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winxanity-ii · 3 months

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𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

╚»★«╝ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐌𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐦𝐢 x 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐨!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: fluff, fanservice is to be expected atp

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, you and megumi meet a loving-spirit.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 5.9k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: I swear writing has felt like a chore lately. Sorry for the lack of updates—especially this series I haven't updated in like 5 months 💀 —but I've just been feeling so 'meehh'. Hope you like what I scrounged together; go to 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐍𝐨. ʲʲᵏ if you want to understand this; also Y/n's (your) power/ability description will be at the very bottom.

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The day was slowly fading into night as you followed Megumi down the dirt road, the sound of your footsteps serving as a stark reminder of the mission that awaited you.

The air was thick with the smell of rain, a slight mist wrapping around you like a cloak, gentle yet persistent.

You were both heading towards an abandoned altar—a place that was once the subject of whispers, now used as a secret rendezvous for the bold and the desperate to make passionate declarations of love.

Yet, underneath the romantic exterior lay a darker truth—reports of curse sightings and animals found heartless, their corpses a grim marker of the danger that awaited.

You walked carefully, paying attention to the muddy trail beneath your boots as it softly squelched.

Unlike the last mission, where you were buried under layers of your own reservations, tonight was different. In the fast approaching darkness, you found your voice and spoke your mind aloud to Megumi, who was walking ahead a few feet.

Even in the midst of uncertainty, you could always count on his steady presence as a silent watchdog.

Every now and then, a faint hum would escape him, a subtle acknowledgment that he was paying attention, that your words weren't lost to the raindrops and rustling leaves.

Your conversation flowed, a stream of thought that touched on everything and nothing at the same time; you even managed to touch on the topic of how the rain's moisture was becoming a menace to the twists you'd painstakingly spent so much time doing. "Seriously, this rain's plotting against my twists, and here I was, thinking my hair could survive a little water," you mused aloud, a note of resignation in your voice.

You then shot Megumi a sidelong glance, half-hoping, half-expecting him to join in your grudge against the weather.

But Megumi, ever the mystery man, offered nothing more than another one of his faint hums, a sound that was becoming more and more familiar.

It was comforting in a way, this non-verbal dance of communication between you two. It spoke of a budding partnership that was slowly, but surely, finding its rhythm.

Taking the reins, you continued talking. "Guess, I'll be spending a few hours trying to fix them up again. Maybe, Nobara would help—" As you spoke, something flickered in the corner of your eye, halting both your words movement; it was a brief interruption in the otherwise steady rhythm of your journey, something that didn't go unnoticed.

Megumi stopped and turned to face you, peering over his shoulder from beneath the umbrella he was carrying. "What's wrong? Are you alright?" he asked, his voice cutting through the steady patter of raindrops, grounding you back to the moment.

You blinked, the image that had caught your eye disappearing as fast as it had appeared. "I'm�� I'm good," you replied, the words more to comfort yourself than to worry him.

Shaking off the unease that clung to you like the moisture in the air, you continued walking, Megumi once again taking the lead, the silent guardian guiding you through the darkness that enveloped the path ahead.

As you resumed walking, Megumi offered a silent gesture of support, the umbrella extended towards you once more—an offer of safety from the rain. "You sure? It's no trouble," he insisted, the edge of the umbrella nudging closer in silent invitation.

"Nah, it's just a little drizzle," you replied flipping your hood onto your head, a stubborn streak of independence guiding your words. "No worries."

But, as if on cue, the skies above seemed to mock your rebellion, a bright flash of lightning tearing across the clouds, followed by a thunderous roar.

The skies opened, unleashing a downpour that quickly turned the drizzle into an intense storm in the blink of an eye.

Megumi's reaction was immediate, his grip firm on your wrist as he pulled you forward, navigating the path with a new sense of urgency.

He carefully angled the umbrella to provide you with the most protection from the sudden onslaught, with his own figure being of secondary importance. The world around you blurred, raindrops distorting your surroundings and making it difficult to see the path ahead.

Megumi led you both towards the shelter of the abandoned altar, his steadying presence acting as an anchor for you both.

The storm continued to rage as you and Megumi approached the abandoned altar, its once-holy stones now worn smooth by age and neglect. The steps, rotten and slick with rain, made each step slippery, but together, you managed to climb them.

It felt like a minor victory to reach the shelter of the altar's roof from the raging storm. The space beneath was a sorry attempt at providing shelter; its roof, riddled with holes, could barely keep the rain from pouring through.

The sound of water trickling through the cracks in the wood matched the staccato rhythm of the wind howling. In a space meant for four, you found yourselves both crammed together under a makeshift shelter that barely accommodated one.

You both huddled close, an involuntary intimacy forced upon you by the need to stay dry. With a click, the now-useless umbrella was closed, its purpose fulfilled.

"So, what now?" you asked, looking up at Megumi with a faint, wry smile mixed with resignation.

The situation was far from ideal, but there was a certain camaraderie in sharing this pitifully small shelter.

Megumi looked around the small room, his normally unwavering stoicism now tinged with a hint of irritation at their circumstances. "We wait it out," he said, his voice carrying a calm certainty that contrasted sharply with the chaos outside caused by the storm.

His shoulder brushed against yours, a silent reminder of the small space that separated you, yet there was an unexpected comfort in the closeness, a shared warmth in the cold that enveloped the altar.

The smell of earth and old rain filled the altar, a strong reminder of the building's struggle against nature and time.

There was a mutual understanding and an unspoken sense of camaraderie between you as you both stood there, pressed into a closeness that would have been awkward in other circumstances. You chuckled softly, not blind to the ridiculousness of the situation. "Of all the places to get stuck during a storm, it had to be a haunted altar, huh?" The attempt at humor was a small rebellion against the unease and the nagging fear of what might be lurking in the shadows.

Megumi's response was an uncommonly soft smirk, a brief lifting of of the curtain that usually concealed his emotions. "Seems fitting though, doesn't it? Just another day at Jujutsu Tech." Though he was joking, his eyes were alert, searching the shadows that danced just out of the beam of light.

Beneath the altar's roof, the little area grew into its own world, a shared experience bubble in the middle of the storm.

With every mission and vulnerable moment you shared, the rain's rhythm on the roof provided a steady backdrop for your quiet conversation. Each word was a thread weaving the fabric of a bond that was gradually strengthening.

"In a weird way, it's kind of peaceful," you mused outloud, allowing yourself to lean slightly into Megumi's side to escape the chill. "You know, if you ignore the potential for curses lurking around."

Megumi nodded, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in agreement. "It's the quiet before the storm. We should enjoy it while it lasts."

