front of you as you took shallow breaths while walking into the area where you knew only one of the 23 kids would walk out. Your focus was on the blonde curls and square shoulders of your Coryo. Your Coryo. This was a very bad timing for this very sudden thought to appear.

Thankfully, or not, the robotic female voice poured out of the speakers as Coriolanus and Lucy Gray crossed the gates.

"Enjoy the show!"

Of course, it had to say that.

"Enjoy the show!"

The voice continued to repeat itself as the rest of the pairs walked in, along with a few peacekeepers. You watched as Festus directed camera crews to focus on the still sneering Coral. Sneers that were being sent pointedly in your direction. You looked over to Jessup, who seemed to be slightly dazed.

"Jessup?"

The boy turned to you, and it took him a moment for recognition to flash before his eyes. You gulped as you realized that Jessup won't be able to keep his side of the offer for long. But you were determined to keep yours up until the end.

The thought made you turn to the girl you wished to protect. She looked scared and has full reason to. She turned to Coriolanus with pleading eyes. You took a breath and nodded to whatever her request was. She looked back around, still apprehensive. Coryo could have followed her gaze, but instead, he met yours.

In the very same place where half of the inhabitants of the space will be dead starting tomorrow, he looked so calm. He looked worried and was scheming in his brain when he was talking to Lucy Gray, but when he met your eyes? He looked so at peace. You could be imagining it, but that smile was so, so real.

A true and lovesick smile. A smile that grew with every second that you met his gorgeous blue eyes. A smile that you matched in tandem. Young and in love. Lovesick looks across the battlefield.

To be in love during war is the worst casualty of them all.

The sound of heartbreak was the only sound that was more shattering than the explosions that blew around you all.

⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆⋇⋆✦⋆

a/n: please don't send dr. gaul to my house because i tool FORVER to finally upload this! thank you so much for the wait and support loves, it means the world! pls lmk what you all think💓

@notyourwildestdream 🌹@darktrashsoulbear🌹@fantasylovestoryme 🌹@nekee-lilac02 🌹@a-avengerparker 🌹 @queenofshinigamis 🌹@darlingisntit 🌹 @scarletstarrs 🌹

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angelsanarchy · 5 months

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Glass Houses: Jack Thurlow x Y/N Series CH 22 -> CH 23

Tagging:@roryculkinluvr@thatsthewrongwallcraig@icarus-star @cc-luvr @madamemaximoff06@shady-the-simp @quicksilversg1rl @s-0lar @kristennero-wallacewellsver@ophelialaufey @mayathepsychic1999 @x-prettyboy-x @rorylover71 @auggiethecreator @tempt-ress @blacksoul-27

TW: Mutual Masturbation, Fingering, Jerking Off

Jack had gone home and practically paced waiting for Y/n to call. He knew she wasn't coming around until later but he was excited to spend time with her. He watched the clock and tried to work on a few pages to pass the time but once he heard the knock at the front door, he practically broke his foot trying to run down the steps.

"Hey! Sorry I'm late, I didn't want to come straight over in my scrubs." Y/n let herself in and looked freshly showered but exhausted.

"That's fine, we can play it low key tonight and actually go out when you get a day off." Jack smiled gesturing towards the living room. She plopped down on one side of the couch and Jack followed suit on the opposite end. He had already ordered food and told her to get comfortable. She noticed he had his laptop sitting on the coffee table and gestured towards it.

"How's the writing going?" She asked kicking her shoes off so she could rest her feet on the couch next to Jack's leg.

"It's going pretty well, I had to keep myself busy today so I got a few pages written." Jack confessed making Y/n smile.

"Can I read some of it?" She asked carefully. Jack hesitated for a moment before passing her the laptop. He watched her read the pages, taking a mental note of her eyes scanning the words and chewing on her lip.

"Jack...this is really good. I mean it's dark as hell and I know it's supposed to be about your life but it's really good." Y/n looked up from the laptop and Jack's eyebrows went up.

"You think so? I mean it's a first draft but-" Y/n leaned the screen down to look at Jack.

"Shut up and take the compliment." She moved to sit next to him and scrolled through his pages to point things out

"I love how the story teller is framing these events in his life as small signs of what's to come. As if his path was predetermined by the actions of his father, an avalanche of tragedy." Jack just stared at her in amazement. He moved towards her to kiss her but the sound of the doorbell stopped him. Y/n laughed realizing he was going to kiss her.

"Should have ordered the food a little sooner." She smirked. He pushed up from the couch and grabbed the food. They fell into comfortable conversation about random things from the book to the chaos his appearance at her work caused. Jack had no regrets and was glad that there were people who kept her mind on him throughout the day.

"You're such a cocky punk. You knew my boss was going to eat you up with a spoon." Y/n shoved Jack with her foot and he caught it with his hands.

"How could I possibly know your boss was an older woman? I just do really well with older women." Jack bragged rubbing her feet. He could see that it was providing relief and kept massaging her foot.

"Now you're just distracting me with a nice...foot massage. Fuck your hands are strong." She hissed.

"Am I hurting you?" He stopped and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"No it feels great, don't stop." Jack laughed continuing to rub her feet.

"This is not what I thought I would be doing for you to say that." Jack teased. Y/n let out a laugh and rested her head on the back of the couch to look at him.

"Yeah? I take it the new meds are treating you well?" Y/n asked making Jack nod.

"I haven't started them yet. I'm afraid I won't be able to get off now if I change them now." Jack explained and Y/n shook her head.

"I can always take my shirt off if you're feeling repressed. Don't sacrifice your sanity and sleep for an orgasm, Jack." She sat up on her elbows and he laughed.

"Honestly I'm not even sure it would work if I tried to fuck anyone. For now, it works for me exclusively." Jack felt comfortable talking to Y/n about these sorts of things. He didn't know if it was because he was attracted to her or if it was because they had talked openly about the medications.

"Well then lets test it out." Y/n pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor. Jack stopped rubbing her feet, allowing her to pull her legs back towards herself so she could unbutton her jeans and slid them just below her ass.

"Does this make you uncomfortable?" Y/n asked partially exposed. Jack could feel his dick stiffen and he shook his head, unbuttoning his jeans and show her the tent that was in his boxers.

"Not anymore." He said rubbing his cock on top of the fabric.

"You might want to take your shirt off...in the event you cum, I'd hate for you to stain one of your emo shirts." Y/n teased putting her fingers in her mouth. Jack can see her pussy as she pushes her panties to the side to finger herself. One hand pinched her nipples as she continued to play with her clit. He was so hard now, all he could do was stroke himself. Watching Y/n's fingers move in and out of her glistening pussy made him think about what it would feel like to have her ride him right here on the couch, her tits bouncing in his face as she fucked herself on his cock. He groaned freeing his cock, spitting on his hand and mixing that with the precum on the tip so he could have the feeling of skin to skin contact.

"Your cock looks even better when its hard. I fucking knew it would." Y/n bit her lip adding a third finger and letting her head fall back.

"Fuck..you can't...you can't say shit like that or I'm going to cum entirely too soon." Jack complained stroking himself faster.

"I wasn't aware we were being timed. I'm going to get off, when I get off." Y/n laughed watching Jack's chest rise and fall trying to catch his breath.

"Fuck I want to cum on your tits so bad." Jack said jaw dropping slightly staring at her tits bouncing with her rigorous hand movements. She used her free hand to pop the front of the bra open letting her tits spill out.

"Oh fuck." Jack moaned. He couldn't help but want to bury his face between them. Y/n continued to whine loudly and Jack wanted to be the one who pulled those sounds from her.

"Don't be shy Jack. I want to hear you." Y/n begged.

"I want to fuck you into this couch. I want to cum inside of you until it's running down your legs. I want to feel you cum around my cock." Y/n moaned Jack's name as she found her release, rubbing her clit and making her knees jump together as she pushed herself to keep touching sensitive bits. Jack could feel his orgasm building, eyes shut trying to get there. He was afraid if he got distracted he would embarrass himself and be unable to cum.

"Jack...open your eyes and look at me. I want you to look at me when you cum. I want you to know that the next time you cum, it will be down my throat." Jack watched Y/n take her wet fingers and put them in her mouth.

"Fuck!" Jack cried milking his cock until he was cumming all over the front of his shirt, almost hitting his neck. He slowed his hand down, feeling the jump of the sensitive tip as he grazed it.

It was silent for a few moments as they both looked at each other and started laughing.

"You're a fucking freak." Jack shook his head.

"And you love every second of it." Y/n stuck her tongue out at him.

"You also should have taken your shirt off." She reminded him pointing at the cum that was already starting to dry on his black shirt. She leaned forward to crawl towards him on the couch and Jack worried she might try to go for a second round.

"No worries, I'm not pushing the boundaries. I just wanted to give you something." Y/n leaned forward and kissed Jack carefully not to startle him of make him anxious. She let her tongue run along his own before pulling away.

"I wanted to say thanks and congratulations on the orgasm. It was great." She smiled in his face and he returned it.

"I also wanted to give you a little taste of what you're in for if you're down for a second date." Jack could taste her on his tongue and nodded.

"Is the first date already over?" He asked curiously and she laughed putting her head down for a moment.

"I don't want to make you feel cheap but if I don't go home now, I'll be too tired to walk home." She explained. Jack knew how tired she was and this probably only made it worse.

"It's okay. I completely understand." Jack put himself back in his jeans and watched Y/n pull her shirt over her head, not bothering to put her bra back on. He walked her to the door and she turned to look at him.

"This was a lot of fun Jack. I'm glad I said yes to a first date." Y/n smiled sweetly at him and he blushed.

"I'm pretty glad you said yes too. Let me know when you get home." Jack said rolling his eyes knowing that she was going to make a smartass remark about being across the street. She kissed his cheek and gave his hand a squeeze before walking out the door. Jack watched her walk down the drive and towards her house before shutting the door and running his hands down his face trying to take in what had just happened. He couldn't help but smile thinking about the night as a whole. He hadn't remembered having that much fun in one night with someone ever. He ran his hands down his shirt and felt his cum streak down his shirt more.

"Dammit." He cussed at himself knowing this shirt wasn't ruined but knowing he would get hard every time he wore it.

#Jack Thurlow #Jack Goes Home #Jack Thurlow x Y/n #One Shot Series #Glass Houses Series #Rory Culkin #Culkin Cult #Glass Houses #22/38

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valyrfia · 19 days

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Hello! I came to ask you to please write that essay you mentioned about how Charles is feminized in the fics, but you already beat me to it hahahah. Pero he de decir que coincido contigo en que se asigna una estructura heteronormativa a la dinámica de pareja y Charles acaba asumiendo el rol femenino, lo que se percibe como algo negativo debido en gran medida a la misoginia internalizada.

Personalmente, como ávido consumidor de fanfics, estas son caracterizaciones con las que siempre me encuentro y, francamente, me molestan. En el caso de Charles, lo describen como sumiso, ingenuo y con baja autoestima, en resúmenes con un carácter “débil”. Sinceramente no le veo nada malo si es con fines narrativos, pero el hecho de que muchos fanfics solo lo describan así o asuman que esa es su personalidad da mucho que pensar, sobre todo porque ignoran otros aspectos de La personalidad de Charles (o bueno, lo poco que sabemos sobre la personalidad de Charles, ya que no debemos olvidar que no lo conocemos y Charles solo muestra lo que quiere mostrar).

En fin, sólo decirte que valoro mucho tus reflexiones. 💕💕💕

Hi anon! I'm glad you agreed, and I agree with your points too. My issue is, and continues to be, when people can't divorce the narrative from the real person and these characterisations carry over into spaces where they shouldn't be. I'm going to expand wider than just RPF here and say the narrative around Charles' generally is sometimes a little much. Take this whole "haunted by tragedy" thing that Sky Sports was having a little too much fun with this weekend, with Damon Hill saying that the reason why Charles wasn't driving well was because he was distracted by grief? Sure, it makes for a good narrative to sell on your sports channel, but doesn't fit with the image of Charles who won Baku in F2 the weekend after his father died, and won his maiden grand prix the day after a childhood friend of his died.