Under the dim cover of the altar's roof. The sight of an odd, hollow opening behind the altar distracted your gaze from the discomfort of the cold, dripping rain.

Megumi was the one who first noticed the irregularity—a tiny change in the wall that gave the impression that something was hidden, prompting more investigation.

With a nod, curiosity triumphed over caution and you both moved in closer, the beam Megumi's phone illuminating a narrow entrance to a hidden chamber.

This cramped space, barely bigger than a crawlspace, felt like a time capsule, its air thick with the must of old paper and forgotten secrets.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light, the outlines of hundreds of letters became apparent; each one had been painstakingly stacked and preserved from the effects of ageing. The amount of letters received was astounding; there was a real weight to all the words that were unread.

You knelt down and grasped one of the letters, the paper crumbling beneath your fingers.

The handwriting was elegant, a flowing script that spoke of a bygone era. The letter opened, "To Yani," and as you skimmed through the contents, the story unfolded: it was a tale of love, longing, and a division that was too large to overcome.

Glancing over your shoulder, Megumi picked up another letter, written in a slightly rougher hand. "To Boton," he read aloud, his voice a low murmur in the quiet of the hidden room.

A story of star-crossed lovers torn between duty and desire was woven through the letters that exchanged between Boton, a village boy with dreams larger than his station, and Yani, the next priestess to this very altar.

Yani, as you learned, was to live in solitude on the porch of the altar, as had been customary for priestesses before her.

Boton's letters, filled with passion and pleas, vividly depicted his love for her, a love that dared to challenge the conventions that kept them apart. Yani's responses, though cautious, were not devoid of affection; they spoke of a woman torn between her heart and her obligations.

As you and Megumi sifted through the letters, the depth of their tragedy became apparent. Here, in this hidden alcove behind the altar, lay the ashes of a love that had once burned bright enough to defy fate, now reduced to whispers on aging paper.

"This is…incredible," you muttered as the realization of the finding sunk in. "They loved each other, against all odds."

Megumi nodded, his expression thoughtful. "And yet, it seems they were never truly able to be together. Tradition and duty…it cost them everything."

A slip-up takes your focus away from Megumi's thoughtfulness as he becomes more and more engrossed in Botan and Yani's tragic love.

Beneath your feet, the uneven floorboards cover a secret: a small box that has been forgotten and wedged, almost causing you to fall.

With a mix of curiosity and caution, you pry the wood loose and lift out the box, its contents covered in even more dust than the letters you had already found.

Sifting through the box, the letters you find within hold a shocking discovery. These are Yani's words, but they tell a different story, one of a love for Akio, a bard who captured her heart with songs of his travels. More disturbingly, they reveal her growing fear of Botan, whose affection had twisted into something dark and possessive.

Each letter unveils layers of emotion—love, fear, desperation—painting a picture that is very different from the romantic tale you initially imagined.

Intent on sharing this discovery with Megumi, you turn, only to find him in an unusual position with his back to you and his head bowed, seemingly burdened by the weight of the revelations. "Megumi," you begin, your voice trailing off into the silence of the hidden chamber.

Walking over, you reach out to put your hand on his shoulder, but before you can touch him, Megumi responds so quickly it contradicts his usual calm demeanor.

His hand snaps out, gripping your wrist with a surprising amount of strength, his touch chillingly gentle as he turns to face you. Confusion flutters within your chest when you find his eyes closed, his lashes casting shadows down his cheeks.

"Megumi?" His response is a silence that fills the space between you, heavy and oppressive.

His touch shifts, the hand on your wrist moving to cup your face with an unnerving tenderness while his other arm encircles your waist. "Megumi, what are you—?" With an abruptness that takes your breath away, he pulls you into his arms, leaving your words hanging, unfinished.

All you can manage is a startled yelp as your brain races to figure out what's going on.

The suddenness of the embrace disorients you, his arms a vice that squeezes you close to him, eliminating any room for doubts or questions.

For a moment, everything is reduced to the sensation of being held too tightly, with his body pressing firmly against yours. Confusion changes to panic as you realize that trying to break free of his tight hold is pointless.

"Um…Megumi?" Your voice barely rises above a whisper, tinged with a growing unease that seems to fill the cramped space around you.

Silence is his only reply, but it's broken by a low hum that emanates from his chest.

The air shifts as he moves closer, the distance between you evaporating like mist under the sun.

Megumi leans in, his breath cold against your skin, not at all like the warmth you remember. His movements are strangely tender, nuzzling against you in a gesture so intimate it verges on intrusive, and you feel an involuntary shiver when his nose brushes the point where your neck and shoulder meet.

It's too much.

If you don't move right now, you're positive you'll die from your ovaries combusting.

"Megumi—" you start, wiggling in his grasp to create space between the two of you.

But before you can continue, he interrupts you off with a growl that vibrates through his chest, "Stop saying his name." The words are a cold splash, jarring in their intensity and the unfamiliarity of the tone.

You freeze, not just from the shock of hearing Megumi speak with such coldness but also from the realization of what he's implying.

"What—" you begin again, but once more, he cuts you off, the growl deeper and louder as he tightens his hold around you, "Stop saying his name."

"Megumi, please—" Your words are cut short as he suddenly leans back, breaking the too-close embrace to lock his gaze with yours.

"I SAID STOP SAYING HIS NAME!" he shouts with such force and sharpness that you are momentarily stunned into silence.

The sight that greets you then halts everything—his eyes, once a comforting shade of emerald green, now blaze with an otherworldly red glow, rendering him almost unrecognizable.

The change is startling, a visual confirmation of the wrongness you've felt and a clear statement that the person before you is no longer just Megumi.

Your mind races, thoughts bouncing off of each other as you try to piece together the situation, to find out what caused the abrupt possession.

How? When? But your voice is lost to the shock that grips you, rendering you silent under his haunting, glowing gaze. Taking your silence as submission, the figure brings you back into his arms, face once again finding place in the junction of your neck.

It takes every ounce of your willpower not to react more visibly, to maintain some semblance of control in a situation that's spiraling into something straight out of your dreams.

The coldness of his lips, barely touching your skin, is a sharp reminder of the abnormality of this encounter. The Megumi you know, is not someone who would carelessly and intrusively invade your personal space, he's a man of quiet strength and guarded warmth.

Embarrassment floods your face, a burning contradiction to the cold touch of lips against your skin.

Your heart races, beating frantically against your ribcage, urging you to run away from this twisted mimicry of affection.

Yet, you're frozen, caught in the grip of someone who wears Megumi's face but is a stranger to his ways.

This close, the scent of rain on him is overshadowed by something else—a chill that seems to emanate from him, enveloping you in an invisible shroud of ice.

"Who are you?" The question slips from your lips in a breath, barely more than a whisper, your voice trembling as much as your body under his firm grasp.

A low hum vibrates through the figure holding you, a sound that, under different circumstances, might have been comforting but is instead unsettling.

He sways you from side to side in a gentle, almost loving manner that seems completely inappropriate given the chilly circumstances. "I am what remains of a lost soul," the imposter begins, his voice a haunting mimicry of Megumi's but laced with layers of sadness and insanity that the Megumi you know has never shown. "A soul that loved too deeply, too pure. I am Botan, and through me, the tragic tale of Yani and myself lives on."

The realization that this is not your Megumi, not truly, sends a pang of fear through you. With a surge of determination, you muster the strength to push against the imposter's iron grip.

The sudden movement takes him—no, it—by surprise, loosening the hold just enough for you to slip free.

You stagger back, putting distance between yourself and the entity posing as Megumi.

The small, confined space of the altar's hidden chamber suddenly feels even more claustrophobic, a sense of electric tension crackling through the damp air.

Rain continues to seep through the cracks above, a constant reminder of the storm that rages outside, indifferent to the storm that is currently brewing inside. Botan? The name echoes silently in your mind, a single question that clouds your understanding of everything you thought you knew about the mission.

Your mind race, connecting the dots back to the stack of letters, to the love story so tragically spelled out on aged paper.

The realization hits you like a train, bringing you back to earth. Cautiously, you fix your gaze on the figure before you—Megumi, no, Botan—and the words find their way out, laced with a newfound clarity. "You're the curse we're here to exorcise," you state, your voice stronger now, even as it trembles with the weight of your accusation.

At your words, Botan's fake smile began to crumble, revealing a crack in the façade that he so carefully maintained.

Behind him, a flash of thunder illuminates the cramped space, casting his features in a sinister light that sends a shiver down your spine. "Curse?" he repeats, the word a snarl that distorts Megumi's voice into something unrecognizable, something wholly other. His bewilderment quickly morphs into a twisted form of outrage, a sign that your words have struck deeper than intended. "I am not a curse," he asserts, the denial sharp and edged with a growing instability. "My love isn't evil. It's pure, more real than anything your world can offer."

You watch, a silent observer to his unraveling, as Botan clings to his narrative, to the justification of his actions which have crossed the boundary between life and death. "You don't understand," his voice laced with an almost insane desperation. "Yani was everything to me. Our love was meant to last an eternity. How can something so beautiful be considered a curse?"

His words hang heavy between you like a weight, demonstrating the extent of his delusions.

It's clear now that Botan doesn't see himself as a malevolent spirit but rather as a lover who has been wronged by fate and that his actions are justified.

For him, the line between love and obsession has become blurred; his conviction has made him oblivious to the pain and chaos his presence has brought.

"Yani...she was life itself, and to be near her breathed purpose into me," Botan's voice softens, a sharp contrast to the fervor that had underscored his previous words.

His gaze, lost in the distance of memories only he can see, speaks volumes of the love he once harbored—a love that, despite its intensity, was doomed from the start. The air around you seems to get heavier as he speaks, heavy with the weight of centuries' worth of grief and resentment. The story about a priestess and a village boy caught in a tragic dance comes to life—a tale of love turned obsession.

"You see, Yani was everything to me. But she chose another, a bard named Akio, whose songs of travel won her heart where my devotion could not," the entity's voice cracks, an opening in the facade that exposes Botan's desperation to the fullest. "In my rage, I did the unthinkable. I silenced her song forever, framing Akio for a crime born of my jealousy."

The confession hangs heavy in the air, the words a chilling testament to the lengths to which Botan's madness drove him—a madness that claimed Yani's life, wrongfully condemned an innocent man, and confined Botan himself to a shadowy existence due to his inability to face the harsh reality of his guilt and solitude, tying his soul to the physical world of the living by chains of his own making.

"I mourned her at this very altar, you know. Writing letters to a ghost, my love undiminished even in death," Botan continues, his gaze—though using Megumi's eyes—is hollow as he looks through you, lost in a past marred by tragedy and obsession. "After coming to terms with the horror of what I had done to Yani, I couldn't bear the weight of the outside world any longer. So, I sealed myself within this altar, crafting a sanctuary of sorrow from my confinement." As Botan delves deeper into his tale, the sorrow and madness that have consumed him for centuries seep into the cramped space of the hidden chamber, making the air around you grow colder.

"Here, in the silence of my self-made prison, I wrote the true tale of our tragic love," he continues, the words a testament to his long-lasting obsession. "Day after day, I penned letters not just to a ghost, but to the very essence of my undying affection for Yani, crafting a narrative where our love could live as I wished it had."

However, the truth that remains unsaid in between his sentences serves as a sharp reminder of how profound Botan's delusion is.

The letters are just more examples of his denial of reality, even though they are supposedly a true story of their tragic love affair. To deal with the unbearable weight of his actions, Botan fed his delusions by creating a false dialogue of reciprocated love between himself and Yani through letters he wrote while living in isolation.

"For centuries, I've been adrift, a specter lost in the shadows of my own despair," he reveals, the words heavy with a timeless grief. "But then, I saw a light—a warmth I hadn't felt since Yani's presence graced this world. It drew me forth, like a moth to a flame."

"That light," Botan explains, "was you. A small, flickering flame, but to me, it was a beacon."

The revelation sends a chill down your spine, the implication dawning on you with a terrifying clarity. Botan's hand clutches the side of his head with a grimace as if Megumi's consciousness battles against the intrusion. "Y-You... you were the light," Botan stutters, his speech erratic, switching back and forth, punctuated by winces of pain. "Not her, not Yani... but you. When I saw you, it... it was as if Yani was reborn, calling to me from beyond."

You stand there—rooted to the spot in confusion and alertness—watching as the entity before you struggles with its own existence.

Botan's conviction that you are the reincarnation of his lost love blurs the line between past obsession and present delusion. "Yani... no, it's you. You are the one I've been waiting for," he insists, the words pouring out in a rush of madness and longing.

The sight of Megumi, or rather Botan, in such turmoil stirs up a mixture of emotions—fear for the friend ensnared by this tormented spirit, but also pity for Botan, a soul lost to time and obsession.

Yet, your compassion for the ghost does not cloud your determination to save Megumi.

As Botan's grip on Megumi's head tightens, you realize the time to act is now. Drawing deep from within, you channel your cursed energy, shaping it into a lasso of pulsating light.