It's so easy for all of us, fans to news pundits to talk about Charles battling with the circumstances of his life, whether it be those he's lost, or Ferrari being like a toxic ex he can never quite seem to leave, that it strips him of recognition of his own agency in a lot of ways. Charles has shown incredible mental strength in his life, and lest we forget, literally girlbossed his way to a legendary Ferrari contract. I got a few anons calling Charles mentally weak for not disobeying team orders in Japan, and I couldn't disagree more. This is a racing driver approaching his prime, who knew he could not defend on 20 lap newer tyres but ran an incredible race nonetheless. Charles is not a damsel in distress, he's an agent completely in control of his own destiny.

Speaking of destiny, the il predestinato nickname slaps, but I think is incredibly misleading for some people sometimes. When Charles wins a world championship, it won't be because he is 'destined' or 'fulfilling some prophecy', it will be due to his own choices, his own skill, his own talent, his own hard work. I think that Charles as a WDC is going to get hit with a VERY different narrative than the one we see now, one that acknowledges his hard work and agency in making his dream come true.

#charles leclerc #anon #asks

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sad-ghost-of-garbage · 9 months

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David and Laddie Drabble

This is just part of my personal take on the dynamics of the boys and a bit of my headcannons about their pasts.

This is just a funky little drabble about David's role in caring for Laddie when he first joined the boys'. This does mention the boys being poly! with each other. And it gets sad at the end.

Dwayne can’t wake up in the middle of the day due to still being a relatively young vampire, and he isn’t used to having to wake up in the middle of his day sleep. David on the other hand is head vampire, leader of his pack and has always had to keep vigilant. As the oldest, he has the ability to wake during the day (and not just immediately go back to sleep). When David saves Laddie, (at Dwayne’s request) he tells Dwyane that the kid was entirely his responsibility. David of course didn’t mean it, he would take care of every member of his pack, but he wanted Dwayne to understand his responsibility. With all of that said, guess who was waking up in the middle of the day to comfort the crying child? David. David would wake to the tiny sniffles of a tear cheeked child, he would fly down from the “roost” into the boys room, scoop Laddie into his arms and sit with him. He would shush the boy's cries and comfort him from nightmares or anything that prevented the young halfling from sleep. On numerous occasions Dwayne would awaken at dusk to find his sire asleep with the boy curled up and snoring on his chest. Dwayne would never tell but he was thankful that his sire was willing to step up where he couldn’t; it’s what Dwayne admired about David, what drew him to the vampire, what made him fall for David. David’s love and loyalty to family, his family, is what made Dwayne drink from David. Becoming a part of David's family. David provided Dwayne the family he dreamed of having, and while he never intended to have a kid he’s glad David agreed to save the boy.

After the tragedy of ‘87, David became even more vigilant during the daylight hours, rarely actually sleeping at all. David blames himself for letting the allure of Michael become a distraction from protecting his boys. He will never forgive himself for what happened to his boys. He punishes himself constantly by never allowing himself to sleep. The others can tell how hard David treats himself, he’s different… stricter, more paranoid, and definitely not himself. He distanced himself from the boys, feeling undeserving of their affections after he “failed” them. Michael ruined David, took his love and destroyed it. David doesn’t love the way he did before Michael. And the boys hate it, the boys just want their David back.

Tagging: @britany1997 @henhouse-horrors Thank you for supporting my writing! If anyone wants to be added to my TLB writing list just let me know.

#sgog writes #the lost boys 1987 #david tlb #dwayne tlb #the lost boys #poly! Lost boys

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king-paimon · 2 months

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Houseki no Kuni Chapter 106 Thoughts: Bon Voyage...

Hello all. I hope these last few months have been kind to you in some way. These months have been... a lot. Some very good things happened, and some very bad. I wish we lived in a world were tragedies were just fiction, but that sadly isn't the case. I won't elaborate, but I promise, I'm okay. I just hope 2024 improves, though I know for many others, just hoping isn't enough.

I'm sorry for this late post. Once again, real life had me so distracted that I honestly forgot about Houseki no Kuni's chapter coming out this month. I only remembered when I saw activity around my older HnK posts.

Well, I finished reading the chapter and it was very beautiful and sad in different ways. I'll share more of my thoughts, though I don't think it'll be as long or detailed as my previous ones to be honest... Though I could be wrong! We'll see how it fairs. And who knows? Maybe I'll make another post to dissect this chapter further. But for now, I'll just write whatever comes to mind and try to make it as coherent as possible. I hope you like it. And as always, please feel free to share your own thoughts!

Here we go!

Thunderous Spectacle: The Final Journey

Once again, Ms. Haruko Ichikawa decided to flex her art skills by making beautiful, bombastic illustrations that encapsulates the chaos that is happening on Earth. And the ship departing looks straight out of a sci-fi movie; my mind went to Star Trek when I first saw those pages. Maybe Dune would be more appropriate; I actually don't know, I haven't read or watched Dune, though I hear it's very good.

I wish I had more to say about the visuals for this chapter, but I think they speak for themselves. I will say though...It's moments like this when I marvel... this was originally about a silly gem child trying to find their place in the world. And this is how their journey is finally coming to an end. Almost nothing is recognizable. This certainly was not how I thought this story, or specifically Phos' story, was going to unfold. I wonder if this was Haruko Ichikawa's plan from the beginning? Who can say...

Speaking of plans... Let's talk about Phos's and Eyeball's conversation.

Manipulation or Consideration: Humanity's Parting "Gift"

That was an interesting conversation Eyeball and Phos had when they were finishing up putting the little pebbles onto the ship. I think I remember stating in the last post how I thought it was odd that the Lunarians had this ship prepared for Phos. I'm glad this was somewhat addressed, but the conversation reveals that there was more behind this literal Deus ex Machina ship.

(I will never stop calling it that)

So if I'm understanding Eyeball's logic, Adamant and the Lunarians were considering Phos in the end? That after Phos fulfilled their last duties to the remnants of humanity that they'd be given the chance to leave the planet with whatever species came about before the planet died- Oh. Wait.

Wait.

Was this the thing that Adamant and Aechmea were alluding to back in chapter 96???

Oh my goodness, I think it was.

As I was typing this and going over some of the saved pages I had from the previous chapters, I saw the one with Euclase and I suddenly remembered their weird conversation with Adamant and Aechmea. I also remembered wondering what the heck they meant in the later chapters since their plan for Phos seemed to only be self serving.

HUH.

( Please let me know if I'm way off! For all I know, I could be making stuff up, but oh my goodness, when I made that connection AAaahh)

This was not how this portion was originally going to go, but there you go. I was going to talk about how twisted but not surprising how calculated everything was from the the Lunarians and the other ruminants of humanity's end. And I was also going to mention how the Doctor also fit into this since she was also calculated and manipulative in her own ways. Despite the different forms it takes, humanity didn't seem to change much in this world...

I was also going to originally say that the Deus ex machina ship feels like a backhanded "gift" for Phos, especially after everything that happened to them. And though I still feel that way, after thinking back to chapter 96, I'm now starting to see Phos's perspective of this gift. That despite everything that they put them through, Phos's former families still left this parting gift for them so they could live on elsewhere after they are long gone and when Phos was free from their duties. It's still a backhanded gift in my opinion, but it showed that they cared... at least a bit.

And the fact that their plan also included Eyeball is just wow. I do not blame his small, comedic outburst for that realization. He was manipulated too from the getgo!

At least in the end, Phos chose not to go into the ship. Phos intended to burn that bridge. Even though this thought was implanted by Sensei, Adamant, and the Lunarians, Phos still made that choice on their own and they are owning it. It's bittersweet, though, because regardless of whether or not they stayed or went, Phos's decisions were still a result of them being manipulated one way or another. Pretty much a lose-lose kind of situation, but at least the choice that Phos chose in the end still aligned with what they wanted in they end.

They are giving Eyeball and the little pebbles a chance for a fresh start while Phos can finally end the cycle... By taking humanity and himself to bitter end...

Or does he?

Goodnight, Phosphophyllite

The final farewell between Phos and Eyeball was touching. In a last minute decision to give Phos closure and in an act of true salvation, Eyeball took the last piece of Phos with him. The true remaining piece of Phosphophyllite. To me, this action felt more earnest and heartwarming than the Deus Ex Machina Ship (but that's just me).

What will happen with that piece of Phosphophyllite? Who knows? Maybe that piece will gain sentience and live a peaceful life with the pebbles? A life free of all the constraints as well as the freedoms that was intentionally and unintentionally reinforced within societies created by the former remnants of humanity? I suppose we'll have to wait and see.

As for the Phos that was left behind? The Phos that we've watch evolve from the beginning to end? They will finally rest.

They will finally, and truly be free.

(Albeit in a seemingly not so pleasant way?? Well, they weren't complaining so maybe the lava and other harsh elements isn't hurting them. I hope that's the case.)

I had the feeling that this chapter will be the last time we see Phos, or at least this version of Phos, and it would be a sad but proper send off.

But after seeing THIS at the end, I'm not so sure:

Of course Haruko Ichikawa decides to be cheeky with that little note. Ma'am. Why did you say this???

Is this her roundabout way of saying that Phos is kind of back to square 1? Of being the lonely, jobless Phos who no longer has a purpose and is left with nothing to do but "think." That's pretty funny/messed up joke if that's what she's hinting at.

But again, we'll have to wait and see.

WELP. That's all I have for you all. I hope you enjoyed my ramblings and I'd love to hear what you thought about this chapter. We're nearly at the end of this saga. We're are almost there...

Please be worth it.

#houseki no kuni #land of the lustrous #hnk #lotl #hnk spoiler #hnk spoilers #hnk manga #lotl spoilers #hnk meta #hnk phos #personal thoughts #hnk chapter 106 #hnk chapter 96 #hnk analysis #story analysis #long post #meta post

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arminsumi · 10 months

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˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱ BEYOND THE SEA

Armin x fem!reader

Chapter index / Chapter Ⅳ: Farewell

Overview; the eve of the Scout's farewell party. Contents; 1940s au, fluff, romance, drama

Warnings; angst, tragedy

TAGLIST; @sad-darksoul @crazychaoticizzy @ringsofsaturnnnn

DM in my askbox to be added to taglists! 💕

Asking you to attend the Scout's farewell party was incredibly bold and risky, given the circumstances between you and Armin as well as the turbulent climate between Eldians and Marleyans at the time.

But the Lieutenant was excited – boyishly excited. His eyes had a sparkling quality about them that had once been lost.

When the eve of the Farewell party came, Armin craned his neck around searchingly; all the graceful dancers and tumbling drunkards created a loud and inviting atmosphere in the Scout's old headquarters. What better place to have a party than an old, grand castle?

The splendorous environment was wasted on the Lieutenant, who longed for the company of a particular nurse...

"Armin," Eren spoke to get Armin's attention, "Stop extending your neck like a goose. The Commander is approaching us." he said. "Right, sorry." Armin replied, ceasing his futile search for your face in the crowd.

"Not fond of dancing?" the Commander asked as he approached them, Levi at his side. "Not really, Sir." Eren replied.

"But young men like yourselves should be dancing the night away. Save your seriousness for the frontlines." the Commander said. Eren only shrugged, and Armin only wanted to dance if it was with you.

They held simple conversation with the Commander and the Captain, but Armin's attention was snatched by your entrance. You strode into the party from across the room, arm-locked with Maggie, clad in a dress that drove Armin's senses wild. He had to draw in a steadying breath.

As you wove through the crowd to the place where Armin and the others were gathered, Armin overheard a snippet of your banter with Maggie that amused him.

"Y/n, don't pull that expression!"

"What expression?"

"The expression of an old woman who's yearning for her doting Lieutenant."

"An old woman!? Oh, Maggie, with how much you insult me, it's amazing that we're still friends."

Armin smiled.

Commander Erwin noticed Armin's lacking attention. "Lieutenant, has something distracted you?" he asked. Armin nearly jumped.

"No, sir!" he replied quickly.

Erwin knew exactly what had caught his soldier's eye. "Don't just stand and stare; go ask the young miss to dance." he said.

Armin acted a fool, "The young miss?" he questioned.

"The one you have eyes for." Erwin said, "Nurse Y/n is her name, am I right?"

Armin went pink. "Yes sir, she is Nurse Y/n."

Connie laughingly ragged on Armin about embarrassing himself with the Commander. "You thought you could fool the mastermind?" Connie pointed out. "Anyways, who is this young miss that you have eyes for?" he teased Armin.

You had already taken to the dance floor with Maggie. Armin waited, wading through the partiers, looking much like a sailor lost at sea. His eyes lit up when you emerged, breathlessly, with Maggie from the dance floor; "Lieutenant!" you called for him, immediately joining his group of Eren, Connie and a famous soldier who you had only known by name before: Mikasa.

Armin fell into your charm right away. "Nurse Y/n – and Maggie – I'm so glad to see the two of you here tonight." he said politely, trying not to give your dress another desirous look-over.

Though Armin was eager to swing onto the dance floor with you, he patiently participated in a long and arduous group conversation. Finally, Maggie piped up, "Lieutenant, why are you not dancing? You have the perfect partner standing right next to you, and she seems bored stiff."

You stuttered and scolded Maggie for being too forward, but Armin felt immense appreciation for her forwardness; he couldn't have asked you himself. He felt too boyish about it.

Just before he took to the dance floor with you, he caught a snippet of a conversation between the Commander and the Captain who were idly drinking champagne nearby;

"Levi, don't be like that. They're just young lovers sharing one last night of bliss. Let them have it."

Armin felt his heart panging in his chest.

For you and Armin, at the time, it was frowned upon to hold hands, yet he held yours tight. It was frowned upon to dance, yet he swayed with you. It was frowned upon to be too close to one another, yet you and him were cheek-to-cheek.

Maybe those reasons made it all the more exhilarating.

In a book written about you and Armin decades later, Mikasa wrote; the Lieutenant and Nurse Y/n were forbidden from loving each other, yet there they were that night; looking at each other with a shared tenderness. It was beautiful to witness their love before it was tainted with shame and tragedy.

"Oh, Eren! Why are you not dancing? It's so much fun." you asked, as you and Armin emerged from the dance floor.

Armin chuckled, "You will never get him to dance." he said. "Is that so?" you looked at Eren.

Maggie piped up, "How miserable! You have the opportunity to dance with a dozen different beauties tonight, yet here you sit?"

Eren bore a stony expression at her, so Armin parroted the Commander's words to him; "Save your seriousness for the frontlines and have some fun tonight, Eren."

"Yes! Come on, join us." you encouraged him, adding: "You need to make good memories while you have the chance."

Armin contemplated why you might have said that. And then he responded, "Exactly, we need memories of a heavenly night like this to reminisce on when we're thrown into hell."

"That's true." you looked at him meaningfully.

He looked at you with a sort of glad melancholy that only a soldier could have at a farewell party.

Just before going to dance, Armin heard you let out a dreadful gasp.

"My father! Oh, what is he doing here?" you panicked, wringing your hands anxiously. Armin felt the urge to reach out and hold them.

Perhaps it was scandalous – even a bit cowardly – to grab your arm and make a break for it across the crowd. "Let's go." he said. "Let's 'go'?" you questioned.

In a flash of childlike naughtiness, the two of you escaped your approaching father; he did not even see a strand of your hair as you snuck away right under his nose with the Lieutenant.

The forbiddingness of it all made it all the more exhilarating, though neither of you addressed nor admitted it to yourselves or each other.

"I must say, it's quite unbecoming of the Head Chief's daughter to be running away with the Commander's best soldier." you laughed breathlessly.

You and Armin panted after running out the castle to the courtyard fountain. A long path stretched out to meet an overgrown garden.

"Soldier?" Armin teased you, "What happened to 'Lieutenant'?"

Your eyes glittered at him. "I'm sorry, my Lieutenant." The moon made you two feel drunk, or maybe it was just the aftereffect of narrowly escaping your condemning father.

From afar, you could hear the ballroom resounding with joy and laughter. It faded away, the symphonic night creatures overriding it. The both of you quietly marveled the entrance to the garden; it was like a labyrinth made just for lovers who needed privacy.

"This castle used to be the old Scout's headquarters." Armin told you as you and him entered through the rusted gates. "My first mission as a Scout was to clean the whole damn thing, head to toe."

"Really!" you laughed, "That sounds like a dangerous first mission for a kid to take on." you teased.

Armin nodded, "Yeah, it was quite frightening."

The two of you found a spot under a wildly growing oak tree; the overgrowth of daisies caught Armin's eye, and he went over to them to pluck one for you.

Armin wasn't a confident man, not even in his prime; he realized in old age that he really just faked his confidence until he believed he was confident. A forced courage ran through his veins on the eve of the Farewell party, because he thought this was the last night he would see you in months, maybe even years. Of course, it wasn't, but you have to understand that at the time, when war was knocking on the doorstep, everything felt hopeless and bleak, even during moments of bliss.

Though time was flowing as fast to him as it does when observing an hourglass' sand running down, Armin tried his best to savor every moment. He let nothing take his eyes off of you.

"Lieutenant, I'm disappointed. You've been staring at me all night and yet you haven't made one comment on my dress." you teased him.

He held back a smile in a futile attempt to remain somewhat soldierly and formal. "Well, all night, I've been wondering how I should tell you that you look divine." he replied truthfully.

You felt warmth across your cheeks, tingling on the crown of your ears.

A small silence passed.

"Maggie and I spent a whole day resewing them. Ah and for what... it doesn't frame my figure well at all." you said dejectedly.

"Actually, I think it frames your figure perfectly." Armin said, voicing his mind.

You stuttered. "Oh my..."

He went pink in the face. "I'm sorry! That was too forward of me..." he said and shamefully lowered his gaze.

"It's alright." you smiled at him.

Something in the air changed. The privacy of the garden brought an intimate stillness over the two of you.

A long silence passed.

"My father didn't want me to come tonight." you said quietly, lowering your head in shame.

You and him drew as close to each other as you desired. No prying eyes were there to judge.

You added, "He and I had a fight this morning. My father's completely condemned us." you said, emphasizing 'us' enough for Armin to understand.

He heard how your throat constricted as you spoke. There was so much he wanted to say but either he couldn't or he didn't know how to.

"Lieutenant..." you whispered, stifling a small sob. He brought you closer, damning your father in his head – never aloud, he had too much respect to speak ill of him to your face.

"It's okay." Armin reassured you, drawing closer to your wettened face. "We'll keep this a secret." he said, and stroked stray tears off your cheeks.

His touch was a cooling contrast against your hot cheeks; it reminded you of dipping your hand in a river during hot Marleyan summers as a child.

You laughed through your tears, "Oh, Lieutenant, I really shouldn't let myself be enamored by you. What if you die out there? Would your soul even be able to rest peacefully?"

Armin looked at you contemplatively, remaining silent for a while before speaking again. "If I die, it will be alright, because I will die with this memory of you. And that's all I could want."

He pressed a kiss to your quivering lips.

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ateez-himari · 7 months

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NEW K-DRAMA: WHERE WE FALL

Warning: Talks of survivor's guilt, and reference to dark thoughts

[Sunshine Duo taking on Heart Wrenching Roles]

On September 29 a new Korean drama series made its way onto the big screens starring two idols from K-Pop group ATEEZ, main dancer Jeong Yunho and lead vocalist Min Himari.

When nineteen year old Aerin (Min Himari) finds herself as the sole survivor of a mysterious house fire that claimed her twin brother's (Lee Do Hyun) life due to a late practice that had kept her from going home, she can't help but to feel as though she should have died with him, as though she should have saved him. Despite countless therapists reaching out after the tragedy it seemed as though nothing or no one could pull her through this case of survivor's guilt nor help dissipate the visions of her brother appearing in her daily life all the way into insomnia inducing nightmares. Once a bright presence she begins turning to seclusion and unhealthy activities to distract herself from the overwhelming grief, much to her best friend Jae-Won's (Jeong Yunho) despair. The more he reaches out to her, the angrier Aerin begins to get with him and the further she pushes him away, her actions growing in recklessness by the day. But Jae-Won refuses to give up on her. Will he manage to save her...or will she drag him down with her when she finally falls off the deep end ?

The bandmates appeared in the magazine 'Singles Korea' in order to promote the series where they later met with an interviewer who talked with them about their experience. When asked about the difficulty of portraying a character with such a dark and complex story, Himari said "I was really nervous at first because I wasn't sure if I could convey such a complex mental health struggle so I monitored every scene very closely to make sure I had every detail down."

Much like the maknae, Yunho shared similar feelings of nervosity regarding his role by stating "Even though it wasn't my first acting project, the concept was much darker than Imitation's so I found it to be a really intimidating role. The longer filming went on though, the easier it became to sink myself into the story and my character."

(Spoiler ahead)

The pair agreed that one of the most memorable scenes was the last argument in which Aerin steps onto her apartment's balcony ledge only to be stopped by a horrified Jae-Won, leading the girl to finally break down in front of her best friend after a few moments of protest. In their opinion the key point in this part of the drama is the embrace they share, Jae-Won's hands running down Aerin's body in order to comfort her whilst she clings on to him for dear life, pulling herself as close as possible to the man who had so desperately fought to save her. "Even after the director yelled 'cut', Hima(ri) was still holding on to me and crying, that's how emotional the scene was" said Yunho. "I found this very...draining in a way because I found many similarities between our experiences so the story took me over completely. At the end I had no idea why I was crying, I just couldn't stop." Himari added.

Something that a lot of fans are most likely wondering about whilst watching the series is how everything was filmed despite their tour's grueling schedule, not to mention side activities. According to both actors this project had been in the works for quite a while now so they had filmed majority of it prior to their schedules, what little was left being filmed on days off. Himari's view on it is "Even though it was a tiring project at times I feel like it was worth every moment because it was an amazing experience. I'm also very proud of what we created and I hope the fans will enjoy it too." To this, Yunho agreed and continued with "I'm glad we got to see it through to the end and am really thankful to be given an opportunity to take on a more challenging role. I personally can't get tired of the story no matter how many times I had read and monitored it."

Finally it was noted that they also had quite the romantic tension throughout the series, one that even ended with the two of them sharing a kiss amidst their tears. The strong on screen chemistry was explained by Himari "It was slightly awkward at first to be close in such an intimate manner but I feel comfortable with him (Yunho) and we're very close in real life so we managed to work through it." They both recalled being flustered whilst reading the script and having to film this scene more than any others as they kept shying away or laughing. Yunho said "Having her on my lap was already very...strange but then when production said we had to kiss we couldn't seem to keep our composure."

Overall the hard work and emotions put into this series by its actors is sure to capture viewers' hearts to bring them into a rollercoaster of emotions. Stream 'Where We Fall' on Netflix.

#ateez 9th member #ateez au #ateez extra member #ateez female member #ateez imagines #kpop oc

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disgruntled-foreign-patriarch · 1 year

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So this Soros-backed, patently leftist DA who seemingly made his entire carrer about criminal law reform and refusing to prosecute even minor felons... Suddenly finds the time and willpower to ramrod 34 counts of felony through a terrified Grand Jury.

Under any other situation and with any other individual, many of the charges would have been misdemeanors. In fact. the very timing of said indication is deeply fishy.

How so? Glad you asked!

The Deep State heralds not only a recent national tragedy (Trans creature specifically kills Christian adults and children because of their Christianity), but also the revelation (backed up by a building avalanche of evidence) that the family of and including the sitting President have been bought and paid-for by the hostile CCP for decades.

These are all serious issues, but don't let them distract you from the true focus: the attempted ideological elimination/subjugation by a "Ruling Regime" deployed against its (perceived) greatest political opponent.

It makes me ashamed to see how deeply my country has fallen from its founding ideals.