"Elemental Catalyst: Creation's Forge."**

The energy thrums in your palm, a ray of light in the shadows.

You whip the lasso forward with a precision born of necessity, entangling Botan in its glowing coil.

The spirit's rantings escalate into a depressing crescendo as the lasso tightens, binding him with the force of your will. "Botan, release Megumi," you command, your voice steady despite the flurry of emotions raging inside of you. "Leave this world, and find peace. You don't belong here."

For a brief moment, you thought you were going to be able to release Megumi from the spirit's control, only for Botan to break free from the lasso's grip. The room plunged into even deeper shadows, the darkness manifesting as if it were wisps rising straight from Botan, who now hovered ominously a few inches off the ground. With a scowl that left you chilled you to the core, his eyes, filled with an unearthly glow, remained fixed on you. "You're never leave me again!" Botan roared, his voice a warped reflection of both Megumi's repressed will and his own suffering.

Extending his hand, he unleashed a torrent of shadows in your direction with ferocious intent.

Caught off guard, you were engulfed in an instant, the shadows constricting around you like a vice.

Each attempt to break free was met with relentless resistance; the dark energy pulsing against your skin, leaving bruises in its wake.

Botan had complete control over the shadows despite you fighting with everything you had, dodging and weaving, trying to find an opening, a weakness to exploit.

A particularly vicious sweep of dark tendrils knocked you off your feet, sending you tumbling across the floor of the cramped space.

You gasped for air, the wind knocked out of you, as you pushed yourself up on shaking arms. Determination burned within you, a refusal to let this be the end—especially with so much on the line.

With gritted teeth, you picked yourself up and jumped back into the fight, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and desperation.

Each blow you landed against the shadowy tendrils seemed to dissipate them, only for them to reappear and strike back with increased ferocity.

The battle was a dance as old as time, will against will, light against dark.

But the shadows were relentless, and before long, a particularly powerful hit sent you flying backward once again.

You hit the ground hard, the impact jarring your bones and scattering your thoughts. Lying there, exhausted and bruised, you stared up at the swirling mass of darkness with Botan at its heart.

Breathing in short, painful gasps, you realized the gravity of the situation—this was no longer just a battle of physical strength, but a test of mental and emotional resilience.

As you lay there, the cold floor beneath you a stark reminder of the ferocity of the battle, your scattered thoughts were abruptly interrupted by Botan looming over you.

His form, now a silhouette against the pulsating shadows, crouched to hover just inches above your face.

The change in his expression was jarring—what was once rage and despair, now held an unsettling mix of awe and adoration. His eyes gazed down at you with an intensity that felt both invasive and deeply sorrowful; so much like Megumi's yet so obviously altered by Botan's presence.

He reached out and caressed your cheek with an eerily gentle touch, as if he was afraid you would break under his grasp.

The sensation sent a shiver down your spine—a visceral reaction to the paradoxical tenderness shown from the entity that had just relentlessly attacked.

Each time Botan's gaze bore into yours, you found yourself turning away, unable to withstand the weight of his stare.

It was Megumi's face looking down at you, but unlike the Megumi you knew, the eyes were full of a hauntingly misplaced affection.

The dissonance between his gentle touch and the chaos he had brought was disarming, leaving you caught between the urge to flee and the realization that this thing in front of you was just as much a victim of his own obsessions as Megumi was of his possession.

"My love," Botan murmured, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo around the cramped space, filling it with a chilling sense of longing.

The word—meant to soften your heart—felt like a chain around your heart, heavy with implications you dared not fully comprehend.

Your heart raced, a cyclone of terror, confusion, and an aching sadness for the perverted kind of love that Botan carried—a love that had transcended death to manifest in this obsession.

It was overwhelming to realize that you were at the center of that obsession right now. To keep some semblance of composure in the face of such unnerving intimacy, you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Finally, you managed to whisper "Stop," a word that was barely audible yet carried the weight of your resolve. "This isn't him. You're not him." The plea was as much for Botan to hear as much as it was a reminder to yourself, a desperate attempt to draw a line between the spirit's delusion and your reality.

Botan simply shook his head, unfazed by your quiet defiance. Gently, he pulled your upper body up against him, drawing you into an embrace that was meant to be consoling but had the effect of suffocating.

His hand continued to gently stroke your face, and as it did so, it tugged at the very fabric of your being. "My love. You're all I want. All I need," he murmured, each word a testament to his delusions and the intensity of his obsession that had surpassed logic and time. "I love you, from now until the end of time, as I've always done."

It was a bizarre scenario, a warped imitation of closeness forged in the darkness of possession and misdirected love.

You could feel the warmth of Megumi's body, the physicality of his presence, yet the spirit that drove him was foreign, a ghost of a time lost to its own cravings and unable to look beyond them.

Your mind raced, desperation clawing at the edges of your thoughts as you searched for a way out, a solution to the nightmare that had ensnared both you and Megumi.

And then, in the midst of the chaos, an idea sparked—a dangerous gamble, but one that might just turn the tide.

Slowly, pushing down every instinct that screamed against it, you melted into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck to draw him closer.

The act, a calculated display of the affection he so desperately wanted, was nothing more than a charade, a carefully constructed performance dictated by the dire circumstances. "I love you, too," you whispered, adding a sweetness to your voice that covered up the sting of the lie. "You're my everything, my every want, my every need," you continued, your words creating a tapestry of fake devotion and broken promises.

As you spoke, you lifted your gaze to meet his, holding his eyes with a steady intensity.

You looked deep into Megumi's eyes, where Botan's spirit had briefly taken control, looking for any trace of suspicion, any indication that he might be able to see past the surface.

However, all that was reflected back to you was a haunting desire for closeness, which Botan mistakenly believed to be confirmation of his hallucinations.

"Without you, there's just emptiness," you added with lidded eyes, layering your deceit with the weight of feelings you were never allowed to experience. "Stay with me, and never let me go," you murmured, hoping to trap Botan and induce complacency in him.

Your fingers gently traced the curve of his jaw, an act of intimacy that served to further prove your devotion.

Botan—completely engrossed in your act—allowed his guard to drop further, the edges of his possession softening in the face of what he thought were reciprocated feelings. His cage-like embrace now felt more like the hesitant touch of a lover, his resistance melting away under the warmth of your supposed affection.

The moment was charged with the tension of unsaid truths and the desperation of a spirit clinging to the remains of the life he once knew.

And as he leaned in, eyes closed in anticipation of the kiss that would seal his delusion, you pushed forward with all your energy, preparing to shatter the illusion and sever the ties that bound him to this world and Megumi.

When the exorcism comes, it's a release—for Botan, a release from centuries of unrequited love turned obsession and for Megumi, a return to himself.

The exorcism surged through the both of you, a barrage of energy that tore Botan's presence from Megumi, sending the spirit back to where it belongs once and for all—the other side. The storm outside begins to recede as the last of Botan's essence disappears, dissolving into the air, signaling the end of the night's hardship.

Megumi's form slackens, and his eyes—once a blazing red—returns to their familiar shade of green.

There's a moment of disorientation when he regains consciousness, and then when his gaze settles on you, recognition and confusion blooms on his face.

Panting from exhaustion, you help Megumi sit up beside you. You lean your head against his shoulder with a tired smile. "Guess we really 'ghosted' him, huh?" you ask, trying to lighten the mood with a little cringe-worthy humor.

Megumi couldn't help but respond with a small nudge and a joking roll of his eyes, a silent acknowledgement of your attempt to find humor in the aftermath.

Then, in a rare moment of intimacy, he puts his own head over yours, his free hand pulling out his phone to text Gojo that they've completed the mission, the ordeal finally over.

You had no idea that, as you drifted off into a tired state of semi-consciousness, Megumi found his gaze returning to you, again and again.

There was an unusual intensity in his eyes, a depth of emotion that seems out of place, even to him.

I've got you, always...no harm will come your way, not now, not ever. And if they try, I'll kill 'em, he thinks to himself, the thought enveloping his mind in a protective, almost obsessive fervor infected with a hint possessiveness.

For a split second, Megumi is startled by the intensity of his own thoughts. He doesn't know what spurred on such a fierce protective instinct, but just looking at you—the soft rhythm of your breathing, the gentle warmth from your body, and the steady beat of your heart near his—is all it takes to dissolves any lingering questions and concerns.

Hm, maybe I’m overthinking things, he muses, watching you murmur softly in your sleep, your face relaxed and peaceful. For now, he's content to simply be here, in this moment, with you safely tucked under his chin.

As you snuggle closer, seeking warmth and comfort in your semi-conscious state, something within him shifts—his heart gives a small, satisfied squeeze, releasing a wave of contentment through him.

Yeah, maybe I should get some sleep, Megumi decides, as he feels the weight of sleepiness begin to pull him down too, that whatever this is, it can wait.

don't clow me too hard y'all, school really got me going through it fr 🥴🥴...

🇾‌/🇳‌'🇸‌ 🇵‌🇴‌🇼‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌/🇦‌🇧‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇮‌🇪‌🇸‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇮‌🇷‌ 🇩‌🇷‌🇦‌🇼‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇸‌:

...Elemental Catalyst: Creation's Forge...**

Allows her to draw energy from her eyes to form shields, weapons, or heal herself or others... Drawbacks: Using this ability for an extended period drains her energy; For the healing aspect, a temporarily soul-bond needs to take place, making it a double-edged sword because she might absorb some of their pain or fatigue, making the act of healing more complex...

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk spoilers #jjk #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fic #megumi x reader #jjk megumi #comedy #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk fushiguro #‧̍̊˙˚˙xaniwrites-yeahnoseries

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vadergf · 11 months

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IF YOU HAVEN'T LISTENED TO A SINGLE CORPSE SONG - STREAM !

#corpse husband

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unbrydledfury · 2 months

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- - -

The world's largest celebration of an ex-corpse turned Hollywood Boulevard into a teeming sea of cheering crowds. Countless arms pumped and snatched at the rainbow of confetti snowing from the flawless blue sky. Excited screams punctuated the trumpets blaring from mariachi musicians stationed on rooftops like heralding angels. The day was seventy-five degrees with forty percent humidity.

The doors of the Chinese Theatre burst open and Bryan Fury stepped out into Southern Californian paradise. His audience roared with praise as he tugged the lapels of his suit jacket, his grin gleaming like the sun off his designer shades. Flanked by a cadre of slim supermodels in slimmer dresses, the cyborg descended amongst his adoring fans.

Arms spread wide, hands brushing and being brushed by jittering, shrieking devotees, he approached the blank concrete square in the sidewalk. Kneeling before it, he thought about what to inscribe. Simple was best. With a finger he drew his name, all caps, bigger and bolder than life with underlines like missile trails.

The crowd exploded, bodies bobbing in seismic waves as the music swelled to a crescendo. Bryan rose to his feet and thrust his fist skyward, a triumphant cry tearing from him that hundreds echoed back. Cameras flashed like starbursts while cannons cascaded streamers and silver glitter and a glowing warmth he hadn't felt in ages filled his mind. He was seen. He was known.

A pair of arms curled under his own, hands resting on his sternum. Bryan could recognize their scars anywhere. A face pressed briefly, affectionately, into the back of his shoulder, and lips softly brushed his ear.

"Well done, darling," Dragunov murmured.

Despite the postcard weather and rock concert crowd, the pit of Bryan's stomach turned to frost. Never once had he heard Sergei speak. That was not the soldier's voice. That was his own.

Pale fingers trailed over his throat.

Fury swung a punch behind him, and the vague shape there broke apart into streams of navy mist. The sounds and smells of the Walk of Fame felt as distant as his plummeting mood. What the fuck was that? He tried for steadying breaths, heartbeat pounding in his ears.

A heartbeat he did not have.

He looked to his entourage. They were nothing but smears of peach and tan, brushstrokes emulating hourglass figures and beehive wigs. Whirling back around, he saw his audience was a wall of faceless blotches and stains, an endless LSD trip projected on suffocating wildfire smoke. The music stuttered and skipped. Impossible. Wasn't it playing live?

Trying to blink the insane mirage from his eyes -- no use, it was still there, its cheers warped long and low into funerary wailing -- Bryan reached to remove his shades. Something larger than lenses stopped his fingers. Bulkier. Pulling on it, he felt it press against the back of his head. He grabbed the crown of his head, arms straining to rip his skull apart.

CRUN--

--nch.

Still breathing hard, it took Fury a moment to gather himself. He was in a small white room, standing on some sort of small round treadmill. Mechanical arms attached to the machine and hanging from tracks on the ceiling lashed cuffs around his ankles and wrists. In his hands were two pieces of some sort of helmet, cracked down the middle with technicolor wiring exposed.

Two men and a woman in white coats stared from an observation window, eyes wide and mouths agape with fear. A fourth researcher stood in the room with him, frozen in place, laptop clutched to her breast.