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sorryimananti-romantic · 1 month

Note

hi! i just wanted to come on here to firstly ask a question, then praise your work!

first, my question is what’s your writing process? whenever i try to write, i always end up getting distracted because i worry so much about how i start the story. should i begin with a line of dialogue? should i start with a rhetorical question/vague backstory that leads into a character’s current situation? should i just start with action straight off the bat? i literally never know. there are some days where i get the inspiration to write all day, but i never end writing anything because i get stuck on the intro or research.

i even have a document with the first few paragraphs of multiple works that i like just to see how these wonderful pieces start. one document of mine is like one page long and it’s only filled with possible intros. LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE!! and they’re all so different from each other! yours always lead into the story so well and they’re never the same, so i applaud you!

anyways, onto your well deserved praise! you are literally the only writer on this site that i genuinely look forward to. when you released guerilla, i literally squealed and i don’t do that. maybe a giggle here and there, but never a squeal. not only do you write long stories (which i personally prefer. 20k - 50k words? AND it’s good writing?? you deserve a kiss on the head from God himself!), but quality writing, good punctuation, no overused dialogue tags, badass reader characters, and always a happy ending. you’re truly a godsend! especially because of your happy endings (and badass reader character— emphasis on badass). there’s this one seonghwa piece that’s like over 50k words, but it doesn’t have a happy ending so i haven’t read it. for me, fiction should end with the reader being happy so if i won’t be happy at the end, i don’t want to read it. but that never happens with you. i’m sure i’ve read all your pieces at least once and i can positively say that i’m always smiling like an idiot after i finish.

overall, you’re a writer that i learn from and you’re writing is absolutely awesome. keep up the good work and make sure to take care of yourself! i may not know you personally, but that doesn’t mean i can’t think you deserve all the good things in the world for creating a universe that readers can get immersed in and forget about reality for some time. all for free at that too. you deserve the world and more. so does everyone else reading this though! can’t wait for your next release! you’re awesome!!

omygod. this has to be the best message i have ever received and i'm smiling so hard. i read this like three times before i came up with a few words to respond (if you know me, you also know i struggle with this ahaha 😭)

first of all, thank you so much for the praise, i can't tell you how much this means to me and this came at the right time- perhaps, you're godsend for me! (struggling with this one fic and i refuse to write anything else until i finish this one bc it's collected dust for far too long now). you squealed when you saw guerrilla? 😭 you prefer long stories? 😭 and you like happy endings? 😭😭 that's me yes ahaha

thank you so much, glad to have another person here who likes the length of my fics (bc of you all i have been physically unable to keep my oneshots short). i'm glad my writing style appeals to you! i know my english isn't perfect but thank you for appreciating it! one thing i refuse to write is a basic reader character (not that we don't like a basic reader character once in a while-- i just always gotta add a little sth 😭) (might write a basic reader soon tho ahaha) as for the happy endings, i do have a few tragedies planned for the year but you're absolutely right-- we love our happy endings. if i have to make sth tragic, it will be ending on a bittersweet, it-had-to-be-this-way note and i hope i can write it well and i hope you read that whenever i post it too! i'd love to hear what you think of it (it's far in the future but one day i will)

to answer your question, my writing process for a long time was literally just sit and write whatever's coming to me. most of my fics have been spontaneous like that-- sudden impulse, unplanned everything, just a general idea of the roles of the main characters and a basic idea of the plot-- not even the ending. i don't like to plan the ending, actually. i like to simply plan how it begins, what the key points are, and the ending comes naturally from there.

one thing i've started doing recently is just write my thoughts in a paragraph or bulletpoints (bc i have the memory of a goldfish) but it helps if you want to prefer planning and then writing. the most important advice i can give to anyone here is to not be afraid to write. literally write whatever you want, and do not be afraid to edit. or even rewrite. cannot stress this enough. i'll give an example:

with guerrilla, i had the trope: serial killer/doctor/biker yunho and crime fiction writer reader. no background of the characters. no ending in mind. simply that they were housemates, there will be dark humour involved and yunho will gradually warm up to the reader. that was literally all i had! when i opened the doc to write, i thought about how i would want it to start-- i think with intros, you gotta write sth that gives the readers a basic idea of where they are, why they are there, who they are, etc. and then you can continue the story, so you gotta shape the intro to attract their attention with a general idea, right? now i just went with the flow, wrote whatever i wanted to, and whenever i would add some detail, i would go back and edit it in- either in the form of dialogue or some foreshadowing (we love foreshadowing). when i thought of their tragic past? went back again to edit that in. so basically just a series of writing, editing what's written, cutting what looks unnecessary now, and voila.

so how should you start your story? depends on the story. sometimes, it needs to start with action when it's an action heavy plot, right? we would like to find ourselves in a middle of a fight or sth like that to set the tone immediately. so whatever the theme of your story is, you gotta set the tone in the first part! also, don't be afraid to start from wherever you want- you can always add parts later! like my series take me home-- i literally started from the middle and when i came up with a plot twist that supported what i wrote, i went back and wrote the first half LOL and then i planned the ending from there. i think readers also prefer if you don't add unnecessary details/scenes in the beginning, yeah? fillers are for inside the story, not in the beginning or the ending.

also, don't be afraid to experiment! write what you're the most comfortable writing, don't be too hung up on research and facts-- you can literally make anything up because it's fiction. it's your world and your rules. i literally make up whole new universes to save myself from the hassle of real-life technicalities (you may have noticed how i never use real places or setting lmao). if you have an idea that you really want to write, start with there, and simply, write. let the words flow, let it go wherever your mind takes you. you'll find your hands typing by themselves! you can worry about if it's good or not later, just write! (you won't believe me but as i'm finishing writing a fic, i begin to kind of hate it. no amount of reassurances convince me that it's good enough bc i am the writer. i still post and when i receive feedback, that's when i realise it might be good! and when some time has passed and i reread it, i'm sometimes amazed- i wrote that? how will i top that? and the cycle continues 😔✌️)

also, thank you for that sweet little msg at the end 🥹 literally sending my best to you. you deserve all the good things too! i'm glad you're able to get yourself lost in the universe i create for my fics, that means i'm doing a good job 🥹 thank you again! <33 i hope you won't be afraid to write and simply wing it LOL that's how i do it and you know what?

the most unplanned and spontaneous fics have been the most loved here.

#just write is literally the best advice i can give LOL #it sounds like a joke but literally #the fics that i just wrote without planning driven by pure impulse #are ppl's favourite here (and mine too)#this was such a lovely ask #thank you again!#yumi.asks

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fayes-fics · 2 years

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Moments: Chapter 10

Moments masterpost

PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Rating: Teen and up (rating will change in Epilogue 1, can be skipped)

Summary: Slow-burn fic. Read previous chapters of this fic from masterpost linked above. In this chapter, which is a long one, we are witnessing moments during the two-week engagement. These two are really teasing each other now, so it’s getting a little heated as they test if they can stick to their pact. Also readers parents arrive for the wedding.

Warnings: none really… fluff, fluff. A bit suggestive with some kissing, bed sharing and errr finger sucking.

Word Count: 4.4k (this chapter only, 18.8k total for all chapters to date)

Authors Note: We made it, people! This is the end of the line for the main story. Strangely, a family tragedy spurred me to finally complete this last chapter, having been sitting 80% written for the better part of a month. Please note, there will also be two Epilogues for you to enjoy. The first one, the wedding night, will be explicit but can be skipped (i.e. scant plot, all porn). The second is very short but should not be missed! Thank you as ever to my wonderful beta @makaylan <3 I couldn't have done this without her. I hope you all enjoy this!

Chapter 10: Moments from an engagement

The first person you see upon return to Aubrey Hall is Violet. She takes one look at you walking arm-in-arm and knows. She bustles over, announcing James is napping and embraces you, kissing you on the cheek.

“Y/n, I am so happy,” she chimes, “I'm so glad my son finally admitted to himself, to you, his true feelings. I will never forget how happy he was all those years ago when he met you and how sad he was after. And, well, anyway, this is the best possible outcome. Welcome to the family, my dear.”

“Thank you, Violet,” you respond a little bashful, “I'm so happy,” you admit freely and squeeze Benedict's arm. He smiles down at you as you look up at him. “So happy,” you repeat, holding his gaze.

“I assume we will need to make that announcement to the family after all,” Benedict chuckles.

“Less than a week later,” you laugh, “they will be confused.”

“No, I think it will make more sense than it did a few days ago,” Violet opines. “We all have eyes; we all knew.”

Benedict rolls his eyes. “Point made and point taken, mother.”

She smiles enigmatically and swans away with a wink.

You giggle and kiss his cheek. “See you at dinner, my love.”

“Wait, you are leaving me already?” he pouts, pulling you into a loose embrace.

You run your hands up his arms. “Just to freshen up and get ready for dinner,” you breathe, “now if you hadn't made that other rule, you could have come with me, shared a bath, and gotten changed together. But you and your rules…” you tease with a smirk.

“You little…” he growls, his grip on you tightening, and you know he is picturing everything you just outlined.

“If you think I will give up teasing you now we are getting married, you are sorely mistaken,” you murmur.

He raises an eyebrow and leans in. “No, my love, I think you are the one who is mistaken,” his voice is a deep dusky whisper, lacing your fingers with his and locking your joined hands behind your back. “Do you not remember all the times I teased you? Hmm? I've had six years to think of new ways to drive you to distraction. Can you imagine? Oh, my love, you have no idea what awaits you.”

It's a delicious, loaded, filthy promise, and you are breathing heavily when he is done talking.

“But please…” he concludes, releasing his hold on you, “go enjoy that bath. Alone...”

“You…” your turn to growl at him as he backs away with the most devastating crooked smile. He winks and turns his heel, bounding up the stairs two at a time.

—

You are sitting at your vanity table, washed and freshly dressed for dinner, when James wanders in from his adjoining bedroom in his pyjamas.

“What's wrong, my darling? Why aren't you ready for dinner?” you bring him into a cuddle on your lap.

“Mummy, I don't want to have any dinner. Can I just go to bed?” he whines, snuggling into your shoulder.

“Aww, my precious child,” you indulge him. “Are you not hungry?”

He looks sheepish. “I might have eaten too many biscuits at afternoon tea. Mrs White, the cook, well, she said that I could have as many biscuits as I wanted because I'm so handsome,” he grins.

“So you made yourself all full up on biscuits?” you laugh.

“Maybe…” he looks contrite.

“James Darby, you are a naughty boy,” you say with mock outrage, hugging him closer as you do.

“But you still love me, right mummy?” he argues back, giving you the full hazy blue-eyed puppy dog look—Benedict’s look.

“Yes, I do,” you admit, kissing his forehead. God help me, you add silently in your head, realising you will soon have a house with two of them pulling this trick on you. Dear god, what are you letting yourself in for?

“There's something I want to tell you, James, before I go to dinner and you go to bed,” you sway him slightly in your lap. “What do you think of Benedict moving in with us? Or us moving in with him?”

“Did you ask him like I wanted mummy?” he answered animatedly. “Did he say yes?”

You huff a laugh. “Actually, Benedict asked me if we would move in with him. So you both had the same lovely idea.”

James smiles proudly at that.

“He also,” you hesitate briefly, “he also asked me a very important question, and I said yes.”

“What question, mummy?”

“He asked me to be his wife.” You are so nervous.

“That’s nice,” he says unphased. “Does that mean Benedict is my new daddy?”

“Well, it means he loves you very much and wants us to be a family - the three of us. Officially he will be your step-father,” you obfuscate, “But you can call him whatever you want to call him, James darling,” you explain. “He will never replace your Papa, but he wants to be the best father he can be to you.” Your heart hurts a little at all the half-truths you have to tell him, but more than anything, you want James to believe he is the rightful Viscount.

James pats your hand as he sits in your arms. “I like Benedict very much, mummy; I will call him daddy for now. Can we live in his cottage with all the paints?”

You laugh, “Yes, James. And we can all live at Darby Hall or our little cottage. And you can set up an art studio together.”

He claps his hands together gleefully, “I'm so excited, mummy!”

There is a knock at your door. “Come in,” you call, not bothering to look up, assuming it is likely to be your lady's maid or James’ nanny.

“Benedict!” James calls out, and your head whips up. He is dressed in a beautiful blue ensemble that steals your breath. James wrestles himself out of your arms and runs across the room to him. Benedict instinctually drops to his knees, and they hug.

“Mummy told me we are going to be a family, and I can call you what I want to call you. I want to call you daddy,” James enthuses.

Benedict looks at you, full of emotion, then back to his son. “Yes, it's true we are going to be a family, James. I would be so happy if you want to call me daddy,” he replies, swallowing thickly.