Bryan looked himself over. Left arm and right leg devoid of synthetic skin, check. Camo pants, check. Ocular HUD reporting normalizing respiration rate, adrenaline levels, and latency between brain and limbs, check, check, check.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

It had been a whirlwind, even by his standards. Receiving word from a Hollywood studio that wanted to tell his story was unexpected but interesting. He remembered walking into their office and shaking hands with the director -- yeah, that was him in the observation room, wearing a nametag from a private military company -- mindful not to crush his bones. They wanted to try a new technique, he said, a type of VR AI that captured and generated visuals from memories. Always willing to play my greatest hits, Bryan recalls saying. They'd strapped him in and turned it on. The next week had been a tour de force, carnage reimagined: gunning down insurgents in Middle Eastern deserts, plowing through waves of Zaibatsu even as his flesh tore like fishnets, a second extinction of the Manji clan.

Grinning, he loosed a nostalgic sigh. The little black box between his lungs was worth its weight in diamonds. He sent it a kind, simple query: where would I be without you?

He interpreted its response as followed: here, where you've been for the past one year, four months, and eleven days.

The researcher inched toward a door in the corner.

Still smiling, Bryan craned his head toward her. "Oh, you clever bastards," he muttered, and threw the broken helmet through the window, impacting the director's face with a spray of blood.

As he slumped to the ground, the others bolted. Seconds later the room was shrouded in red as an alarm blared. The woman with the laptop had her hand on the doorknob.

Pain exploded down her side as Bryan grabbed her shoulder and wrenched her close. She could feel his breath, hot and humid, on her neck. "No you don't," he snarled, "You have some explaining to do. Looks like I've been out of the loop for a while."

Guards are coming, she thought, trying to contain her panic and her bladder, It's okay, it'll be okay. The guards had guns. They'd take him out.

Yet he held her in front of him, his grip like iron. She had seen for herself Bryan's opinion on collateral damage.

Jackboots thundered closer.

His words like beetles in her ear: "Start talking."

#t: sons of theseus #blizzardrush #( cut for length )

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livealittleoc-cb · 1 year

Text

Cold Season

TW FOR BLOOD, MENTIONS OF SCARS, WEAPONS (please let me know if I missed anything!!)

The weather had been getting colder and things have really sucked for Jay. Her fire powers have reduced so much that she’s cold to the touch, which is abnormal for her. Her powers don’t work properly, she’s extra groggy and sleepy. Nothing has been able to warm her up other than Emilia’s coal infused tea and it still wasn’t enough to even let her spit fire. Today was no different, everything was fine.

It had been a late night of guard training. Leo, Ace, Jooheon and Jay were out doing some last rounds along with other guards. Once everything was cleaned up and taken care of, Jay decided she wanted to take a late night on Maximus. She went to the stables and went to where he normally slept. She frowned when she noticed that his door was open, and he wasn’t there. “Maximus?” She mumbled confused as to where he was.

She looked around the rest of the stables not being able to find him. She walked out and to the others. “Have you seen Maximus? He’s not in his stall.” Ace frowned a bit and shook his head at her.

“I don’t think any of us have. It’s strange that he isn’t in his stall I saw him there earlier.” Jooheon muttered under his breath in thought.

“Someone must have let him out. Assholes.” Jay muttered under her breath as she worriedly chewed at her bottom lip. She looked around and looked at the forest. “I’ll go check for him over there. After we can do our rounds and leave.” She said and Jooheon looked at her with worry.

“I don’t think you should go there on your own. He’s a smart horse. He’ll come back on his own. Just take one of the other horses.” He said as he shook his head at her. She frowned and glared at him.

“No. It’s cold out. He must be suffering the poor thing.”

“Your powers are down Ari. You’re vulnerable. Please, just listen to me.” She looked at him and then at the forest and she shook her head and started to walk towards it.

“I promise I’ll be back.” She said softly as she started Jooheon yelled after her with a huff.

“You really thought she would listen to you when it comes to one of her animals? You’re funny.” Leo said with a scoff as his hair was up in a bun. Joo chewed at his bottom lip as a bad feeling settled in his stomach.

“Maximus!” Jay yelled for what felt like the thousandth time. She frowned as she looked around getting more and more worried. She came to a clearing where there was a lake. “He should be around her.” She mumbled under her breath. She saw something on the ground and as she got closer her eyes widened. She gasped as tears pooled in her eyes. “Maximus!” She yelled as she got onto her knees next to the corpse of her horse. As she reached out to touch it though it blurred away. “An...illusion?” She muttered as she waved her hand over it making it disappear. Her anxiety started to peak, and she quickly got up ready to run. Before she could though an arrow shot into her side. She screamed as another hit the top part of her back. She felt her body fall as she sobbed and panted pain over taking her body as she let out another scream of agony. As she everything started to fog, she heard footsteps come to her.

She slowly raised her head and tears trailed down her face as she was met with the face of someone she hoped to never see. “Jae? I-I thought you left?” Said man frowned before crouching down and gripping her face in his hand.

“You would like that wouldn’t you?” He hummed blank faced. “I’ve been working in the offices for the Royal Guard, after our little accident,” He said as he rubbed the scar present on her eye with his thumb. “I couldn’t be allowed outside.” He pouted fakely before he squished her face harder. “This is nice you know. Seeing you sobbing and not being the stupid hotheaded bitch, you normally are.” He growled gripping her face tighter, if possible, while she whimpers, tears streaming down her face as she felt weaker by the second. “Your little magic can’t hide your scars anymore.” He tilted her head with a smirk. “Sorry, I forgot you can’t see from that eye.” He snickers as he hummed letting go of her and standing up fully. “Now time to do what I came here to do.~”

He pulled out his sword, waving it in front of her before everything happened so suddenly. He rammed it into her stomach as she gasped. Her mouth instantly filling with a metallic taste blood flooding from it as she shook. Gurgles left her as he pulled the sword out. “Now no one can save you, no one can have you, you’ll learn you’re not so high and mighty.” He snarled before letting her fall over. He walked away wiping his sword with a handkerchief.

The guys had been waiting out over the edge of the forest until they heard the first scream. They all perked up and Jooheon was the first one to full sprint into the forest. Ace and Leo tried to keep up, trying to track her down. When the second scream rang out, they were able to find the general area she was in. Once they got there, they found her on the ground bleeding out. Ace instantly stopped and dropped to his knees choking on sobs. Leo gasped before shaking his head and pulling off his jacket and sitting next to her. “Jooheon. You’re going to have to take out the arrows.” He turned to Ace. “Ace call Diego, I need him to tell me exactly how he does his healing magic.” Ace didn’t move and Leo glared at him. “Ace! You won’t be able to help her if you just sit there and cry!” Ace hiccupped but nodded and took out his phone with shaky hands. Leo felt numb in this moment, but he pushed it to the side as he torn pieces of his jacket. He put one in her mouth while lightly patting her face. “We’re here chick, we’re here, we’re going to get you help.” He said softly as he looked at Jooheon and nodded.

With that he pulled the first arrow and she screamed into the piece of fabric in her mouth. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Joo kept repeating through tears as Leo leaned over to cover her wound with a piece of his jacket. They did the same with the other arrow and that’s when Ace came phone in hand.

“You won’t be able to fully heal them, she has to go to the hospital.” Is the first thing that Diego said and it irritated Leo.

“We still have to try.” He said. And that’s what they did until they called an ambulance and she got to the hospital.

This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.

Jay will not be available on dash for the next couple of days. The others will be responding and if they are snappy or emotional please don’t takee it to heart.

If asked the right questions Jae might even answer...

I’ve had this in my drafts for a minute and have been itching to post it so here you go 🤧

possible new residents: @monsterhigh-cb [🐟💙] @faywithlove @moonsdessert @minmin-petalcb @theinvitation-bot @badbf-cb @raiden-oc @welcome-to-maniac @dr-hwa-cb @halloween-idols @darkmoonsiblings @nana-n-nono @freakstars-cb @onlyomega-cb @temptationcb @thepack-cb @clubwnderland @angelxdevil-bot @supernaturalcb @hybrid-center @mystical-ocs @domxbot @ocmyths @logan-oc-cb @fantasyaespa [💚🐈 & 💎☀️] @thepatchedpaw @fantasycafexbot @redlight-cb @vanilladaises-rp @theocsnextdoor @cyberfuturexbot @appa-cb @vanillaluna-oc @yourocboys @dawnswonderland-entertainment @richboy-atz @paradigm-cb @yourhorrorbots @k-pop-shelter @littlewood-cb @fantasy-teez @bluerosemafiacb @thechoi-bot @your-renlix @project-takeover @mingyu-cb @sirenaquariumcb @chooseyourmx [DM + / -]

#💀jay.txt

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carrionnewt · 4 months

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disgust pt.2

And you are ugly in the most grotesque way I can think, your grey and cold gums receding over yellowing teeth, and you are bloated in the way the skin begins to melt off a putrefied corpse. Bugs in your, under your skin, wriggling between the loose fibers of muscle and flesh. You are puppeteered by nothing good and nothing good can come of you; falsely insightful blabbering of isolated experiences, of holding a torch to the candle-dimmed living room, and you say you are special.

The only thing special about you is how you make the bile in my stomach churn and scorch my raw throat, and how you marinate in your own patheticness and claim it has made you good. You claim you have purged yourself and you ramble of Lucifer’s painting and sorrowful eyes, and you open your stringy ribcage and scream, ‘Observe me! observe my beating, pitiful heart, how it bleeds ink and ichor but I have bled for you so now I am pure and you must observe me’, and maybe you are aware of how rotten your meat is and how your desiccated heart has been skewed on the brittle branches of fallen trees that you cut and it is drenched in brine and salted in sulfur. You rob the divinity of the secluded.

Rotten words from your torn-apart lips, fat ducts, and lipids yellow and wet, egg yolks dripping. Who even are you to deny me of my faith? of the texts scribbled over my walls and the holy books I hold close to my heart; buffering, always, never a complete stop to whatever torment. Who are you to stop the incense smoke that clings to my hair, to rip the clothes from my back and who are you to claim my brain as false and take the metal from my neck and hold it.

You are a gnarled root. Weeded in throughout the garden of my head, of white spaces and green skies, of the love-weathered swinging bench among the flowers. You are the foulness that snakes under the curt and turns the groundwater to tar and you are the only intruder of sacred ground and sun-bathed streams.

Until you take the athame and drive the curved blade into the core of your being, you will have sinned and you will have corrupted anything good and lovely about the things around you.

#writing #creative writing #excerpts #cw: gore #dark poetry #gore writing #horror writing #poetry #canine poetry #dog poem #religious imagery

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time-is-standing · 1 year

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top 10 songs of february

- a bit late. I'm really sorry, these past two weeks were terrible. but let's skip to the good part

1. under the weather by CORPSE

as you might tell, I've been quite under the weather this past month, so yeah, fitting song to be in the first place. I love corpse, no matter what he does, his new music is always finding a way to my heart but this time... it couldn't have been more perfect even if he wanted to. I love this style, the song is pure perfection!

2. we've been loving in silence by MARO

ooooh this one. I don't even think it's possible to describe it in words. lovely rythm, immaculate beat, perfect lyrics. I'm obsessed.

"every crooked line in your back feels like part of me, your story's in my fingers, you'll never wash away"

3. Parasite Eve by Bring Me The Horizon

this month has been such a rollercoaster. emotionally, physically - actually, in every way possible. it was a tough one so I needed the support & energy this song gave me. I bought myself tickets for the BMTH concert this summer and I couldn't be more excited. I explored some of the new music with my bf and we found out another crazy coincidence: when I stopped listening to BMTH (right after that's the spirit) he started enjoying their music. it's all surreal.

4. September by Sparky Deathcap

this song never gets old. the line "we got fire" is on repeat in my head, it gives me such peaceful vibes (even thouh I know the song is not peaceful at all). I love it to bits.

5. i love you by Billie Eilish

I needed a calm song to fall asleep to as I've spent some nights in absolute terror and anxiety. I'm getting worse as we speak & don't know how long will these home-made methods help me out. hopefully, I won't go absolutely insane.

6. Watch The World Burn by Falling In Reverse

similarly to Parasite Eve, I love the energy of this one. I love FIR so much and these new songs are matching my style in music so well. I'm so thankful I found them again. to be honest, this song was sent to me through a group chat message from some new friends. I gave it a chance and fell in love instantly.

7. watch by Billie Eilish

"go ahead and watch my heart burn"

this is such a meaningful song for me. I never thought that one day I'll experience a healthy and "normal" relationship, but it happened & it makes me realize how much of my previous experiences were toxic. the weight of all those years are crazy. I thought of most of Billie's songs as some kind of strange love songs but realizing they never were any of that is an unique experince.

8. So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish by A Perfect Circle

I was brushing my teeth, getting ready to leave my bf's place and he played the usual "getting ready" playlist but a new song occured on it: this one. I fell in love with the chorus and the vibes, I ran out of the bathroom to ask him what the hell the song was & why he never showed it to me before. we laughed a lot that day.