“And we can set up an art studio together at our cottage AND your cottage,” James peals with excitement.

Benedict scoops him up and stands. “We can do whatever you want, James. My son,” he kisses him on the cheek as he says those momentous words. James smiles at him, and then they both look over at you.

“Mummy, come join our hug,” James gestures. And you do.

Being in the joint embrace of your fiancee and your son is the best feeling in the world. It's like your world is suddenly whole. You will need to reapply your eye makeup.

“I came to bring you both to dinner,” Benedict offers by way of explanation, “but I see someone is ready for bed.”

“James doesn't want dinner,” you explain to Benedict, wiping away a tear as you all hug, “but I'm sure he would be delighted if his mummy and daddy put him to bed together before we go for dinner.”

James nods rapidly, and Benedict's eyes soften to the point of being dewy.

“It would be an honour,” he replies, his voice cracking, looking between you.

You walk hand in hand into James’ room, and he climbs happily into his bed as you both take up a place on either side. You pick up a book and read him a fairy tale, taking turns to make funny voices that delight your little boy. As James’ eyes droop, Benedict grabs your hand and stops reading.

Your eyes meet, and he whispers, “Thank you for this.”

“We can do this every night if you want, my love,” your voice thick with emotion.

“I can't wait for the rest of our lives together,” he confesses.

Yes, you definitely need to reapply your eye makeup now.

___

Benedict takes your hand as you descend the main staircase to the dining room and raises it to his lips, kissing the back of it as you approach the door.

“I know my family can be overwhelming, but don't forget they already adore you,” he whispers against your knuckles.

You smile at him. “I adore them too.”

And two hours later, you have had the dinner of your dreams, being warmly welcomed into his loving, spirited family.

“Benedict,” you whisper as you leave the room a little drunk on wine, “can we sleep together tonight?” you plead.

“We have our agreement,” he reminds, sounding somewhat reluctant about it, as a hand sweeps around your back.

“No, I know; I mean actually sleep. Very chaste. Just,” you sigh, “I want to fall asleep in your arms.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace. “That sounds wonderful, my love. Do you promise nothing untoward?” he smiles against your cheek.

“Your honour is safe with me, Mr Bridgerton,” you giggle, “at least for tonight,” you add.

“Then I accept, soon-to-be Mrs Bridgerton,” he chuckles, and your stomach flips at the idea of that being your name in just a few short days.

A few minutes later, you are lying on your bed, fully clothed, your head on his chest, your bodies entwined—just the embers from the fireplace give the room a faint glow. Your eyes droop from the wine and the warmth of his body seeping into yours. You listen to the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your ear and trace mindless shapes on his forearm with your fingertips.

“I love you so much,” you hear him whisper as you drift off.

“Love you too,” is your slurred reply as sleep claims you.

Waking up in Benedict’s arms is blissful. Somehow during the night, you have ended up as the little spoon in a hug. His embrace is warm and enveloping, a lovely place to be.

It's also not entirely unproblematic. You can feel something hard and insistent against your bum cheek through your joint clothing. The temptation to reach back and squeeze is strong, but he is sleeping so peacefully that you dare not disturb him. Or break your pact. Tempting as it may be to do precisely that.

So you just lay there quietly and daydream about how things used to be when you woke up together and how things will be once you are married. You are in a unique position to know so much about intimacy with someone before marriage. Most people have no idea what they are getting into. You know this man’s body almost as well as your own and thinking about it makes your hips flex on instinct.

A warm hand grabs your hip bone. “Stop that,” he growls, thick with sleep.

“Sorry,” you reply.

“No, you’re not,” he grumbles amicably.

“You’re right,” you flip over to face him, “I’m not,” you smile and crowd your head closer to him, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Kissing is acceptable, yes?” you whisper against his skin.

You feel his smile more than you see it.

“Yes, but maybe not whilst lying in bed together,” the hand on your clothed hip squeezes, “it’s entirely far too tempting…,” he breathes, ghosting against your lips.

“Mmmm, then get out of my bed, Mr Bridgerton,” you tease, capturing his bottom lip between your own and sucking it gently, enjoying the hitch in his breath and the flex of his fingers.

“You are a menace,” he murmurs when you release his lip, his breath warm against your cheek.

“And so are you. I just said you could leave my bed,” you kiss his lips, “but… here… you… still… are,” you challenge; between each word, you kiss him lightly, holding his face with your hands.

He growls, and suddenly you are pinned under him on the bed. Your senses are alight; hands caged under his against the pillow, his warmth and weight on top of you causing your heart to flutter in your chest and a warm tingle elsewhere. He stares down at you, his pupils blown wide, his lips damp from your kisses, breathing a little ragged, just like your own.

“Mummy….?”

You startle and look aside to see James standing in the now-open doorway to his adjoining room, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“Daddy…?” he adds hesitantly upon recognising Benedict.

“James!” You both respond in unison. Jumping away from each other as if burned.

“Good morning, my love,” you add, smoothing down the dress you slept in and rounding the bed to kneel and hug him.

“Why are you and daddy in the same bed?” he asks.

“Remember how I used to share a bed with your papa? Well, your daddy and I will be married soon, so we will share a bed too. Does that make sense?” You try to explain as best you can, feeling Benedict’s eyes on you.

“Yes, but does that mean I can’t sleep in your bed anymore, mummy, like when I am scared?”

“No, no, James,” Benedict interjects and walks over, dropping to his knees next to you. “If you are scared, you can always share a bed with your mummy and me. We will give you hugs and help you sleep, my son, always.” He ruffles James' hair, and James crowds into him, seeking a hug.

“Thank you,” James replies.

“Now, shall we get ready for breakfast? Your mummy has a busy day today, James; that means we can paint together,” Benedict explains.

“Hurrah, I’ll go get dressed,” James chimes happily, extracting himself and running away to his room.

“I do?” You look at Benedict, puzzled, as you both stand up.

“Mother said last night she is taking you into Canterbury for a first fitting with the local modiste there, remember?” He teases.

“That’s today?!” You go wide-eyed.

He chuckles. “Two weeks is not much time to make a wedding dress, especially one that needs to be as special as you,” he adds, his voice soft but with an undercurrent of heat.

You close your eyes briefly and sigh. “I love you, but please get out of my bedroom Mr Bridgerton. You cannot say such things and expect me to keep the terms of our pact,” you finish, staring him down.

His eyes flash something sinful, but he bows respectfully. “Fair enough. I shall take my leave, fair lady.”

He opens and disappears out of your door. Then he swings back in on one arm suddenly, his face smirking. “If it helps, I like you in ivory; it looks so wonderful against your flushed skin when you’re about to come apart in my arms,” he whispers dangerously with a conspiratorial wink.

He has to duck, laughing, to avoid the pillow you lob at him—total menace.

“Oh, that looks wonderful on you, my dear,” Violet assures as you stand on the raised platform at the modiste. You stare at the mirror, nonplussed; all you can see is some raw silk (in ivory, for him) and many pins.

“Violet, you flatter me; this is just a first fitting,” you shake your head affectionately.

“You will make a beautiful bride,” she assures.

“Thank you,” you demure.

“Have you yet written to your parents to inform them of the happy news?”

“Yes, I did. It’s such short notice, but hopefully, they will be able to attend. I’m sure they will be surprised. I think they expected me to stay a widow for life,” you chuckle.

“Did they not know of your history with my son?” She seems curious.

“I was matched from birth to my previous husband; they would not have taken kindly to the news that I was with someone else. On my part, at least, it was a secret—it had to be. Much as I would have preferred it otherwise,” you sigh, smoothing down the front of the silk, suddenly rueful for all the lost time without your true love.

“You loved him then,” it’s not a question as much as a statement:

“I loved Benedict from the moment we met,” you admit quietly. “And I hated my life after. I tried to make the best of the situation, and John was never a bad man. It would have been easier if he were the villain of the piece. He was a good man and a good father. But… he wasn’t my heart.” You shrug.

She reaches over and squeezes your hand. “I knew Benedict was in love from the moment he came home one evening. He just looked so at peace. Like he had met someone who made his future clear. He told me about you not long after. And then, when you had to be married, it broke his heart. He has loved you for as long as you’ve loved him; I can assure you of that, my dear” she draws you into a hug as she sees your misty eyes.

You are grateful she does not mention James in this semi-public setting. And as she pulls away, she gently touches your cheek.

“If your parents cannot make it, I am certain the Viscount would be honoured to walk you down the aisle to marry his little brother,” she says softly.

“Thank you, Violet. It truly will be an honour to join your family, and I cannot wait to be a Bridgerton.” You confess.

“You already are, my dear,” she smiles.

—-

The next ten days are a whirlwind of wedding planning, decisions and appointments, managed mainly by Violet, who seems very happy to lead the charge.

Except at dinner, you barely see your intended or even James, who seems ecstatic to be Benedict’s shadow while you are occupied. Every evening he regales you with stories of their adventures together that day - swimming, hiking, painting, horse riding. And every evening, you wish you had been with them instead.

In the afternoon, three days before your wedding, you finally get some alone time without a wedding-related commitment. James is napping while you take tea on the outdoor terrace, revelling in some quiet time with a book and the sun's warmth.

You hear footsteps up the stairs to your left, and suddenly there he is. Your fiancée. Looking so handsome in a maroon waistcoat and cravat. He seems surprised to see you.

“No wedding commitments this afternoon, my love?” He teases, leaning over and kissing your cheek.

“None,” you smile, “I’m enjoying a quiet moment after days of hubbub.”

“Hmmm I can imagine,” his crooked smile in sympathy causing your stomach to flip as it always does.

You bite your lip, deciding to tease him. “I’m feeling so very… excited to be your wife.”

“Excited, hmm?” He raises an eyebrow and drops to his knee in front of you, the same stance as when he proposed.

“Yes, perhaps you can help me with that,” you whisper, grabbing his hand and using it to gather the layers of your dress in your lap.

“Y/n,” he warns, his voice a low rumble, “we agreed, remember?”

“Benedict, please,” you murmur, “just touch me.” He shakes his head and lowers your dress back down as you pout.

He gently grabs your left hand, lifts it to his lips, and kisses the betrothal ring. Then with a sinful smirk, he suddenly envelopes that finger with his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking, his hot tongue swirling against the jewellery and your flesh. Your breath stutters hard, something hot blooming in your chest.

“Don’t mistake my proposal to be chaste for lack of wanting, darling,” he drawls after sinfully pulling off your finger with a wet pop. “It is, in fact, very much the exact opposite.” His breath is warm over your knuckles as he looks at you through his lashes.

“Are you actively trying to kill me, Mr Bridgerton?” Your voice breathy, leaning your forehead against his.

“Maybe…” his little smile is something dangerous.

There’s a fizzing slide of want down your spine, and you grab his left hand and mimic his actions. Engulfing his ring finger in your mouth, tasting his tangy skin. Sucking insistently and running your tongue into the slightly webbed skin between his fingers, his knuckle trapped against the roof of your mouth. He groans and surges against your leg. You intend to remind him of what you have done to other parts of his body in the past, and the message does not go unnoticed.

“Anything you can do. I can do too,” you challenge with a raised eyebrow keeping his finger there gently with your teeth.

“This is a dangerous game,” he concedes through gritted teeth. “Three days,” he adds, his voice tight, as his finger slips from your lips.

“Indeed, my love,” you wink.

The morning of your wedding feels momentous. As if your whole life has been leading to this day. The day you wished you could have had six years before.

You greet your parents as they arrive from their journey, so pleased to see them. They are so very keen to know more about your seeming whirlwind courtship and surprise engagement and you have a few moments with them before your fiancé joins you.

“Lord and Lady y/l/n,” Benedict greets respectfully as he walks in, “it’s so wonderful to meet you.”

“Mr Bridgerton. I trust you will treat my daughter well,” your father stated, shaking his hand firmly.

“Of course, my lord. Y/n and James are the most important people to me in the world.” Benedict replies solemnly, looking over at you.

Your mother nudges you as the men start to talk. “I see why you like him. He reminds me so much of little James. You seemed to have picked a husband to match your handsome little son.” Her comment is offhand with a chuckle, but your stomach lurches. You may have to tell them the truth someday. “But it seems like such a short courtship. Are you certain about him, my dear?”

You decide to tell a partial truth. “I knew Benedict in the past, mother. He was a friend of a friend. He’s a trustworthy gentleman.”

“Oh of that, I have no doubt,” she nods, “the reputation of the Bridgertons as an illustrious family of excellent pedigree is known everywhere, my dear. It’s more about if you are certain this is a good thing. For you? For James?” Her motherly concern is touching.

“Benedict and James adore each other,” you assure her.

As if wanting to prove your point, James comes running in. He makes a beeline to Benedict, who picks him up instinctively and kisses his cheek.

“Hello, son. Look who came to see us for the wedding. It’s your grandparents,” Benedict tells him softly.

James whips around to look at you and your mother, then your father, who has moved to pour himself a brandy.

“Did he just call him son?” Your mother whispers, a smile plastered on her face as she watches Benedict put James back on his feet. “Good lord, now I see them together; the resemblance is far too striking. Daughter, I think we need to have a private discussion, do we not?”

“Not now, mother,” you answer through gritted teeth, refusing to meet her questioning gaze.

James walks over and greets his grandfather, the embodiment of manners.

“My dear boy. My, how you’ve grown since we saw you last,” your father chimes, “come sit with me. Tell me all about your latest interests.”

“I like painting, just like my daddy does,” James announces proudly, taking a seat next to your father.

“I don’t recall the Viscount being a painter,” your father muses out loud.

“Not my papa, my daddy,” James corrects with a little frown.

“James means me,” Benedict admits quietly, taking a seat next to you.

The look of surprise on both your parents' faces is a picture.

“When we announced our engagement, we allowed James to call Benedict whatever he wanted,” you offer by way of explanation, “he chose that.”

There is a moment of silence then your father clears his throat.

“So you are a painter Mr Bridgerton?” Your father begins. “What sort of income does that afford for the provision of a family?”

Benedict looks sheepish and goes to answer, but you cut him off.

“Father,” you admonish, “James and I are more than adequately provided for by the Darby estate. It matters not what Benedict can provide financially. I love him with all my heart, and that is all that matters. All that will ever matter. Even if the Darby fortune is taken from us somehow, know that I will still choose this, him, every time. Always.”

You feel Benedict’s eyes on you, his mouth slightly agape, surprised at your impassioned outburst.

“I love my daddy too,” James pipes up, wriggles off the sofa next to your father, and walks over, climbing into Benedict’s lap. You ruffle James' hair affectionately as he twines his arms around Benedict's neck and lays his head on his shoulder. The three of you truly are a little family, and you couldn’t be happier.

Your father looks utterly bewildered, as if the concept is entirely alien to him; he just nods politely and swigs his brandy. You feel a sudden melancholy at the realisation that your parents never had the privilege of a love match. While they have companionship, their marriage was arranged, much like yours with John. It makes you reach out and grab Benedict’s hand. So grateful for him, for what you have had and will share, the journey you’ve had to experience to finally be together, somehow making it even more rewarding and all the sweeter. As your fingers entangle, you share a look - a moment - that tells you everything you will ever need you will find in or with each other.

And a few hours later, as you stand next to your father looking up the petal-strewn church aisle ahead you see your two boys awaiting you - Benedict and ring bearer James, with smiles on both their beautiful faces - and you know this is the moment you will treasure the most. Forever.

— The End —

Tagging: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @wysteria-clad @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @margofiore @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @queenofshinigamis @khaleesjjj @starslibrary @magical-spit @honeylovemoon @justwant2read8421 @nikaprincessofkattegat

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yuri-is-online · 2 months

Note

Since we’re talking about Idia now, I want to talk about the Phantom Ortho scene from the new update. What’s your thoughts on the scene? Personally, I think it was part of the dream rather than Idia actually talking to the dead Ortho.

I’ve got a couple of reasons for this. First, Idia was being dragged down by the darkness associated with the dream realm. He’s still physically in NRC. And it’s not that strange to think that this is another deeper level of the dream realm. It’s also been established that the dream’s purpose is keep the dreamers there, so changing its method now that the original method of acting as though the tragedy didn’t happen no longer works wouldn’t be out of place in my opinion. Our Ortho showing up shattered the illusion, dredging up buried memories even if Idia was still holding up some form of denial.

Second, it’s more fitting for his character arc for it to be just a dream. Choosing to neither stay in the Underworld with Phantom Ortho or stay in the dream with the RSA Ortho solidifies Idia’s commitment to no longer wallow in the guilt of the tragedy and to allow himself to move forward. He’s rejecting both pretending it didn’t happen and continuing to punish himself by allowing himself to be dragged down by his mistakes. I feel that takes away from the moment a little if it’s dead Ortho giving him another kick in rear to not be swallowed by guilt.

Sorry if this is incoherent and rambly, I’m still soaking in Idia freaking out over his mom searching his computer. What did he have on there???

-🦐

>I’m still soaking in Idia freaking out over his mom searching his computer. What did he have on there???

Top teir weeabo shit and commissions of his ocs. But tbh it could have been literally anything, I would freak about my mom going through my pc now and it's mostly just art refs.

I'm glad you are back shrimp annon, I was wondering about your thoughts. I have two distinct threads of thought on it if that makes sense? The first is about whether or not it was a dream and the second is about the darkness. Also um... have any of you played critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV? With a free trial now on xbox? Because the best way I can think to explain why spoils something from Shadowbringers...

Was Phantom Ortho Real or Not?

I have no idea. Genuinely. I personally think that this was a part of the dream so no, I don't think that Phantom Ortho is the same as the one we fight in Chapter Six, but does that make him less real? There is a reality where he could be the same I suppose? The idea of your soul leaving your body when you dream is a concept that's decently common in mythology, so it is possible that Idia astral projected into the Underworld?

Malleus specifically says Idia will "be swallowed by the abyss" so there is a chance I guess that he gets sent to take a nap in the Underworld while Malleus re-writes the spell? But! Malleus is the "ruler of the abyss" while Idia is "the ruler of the underworld." They don't share a title so it makes sense for the Abyss to be it's own place separate from the underworld. And yet the underworld is where Phantoms come from... so just what the hell is the abyss?

Now it is time for me to do a bit of spoiling for FFXIV so uh. I'll toss it under the cut.

To give some brief context for what I am about to show you, at the very end of Shadowbringers, due to various reasons we will not get into here, you find yourself in a projection of a city the villain has created based off of his memories. Said city is populated by Phantoms, all of whom do not realize they are magical projections, except for one:

"...[he] allowed a few stray thoughts to distract him while he was recreating me... '[he] would surely realize the truth.'" I think that's more or less what happened with Idia's dream

Malleus's magic allows the illusion to take place, but it is based off of Idia's memories. While being in denial about Ortho's death, and not wanting to process the trauma, his mind would know that Phantom Ortho would realize the truth. The phantom Hythlodaeus isn't real, but he might as well be from how he acts. The same seems true of Phantom Ortho, Idia wasn't confronting the literal Phantom so much as he was a manifestation of his own memories and guilt, the stray thought that "Ortho would surely realize the truth." Would be enough to make that happen.

In a sense you could say that this Phantom Ortho is still real as it is more or less just Idia fighting his own overblot phantom, which we know to be born of magic and extreme emotion, but I don't think he fought his brother's soul exactly. The affirmation of their promise probably reached Phantom Ortho in the Underworld though, even if he wasn't physically there to hear it.

What is the Darkness?

So if I recall correctly, the darkness also swallows Lilia in the previous update, which is where we get the flashback about how he found Silver. It seems like the darkness draws out what we could call a person's defining character moment? For Lilia that's traveling the world and realizing he doesn't hate humans, for Idia it's the death of his brother and his overblot. If I had to guess I would say it's because the dream needs to reset its narrative? So it needs to put the person back in the mindset of focusing on what they value or what needs "fixed."

The exact involvement Malleus has in giving out dreams isn't clear either, but I think they seem to need to be set in Twisted Wonderland, and tend towards being basic at first but then probably get more detailed the further the person falls into sleep and the more data can be taken from the abyss. It is also clear that some level of outside interference is needed to disrupt the dream weaving, kind of like you need to interrupt the dreamer's train of thought.

Since I am also rambling-

Yuu and Grim are physically present in the same dream, they both risk falling into the abyss... and neither gets a dream that they mistake for reality. Unless they did and we weren't actually physically present in Mickey's dream at all? What would have happened if they had fallen into the abyss?

Does Yuu and Grim sharing a dream imply they share a soul? If so how and why?

I need to go to sleep but tl;dr, shrimp friend I don't think you're off base saying you don't think that was the real Phantom and I want to know what the abyss is, k please thanks.

#<3 asks #twisted wonderland #twst theory #twst spoilers #shrimp annon #i have seen some romanticism of the dream malleus gave yuu but meh #i think that's a bit silly #to be clear i don't think malleus hates yuu or sent them to the house of mouse maliciously #i just think that a) his magic might not be able to account for settings outside of twst's reality #and b) he subconsciously doesn't want them to go home so his magic would not have allowed them to dream of a world he wasn't in anyway #i do think it would be interesting if yuu had sort of gotten lost in the abyss and malleus only realizes that after waking up #and goes a bit insane trying to find them #but eh it's whatever #he's in his toxic girl era let him live his life

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corajjk · 1 year

Text

let me in

genre. angst.

summary. jungkook is in denial. he knows you’re gone but he still hopes he’ll see you. even if it is in the eyes of another woman. even if it is against his own will.

warnings. mentions of nausea and death. use of cuss words. suicidal thoughts.

note. wtf did i just write? please let me know if i should write a part two.

The boy cried as his life was stripped away.

A lit candle in the middle of the woods, then a moment of silence passed and the flame was put out. The quiet of the night pulled the boy into a deep slumber. Death frowned upon him and with one cold whisper, it was gone. But the boy remained in the middle of the woods.

“Jungkook.”

The whisper of his name awoke him.

Nightmares had devoured his soul. As soon as he closed his eyes, he’d see the same vision of the dead boy in the woods. The same eyes welcomed him with despair and a cry for help. But he could only ever witness the tragedy. Never could he save him.

“Thank the heavens you’re ok!”

His vision was blurry, but he could still see the face of the woman standing near his bed. The realization that it wasn’t you dawned on him. If he closed his eyes, would he see you instead of her?

“Jungkook our parents are waiting for us outside. They have everything ready. We just need to sign the papers.”

The minute he awoke, he felt uneasy. He knew that instant that he was sick. The pain in his stomach distracted him from the voice of the woman. He quickly sat up and looked down at the floor. But when she spoke those words, he couldn’t hold himself any longer.

The urge was much stronger than him. Before he could run off to the bathroom, he threw up on the floor. The hot liquid burned his mouth and he couldn’t breathe. When he knew it was over, he ran off to the bathroom like his life depended on it.

He heard her scream his name.

The events of yesterday replayed in his head. His parents were making arrangements for a marriage he never consented to. All of it was planned so he could move on from you.

But he swore he’d never leave you.

Once he was inside the bathroom, he rushed over to the sink and washed his mouth. Even looking at himself made him sick so he avoided staring at the mirror in front of him. He was busy cleaning himself, but he still felt his throat burning like he was bleeding from a deep painful cut.

He heard voices and footsteps coming near the door.

“Is he ok?”

“No, I think he’s sick again.”

“Maybe it’s not a good idea, we should let him be.”

“No! This boy needs to forget about her.”

“You really think he’ll forget if he marries?”

They whispered to each other, clearly thinking he wouldn’t hear them.

Every day was the same. He’d spend every minute crying over you and then sleeping. Sometimes without thinking, he’d leave the house and walk to the river near your home. He’d swim while wondering if you were there with him.

But today was different.

Today he tried to drown himself. He allowed the water to devour his body. He urged death to touch him. To call him to rot completely in oblivion.

He was this close to the sweet slumber of death, but his parents found him. They saved him once. They didn’t have to save him twice. He didn’t need saving. He needed you.

The rest of his life would be hell.

If you weren’t there, what could he possibly do? The logical thing was to please his parents for his own sake.

They would never leave him. Not until he signed the fucking papers. Not until he was at the altar marrying this woman he didn’t even know. What was her name? He had nothing to lose, but nothing to gain either.

Except if he tried real hard, he’d be able to see a glimpse of you through her. Maybe.

Maybe.

Fuck. He was sick.

Gathering himself, he stood up and opened the door slowly. He was glad that his parents were not there anymore. But the woman he was supposed to marry was sitting on the floor crying silently. If he wasn’t in love, maybe he’d try to fall for her.

But you were his love. The only woman for him.

He had to remind himself of that.

“Please be honest. You don’t want this, right?”

She stared at him with bitterness in her eyes. Like she was angry at him. But he didn’t quite understand her. It wasn’t his fault. None of this was.

Instead of responding, he kept thinking of the miserable life that awaited him.

“I know you still love her, but I don’t care. Please marry me. Please love me.”

Jungkook couldn’t feel his body anymore, but he walked over to her anyway. She stood up immediately when he was finally near her. When he was so close to her, she could touch his face with both hands. He felt like throwing up again, but he reminded himself that soon everything would be over.

He knew it was hard to act like everything was fine.

He knew it was hard to lie.

Never once did he lie to you.

To become a liar, he would have to leave himself behind.

“Let me in.”

Jungkook smiled while she held his face. The moment she saw his pretty smile, she hugged him tightly like she was afraid he’d leave for good. When he separated from her, she waited for him to speak.

And so he did. He spoke the words that were never meant for her.

“Go tell them..go tell them we’re getting married.”

She couldn’t hide the joy that was spreading in her. It was so evident that she was happy. He almost felt a little bad. But the moment she turned away from him, he allowed the tears he was holding to spill down his cheeks.

At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to die.

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cilil · 7 months

Text

"I want to feel," Míriel said, "and to let go without worry."

As soon as those words left her mouth, she could see that her lady understood what desires she had hidden in her heart. Vairë let out a small hum and pulled on a thread she had been spinning with two fingers, holding it in front of her.

"I can give that to you, if you wish."

"How so?" Míriel fearlessly held her gaze when the Valië's eyes lit up with something akin to excitement.

"I could turn you into my next masterpiece."

✦ ⁺ ‧ Day 7 ⁺ Vairë x Míriel ✦ ⁺ ‧ Synopsis: Vairë offers to comfort Míriel and takes care of her in more ways than one. ✦ ⁺ ‧ Featuring/prompts: Femslash, friends with benefits, emotional/therapy sex, bondage/shibari, oral (female receiving) ✦ ⁺ ‧ Warnings: Smut ✦ ⁺ ‧ Writer challenges fulfilled: 5, 6 Also available on AO3

AN: And for the final day of @silmsmutweek I present to you some beautiful femslash. I'm so glad this pairing got first place on my poll. Enjoy!

It was with one final stitch and a crimson thread that Míriel finished yet another masterpiece for her lady, and she took a step back to admire the tapestry. She could hear the gentle, soothing sounds of weaving and spinning behind her as Vairë worked, her many hands always busy and ever moving, but she felt her gaze resting on her, her interest piqued by the completion of her work.

In front of Míriel, woven into the eternal webs of the Valië through their shared efforts, was the image of her great-grandson lying in a pool of blood, the same vivid crimson that she had just held in her own hands. She glanced down at her palms, almost expecting them to be stained, yet all she found was the thread she had been working with.

It was just another piece.

Still, her heart ached. The image in front of her held a certain finality, another fate of a descendant of hers ending in tragedy. Míriel had never known her great-grandson, the man whose likeness she and her lady had captured in this tapestry, but she couldn't help feeling a sense of kinship.

"You are in pain," Vairë observed.

"I am." Míriel turned around to face her, not wishing to gaze upon her lost kinsman any longer. At the Valië's silent command, two Maiar arrived to collect the tapestry and put it in its proper place, then left the two women alone again.

"I believe you need to rest."

"I had ages to rest in your husband's halls, my lady."

Vairë let out a small laugh, a sound reminiscent of the soft tinkling of falling needles. "Well then. If you say so, I shall take your word for it. Still, I think you could use a small break. A distraction, perhaps?"

Her mien softened when she saw Míriel's hesitation. "Please, dear, let me ease your burden for a while, if that would please you."

"I..." Míriel's eyes followed the soothing, rhythmic motions of Vairë's many hands, and it awakened a strange longing inside her. It suddenly seemed to her as if the Valië's graceful, ethereal form held a wellspring of comfort and inner strength that she wished to drink from and to be embraced by.

"I would like that, yes."

Vairë's luminous gaze rested on her, calm in spite of the incessant movement of her many hands, and she appeared to be pleased by her response.

"Very well. Tell me then, my dear, what is it that you crave?"

Míriel pondered her question in silence for a few moments. Many thoughts flitted through her mind, yet with every passing second she felt as though the longing inside her grew, awakened by her lady's presence. She had come back to life years ago, but she hadn't returned to the world of living; at times she almost forgot she had a hröa again, her feelings and sensations dulled by the tranquillity and otherworldliness of Mandos. There were needs she had been ignoring and denying herself for too long, chief among them the warmth and touch of another. Perhaps it was improper of her to ask, but she felt emboldened by the Valië's offer and years of companionship the two of them had shared.

"I want to feel," Míriel said, "and to let go without worry."

"I can give that to you, if you wish."

"How so?" Míriel fearlessly held her gaze when the Valië's eyes lit up with something akin to excitement.

"I could turn you into my next masterpiece."

Vairë held out one of her hands, and when Míriel moved to take it, her thread wound itself around her arm like a silvery snake. Perhaps she should be afraid, yet all she felt was intrigue. The light pressure of the thread against her skin brought a strange sense of comfort and security, and she wondered how it would feel to be bound completely.

"And once I have done so," Vairë continued, "I could make you feel even more, be it pleasure or pain, whatever you desire. Would you like that, dearest?"

Míriel's response came without hesitation. "Yes."

"Wonderful." Vairë smiled. "Now undress for me, my lovely."

She discarded everything she had been holding, safe for the silver thread her third pair of hands continued to spin, and rose to her feet to approach the former queen of the Noldor who swiftly obeyed her command. Míriel noticed then that she felt neither shame nor discomfort while exposing herself. There was something soothing in the Valië's aura, even as she eyed her naked form with unconcealed desire; it felt good to be regarded in such a way after ages of passionless abiding in the halls of the dead.

Vairë examined her like a piece of prized fabric, gently running her fingertips down her chest, spine and arms, while her second pair of hands cupped her cheeks to marvel at her face.

"You are so beautiful, dearest," she whispered, her voice vibrating with delight. "You will be a masterpiece indeed."

"You flatter me, my lady," Míriel breathed. The touch of a Valarin queen was beyond anything she had experienced in her old life and it caused her entire body to shiver and tingle.

"I have thought that for a long time. It delights me that you would give yourself to me, even for just one night."

Vairë appeared to complete whatever measurements and calculations she had made in her mind and moved to stand behind her. Her fingers gingerly grasped Míriel's wrists to position her hands behind her back before she began humming a few notes to summon her thread like she had done earlier, commanding it to wrap around the trembling Elf's lower arms.

Míriel flexed her muscles experimentally, only to find that she was firmly bound and now unable to move her hands, and a small moan escaped her. Soon she would be at her lady's mercy completely.

"Does it feel good? Or am I hurting you?" Vairë asked. She held the end of her thread between two fingers, waiting for her response before she continued.

"I can take it," Míriel insisted, a hint of stubbornness in her tone. "It feels good like this."

"As you wish, dearest."

She closed her eyes to savour the exciting new sensation. Vairë's thread wound itself around her chest and upper arms a couple of times to fully immobilise them, then around the base of her neck and down her torso, forming intricate knots and a diamond-like pattern and looping around her torso a couple of times. It felt like a tight embrace, like she was a precious flower held in place by unyielding vines. Míriel's breath quickened, and arousal caused her entire body to heat up and wetness to pool between her legs, threatening to drip down her thighs.

Mercilessly, the thread wrapped itself around her breasts, tight enough to hold but not squeeze the soft flesh. Delighted by her own work, Vairë cupped them with a pair of her hands, another one resting on her shoulders.

"Open your eyes," she whispered, "you should see how gorgeous you look like this."

Míriel obeyed just in time to see her lady beginning to toy with her nipples, eliciting another moan from her. "Please, I need -"

She couldn't think of words to describe what she was feeling, but the Valië needed none. Instead of moving on to her legs, Vairë gently lifted her and carried her over to a nearby divan that she liked to rest on every once in a while. She placed her Elven friend and lover on top of it with a tender reverence that made Míriel feel protected, cared for, *loved*, an emotion that caused tears of joy to well up in her eyes - another that she had so sorely missed. For as lovingly as Irmo, Estë, Námo and Nienna had taken care of her when she was dying and afterwards, none of them had quite managed to make her feel like Vairë could.

The Valië's warm hands were on her once more as soon as she came to rest on the divan, one trailing down her torso.

"Do you want me to go on, my lovely?"

"Yes. Please."

Two hands spread Míriel's legs, then folded them gently so the silver thread could tie her thighs and lower legs together. Bound and exposed, there was nothing she could do except watch as her lady admired her work for a moment, then lowered herself to her knees in front of her. She felt soft lips kissing her folds before Vairë began to lap up her arousal and push her tongue inside.

Míriel felt like she was in heaven; finally her desires were being fulfilled. She had longed to have someone making love to her again, being inside her and pleasuring her until she forgot all the woes that plagued her, and Vairë was giving it to her in a tender, attentive and so very careful manner, not overwhelming her with fast, hard penetration like another lover might have. Bit by bit, she was reintroduced to the mind-numbing bliss her living body could experience, and the sensation was intensified by her inability to move. She was trapped in the most delightful manner, forced to endure the pleasure bestowed upon her.

The Valië was taking her time, using only her tongue to both devour her like a delicious treat and tease her swollen pearl to bring her ever closer to climax. Her hands remained where they were, merely holding her in place; she wasn't going to use them today, and Míriel was grateful for it. She would be ready to receive more of her lady another time, yet for now this was all she wanted, and it almost seemed as though Vairë had read her thoughts - and perhaps she had indeed. Míriel was at a point where she could no longer shield her mind nor worry about her ability to do so.

When she finally came, she let out a soft cry of bliss, tearing through the silence that had previously engulfed them, save only for the occasional moan and muted noises of wet flesh meeting one another. Vairë's tongue gave her a few final, indulgent licks, then she raised her head to look up at her exhausted companion.

"Do you want me to remove your bindings, or would you like to stay like this for a while longer?"

"Stay," Míriel decided breathlessly and was rewarded with a pleased smile.

"Good. I would like to keep admiring you."

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your-dearest-sunshine · 2 years

Text

Ingo's Child Gets Sent to Hisui Alone

dear pls for the love of god let this be formatted right

cw: Heavy angst and depression

Ingo ▲

Your birth parents were casual friends of both Ingo and Emmet in school as all of them grew up in Anville town. They kept in touch here and there; but, like all things, their friendship faded with time. Ingo hadn’t thought of either of your parents in awhile.

That is, until, he catches wind of their passing.

It was a sudden workplace accident that had taken them both away. You were only 8 months old at the time. You never even got the chance to know, much less remember, your parents. The story was set up to be tragedy, with you orphaned and posed to go into foster care–well, not if Ingo can stop it.

It was a hard process for a single man, but Ingo eventually succeeded in adopting you. With his job, he knew he could support you and make you feel loved. Every child deserved that. You deserved that.

The first time he held you, he felt overwhelmed. How could he think he could ever do this? How could he ever be a father? But when you looked up at him with that silly, toothless smile, all doubts flitted away in the wind.

You grew up in Gear Station surrounded by the bustle of people, Pokémon, and trains. The Deerling your birth parents had raised for you never left your side, always trotting around your legs as you maneuvered through the platforms and through the cars.

As you got older, Ingo came to you first to let you know who your birth parents were and what they were like. He told you stories about them from when he, your parents, and Uncle Emmet were younger in Anville. Deerling always seemed to perk up when hearing Ingo speak about them.

While he was the one who told you first about your adoption, you always took the time to reassure all his doubts in raising you.

“I feel like you were meant to be with me, dad. I’m glad it’s you.”

Ingo wouldn’t consider himself to be an emotional person, so he took your affirmations the best he could.

So he bursted into tears.

How did he get so lucky? Having a child like you? What did he do to deserve you? How did he raise you so well?

When you were a little older than a toddler, Ingo moved into a separate apartment from Emmet to have more room for you (he was still in the next apartment over, so nothing really changed at all).

Uncle Emmet helped you a lot growing up, he was a major staple in your life. But Ingo was a great father on his own.

While he established the rules he felt needed to exist, Ingo gave you the freedom you wanted and proved you deserved. Ingo trusted you wholeheartedly. How could he not?

You are the light of his life. He loves you so very much.

You were responsible, kind, and followed all the necessary safety checks when needed.

So…how did this happen, then?

How did he find himself staying at the station until midnight, not being home for your curfew at 10 like he said he would? How did he get so distracted with the upcoming maintenance that he didn’t even bother to message you how the movie went with your friends? How did he not register that you hadn’t even sent him one update message?

How did he walk home with Emmet so leisurely without a care in the world that something might be wrong? How did he part from his brother at their side-by-side doors and enter your apartment without even bothering to call out for you?

Ingo didn’t think twice about anything. You always came home on time, went to bed at a reasonable hour, and cleaned up after yourself. That’s why every light in the apartment is off, right? That’s why it’s so quiet in here–you must be sleeping.

But then Chandelure forced itself from Ingo’s pokéball, lavender flames swaying in the darkness. It sang one of its eerie songs and floated its way over to your door before using its abilities to turn your doorknob and made its way into your room. This was…uncharacteristic for Chandelure.

Ingo felt an unprecedented way of vertigo come over him.

“Chandelure, what are you doing? They’re trying to sleep.”

Ingo tried to whisper but his voice was naturally too loud. He stood in place. Something felt very wrong in his chest, like he couldn’t breathe correctly.

“Chandelure?”

No response.

He took a tentative step forward, the sound of his shoe on the wooden floor rang out in the silent apartment. Ingo felt he was suffocating.

He called your name. Still nothing.

Your room was filled with a bright blue and purple light, Chandelure’s song turning into cries and screeches.

Ingo doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life.

He entered your room to find Chandelure burning the brightest he’s ever seen, flames flickered in and out of control. The Pokémon’s face contorted into one of misery, tears evaporating off its surface before they could truly fall.

You’re not there.

It only took one sweep of Ingo’s eyes to realize that there was no sign of you ever entering the apartment. No spare key on the coffee table, no pair of shoes by the door, no coat on the coat rack, no Deerling anywhere.

Chandelure’s ghostly sobs caused Emmet to bust open the door, and Ingo’s ashen face and frantic searching of rooms caused him to call the police.

Your Deerling is found rather quickly, albeit halfway across Nimbasa. It was confused, tired, and terrified–like it had seen something it wasn’t supposed to see.

They don’t find you with it, however.

Your Missing Persons Report blows up online, and it seems everyone in Nimbasa, hell, everyone in Unova, is looking for you. Nobody succeeds.

Over time, the world reminds Ingo of the facts behind your absence.

“Hey, Ingo, 94% of recovered children are found within 72 hours. Any sign of your child yet?”

“20 percent of the children in non-family abductions are not found alive. I hope they’re doing alright, if they’re even still out there.”

Shut up already–he knows.

He knows that every goddamn day you’re not found that the probability of you being found dead in a ditch goes higher and higher.

He knows that the likelihood of you coming back at this point is so very low. It’s just as low as his chance of speaking to you again, holding you again, loving you again.

He knows.

For the love of Arceus, Ingo knows.

That acknowledgement is the reason why he spends his waking hours pouring over every security tape in the city, every resource on legendary Pokémon, every book on ancient theories, every speculation on knowledgeable Pokémon in hopes that he will learn something–anything–about where you are.

He prays to gods he doesn’t believe in. He makes promises he can’t keep. He tries to sell away his soul. He bargains everything that he is for a chance to know what happened to you.

Nothing works. You’ve left him with nothing but a lonely house, far too many memories, aching grief, and a Deerling he can’t bring himself to face.

A little less than a year after your disappearance, Ingo gives in. He can’t keep working at the station with false hope in his head, he can’t keep battling while thinking of you walking onto his line, he can’t keep existing while believing you’re out there somewhere.

Your funeral is held on a sunny summer day.

Ingo doesn’t know if he spoke a single word during the whole affair. He doesn’t know how to speak when the weight of his emotions presses onto his chest so heavily.

He stands side by side with his brother once the funeral ends, unmoving from this spot in the cemetery. Ingo’s silver eyes don’t waver from the freshly dug ground.

Your coffin is empty.

Ingo moves out of that apartment and across the city rather quickly. He can’t bear to be in that home anymore–the one you left cold and sorrowful. He doesn’t care that his new location forces him on a much longer path to the station; he would add hours and hours upon his departure time if it meant he never had to walk that same path ever again.

He spent so many days walking you to and from school along those streets. Ingo believes he can ever go back there again. So he doesn’t.

Emmet moves in with Ingo again out of concern for his older brother’s mental health as well as his general safety. Emmet has lost you, he will not lose Ingo too.

Ingo is not as loud anymore. It’s not like he doesn’t try to be, but his theory is that he damaged his vocal chords from all the sleepless nights he spent wailing for you to come home. There’s never enough silent nights for them to ever heal.

He becomes much more jaded and standoffish. His frown is even more permanent now, and he lacks the patience to handle any rogue passenger in the subways with a tactful nature.

Ingo is much less responsible now. He misses meals, showers less, and skips work. Emmet is there by his side every day to help pick up the slack, but Ingo’s apathy remains.

He has nightmares about you. They’re filled with all of the horrible things that might’ve been done to you, filled with all of the evil things that could’ve taken you from him, filled with all of the cruel things that may have killed you.

But he dreams of you far more often.

Sometimes the dreams are simply reliving past memories once more. Sometimes they're in his perspective, sometimes they're in yours.

Other times, however, he just speaks to you in these dreams. You tell him you’re doing all right, that you’re in a different place now and you still think of him all of the time, that you’ve caught so many new Pokémon and met so many new people.

“I have these two friends Q̸̖͊W̴̺̒R̴͙̽ḣ̸̟b̸̠̾Ẇ̵̡F̴̮̓ṵ̸͒D̷̠͝Q̷̰̾o̴̪̚≠̤͌ and S̷͚̆X̸̱̃J̶̻̄p̷̄͜Z̷̮͛G̷̢̀E̶̟͛≠̞́ who help me a lot. They stand up for me and care for me a ton. You would really like them both, dad!”

Consciousness is a rude reminder that none of what he dreams is real. You’re not real anymore. You’re gone. Gone gone gone.

After every dream, he wakes up to the phantom feeling of your hands in his. It never gets better.

He develops secondary hypersomnia due to habits. All he ever wants to do is sleep, it’s the only time anymore than he feels close to you again.

Before the two year anniversary of your disappearance, your Deerling just…leaves.

This shouldn’t have been a surprise, however. Ingo avoided Deerling like the plague. Every time he looked at the season Pokémon he just saw the failure of him as a father instead of the Pokémon partner of his child. He should’ve seen this coming.

So he watches it from the window of his room, orange fur shining in the autumn sun, trying to sneak away from the house and into the outskirts of town.

And all Ingo can do is just watch.

He watches as the last living remainder of his child leaves him behind.

Ingo never realized a human being could feel so low, could reach this level of rock bottom. But he does now.

Emmet and Elesa try to help him. They tell him over and over that they love him, that his Pokémon love him, that everyone in Nimbasa loves him. It doesn’t help. His depression is rotting him away in this shell of what he was.

Love never stopped decomposition.

But then, on the first day of the following spring, there is something waiting for him at the steps of Gear Station.

There’s a Sawsbuck standing there. Your Sawsbuck.

It has the richest brown fur, most elegant legs, and the largest set of winding antlers Ingo’s ever seen. They’re covered by cherry blossoms, each stained with morning dew and sparkling in the rising sunlight.

Sawsbuck looks strong. Assured. Revitalized. Reborn.

Ingo’s emotions anchor him in place. He reaches for the brim of his hat and pulls it down to cover his whimpering expression.

He hasn't felt so much relief or joy since you left him.

Sawsbuck uses its snout to push up Ingo’s chin, forcing him to make contact with your Pokémon.

With equally weepy eyes, Sawsbuck stares at Ingo. And your father hears the message it’s trying to portray loud and clear.

‘Heal. You’re allowed to move on and heal yourself. You deserve to be happy.’

And he does.

It’s a slow process, but Ingo begins to accept your passing.

He allows himself grace, he allows himself to mourn and to visit your grave, he allows himself to cry when he needs to, and he allows himself the help that his loved ones extend to him.

His Pokémon help him too. They help him get back into battling at full strength again, they help him sleep soundly when he’s supposed to and keep him focused when he’s supposed to be awake.

Ingo heals.

A little more than two and a half years after your disappearance, there’s a sudden noise that rips through the sky like baritone thunder. But the sky is clear and sunny–save for the twisting spherical cyclone that appeared from the tear in space.

It’s right outside Gear Station, and Ingo knows he is the closest, most-experienced trainer to help deal with this phenomena. He makes his way to the distorting storm, most of the people had begun to evacuate once it appeared.

After a moment of waiting with his palm readied on his pokéballs, the distortion crackles and immediately peeters out into nothing.

You are the only thing left remaining.

You’re taller than he remembers. You look older and more mature, too. Your hair is longer than it used to be and you’re wearing odd-looking clothes. A long red scarf flows away from your neck in the lingering winds of the distortion. You’re dressed in clothes with personal stitching on them, every part of your outfit seems tailored to fit you exactly.

But you’re still you. Undeniably you.

Ingo cries out your name, sounding like the weight of the world was just removed from his shoulders for the first time in centuries.

He immediately tries to run towards you, but his legs keep shaking.

It’s as if his body can’t believe what he’s seeing is real, so he stumbles and stutters and runs like a baby Girafarig learning to walk.

If you recognize him, just the sight of his silver eyes brings you to your knees. For the first time in years, you allow yourself to be vulnerable, to be weak.

“Dad…?

Your voice dies on your throat. Tears brim your lashes and you reach out quaking hands towards your father. There’s a sob brewing in your chest, waiting to be released.

Ingo falls to the ground when he meets you. He takes you in his arms so softly and so gingerly that you don't know how you survived this long without his love.

He buries his face into your neck and weeps, one hand running over your hair with the other twining his fingers with yours.

Ingo holds you so gently because he’s afraid you’re going to dissolve into sand in his arms, like you’ll fade away like you did every night in his dreams.

But you don’t because you’re here. You’re alive.

“Please don’t ever leave me again, my child. I don’t think I could bear it.”

If you don’t recognize him, your eyes go wide and you start to shuffle away from the Ingo out of fear. Your breath quickens and you feel set on edge.

Ingo stops moving. You’ve never been this quick to fear before. You were always so independent and strong, relying on yourself before straining others. Fearless and ambitious, ready to take on the world with nothing but a Deerling by your side.

But now? Now he can see the quivering in your fingers and the alarm in your expression. Why are you so sacred? What had made you this way?

He calls out your name again and you flinch at the noise, shaking your head as if to reject anything he said.

“Please stay away from me.”

There’s a gleam in your eyes that reaches into the darkest part of Ingo’s restless soul and squeezes it. It’s the worst pain he’s felt in years.

His legs give out and he falls to his knees. You have no idea who he is.

Ingo’s voice is cracking, and he can feel himself unravel and lose you again and again and again.

“My child…please, please tell me what frightens you. I’d give anything, just, please, let me help you.”

hey okay this was my first post, let me know if it was okay yes maybe? if you can spare a like, comment, or repost that would make me smile!! tell me if you want something like this for other characters or even emmet maybe :)) requests are open btw!! okay thx for getting this far <3

#pokemon x reader #pokemon imagines #ingo x reader #submas #pokemon #ingo #plantonic ingo x reader #pla #pokémon #pokemon submas #pokemon legends arceus #x reader #reader insert #pokemon ingo #dad ingo

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