9. ZOMBIFIED by Falling In Reverse

the wake-up song. any time we're sleeping in and we have a hard time waking up, we start playing this gem and it works like a charm. I don't even know if I mentioned it but this new years' eve a friend - who has similar taste in music - played this at 2 am just for fun and I got out of my sleepy mood as soon as it started playing. that was the time I learned this song works, we didn't go home until 5am.

10. Call Me What You Like by Lovejoy

I loved this song so much, streamed it a bunch. my love for Wilbur will never leave my body, I am obsessed! I reread my Wilbur fanfic the past weekend and I'm so proud of it all. I don't think there's anything that's worth my time and energy more than this fandom.:)

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live-laugh-lovejoy · 1 year

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everyone stream rn

#Spotify

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20k-leagues-speedrun · 1 year

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CHAPTER XIX THE GULF STREAM

This terrible scene of the 20th of April none of us can ever forget. I have written it under the influence of violent emotion. Since then I have revised the recital; I have read it to Conseil and to the Canadian. They found it exact as to facts, but insufficient as to effect. To paint such pictures, one must have the pen of the most illustrious of our poets, the author of The Toilers of the Deep.

I have said that Captain Nemo wept while watching the waves; his grief was great. It was the second companion he had lost since our arrival on board, and what a death! That friend, crushed, stifled, bruised by the dreadful arms of a poulp, pounded by his iron jaws, would not rest with his comrades in the peaceful coral cemetery! In the midst of the struggle, it was the despairing cry uttered by the unfortunate man that had torn my heart. The poor Frenchman, forgetting his conventional language, had taken to his own mother tongue, to utter a last appeal! Amongst the crew of the Nautilus, associated with the body and soul of the Captain, recoiling like him from all contact with men, I had a fellow-countryman. Did he alone represent France in this mysterious association, evidently composed of individuals of divers nationalities? It was one of these insoluble problems that rose up unceasingly before my mind!

Captain Nemo entered his room, and I saw him no more for some time. But that he was sad and irresolute I could see by the vessel, of which he was the soul, and which received all his impressions. The Nautilus did not keep on in its settled course; it floated about like a corpse at the will of the waves. It went at random. He could not tear himself away from the scene of the last struggle, from this sea that had devoured one of his men. Ten days passed thus. It was not till the 1st of May that the Nautilus resumed its northerly course, after having sighted the Bahamas at the mouth of the Bahama Canal. We were then following the current from the largest river to the sea, that has its banks, its fish, and its proper temperatures. I mean the Gulf Stream. It is really a river, that flows freely to the middle of the Atlantic, and whose waters do not mix with the ocean waters. It is a salt river, salter than the surrounding sea. Its mean depth is 1,500 fathoms, its mean breadth ten miles. In certain places the current flows with the speed of two miles and a half an hour. The body of its waters is more considerable than that of all the rivers in the globe. It was on this ocean river that the Nautilus then sailed.

I must add that, during the night, the phosphorescent waters of the Gulf Stream rivalled the electric power of our watch-light, especially in the stormy weather that threatened us so frequently. May 8th, we were still crossing Cape Hatteras, at the height of the North Caroline. The width of the Gulf Stream there is seventy-five miles, and its depth 210 yards. The Nautilus still went at random; all supervision seemed abandoned. I thought that, under these circumstances, escape would be possible. Indeed, the inhabited shores offered anywhere an easy refuge. The sea was incessantly ploughed by the steamers that ply between New York or Boston and the Gulf of Mexico, and overrun day and night by the little schooners coasting about the several parts of the American coast. We could hope to be picked up. It was a favourable opportunity, notwithstanding the thirty miles that separated the Nautilus from the coasts of the Union. One unfortunate circumstance thwarted the Canadian’s plans. The weather was very bad. We were nearing those shores where tempests are so frequent, that country of waterspouts and cyclones actually engendered by the current of the Gulf Stream. To tempt the sea in a frail boat was certain destruction. Ned Land owned this himself. He fretted, seized with nostalgia that flight only could cure.

“Master,” he said that day to me, “this must come to an end. I must make a clean breast of it. This Nemo is leaving land and going up to the north. But I declare to you that I have had enough of the South Pole, and I will not follow him to the North.”

“What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?”

“We must speak to the Captain,” said he; “you said nothing when we were in your native seas. I will speak, now we are in mine. When I think that before long the Nautilus will be by Nova Scotia, and that there near New foundland is a large bay, and into that bay the St. Lawrence empties itself, and that the St. Lawrence is my river, the river by Quebec, my native town—when I think of this, I feel furious, it makes my hair stand on end. Sir, I would rather throw myself into the sea! I will not stay here! I am stifled!”

The Canadian was evidently losing all patience. His vigorous nature could not stand this prolonged imprisonment. His face altered daily; his temper became more surly. I knew what he must suffer, for I was seized with home-sickness myself. Nearly seven months had passed without our having had any news from land; Captain Nemo’s isolation, his altered spirits, especially since the fight with the poulps, his taciturnity, all made me view things in a different light.

“Well, sir?” said Ned, seeing I did not reply.

“Well, Ned, do you wish me to ask Captain Nemo his intentions concerning us?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although he has already made them known?”

“Yes; I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only, if you like.”

“But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me.”

“That is all the more reason for you to go to see him.”

I went to my room. From thence I meant to go to Captain Nemo’s. It would not do to let this opportunity of meeting him slip. I knocked at the door. No answer. I knocked again, then turned the handle. The door opened, I went in. The Captain was there. Bending over his work-table, he had not heard me. Resolved not to go without having spoken, I approached him. He raised his head quickly, frowned, and said roughly, “You here! What do you want?”

“To speak to you, Captain.”

“But I am busy, sir; I am working. I leave you at liberty to shut yourself up; cannot I be allowed the same?”

This reception was not encouraging; but I was determined to hear and answer everything.

“Sir,” I said coldly, “I have to speak to you on a matter that admits of no delay.”

“What is that, sir?” he replied, ironically. “Have you discovered something that has escaped me, or has the sea delivered up any new secrets?”

We were at cross-purposes. But, before I could reply, he showed me an open manuscript on his table, and said, in a more serious tone, “Here, M. Aronnax, is a manuscript written in several languages. It contains the sum of my studies of the sea; and, if it please God, it shall not perish with me. This manuscript, signed with my name, complete with the history of my life, will be shut up in a little floating case. The last survivor of all of us on board the Nautilus will throw this case into the sea, and it will go whither it is borne by the waves.”

This man’s name! his history written by himself! His mystery would then be revealed some day.

“Captain,” I said, “I can but approve of the idea that makes you act thus. The result of your studies must not be lost. But the means you employ seem to me to be primitive. Who knows where the winds will carry this case, and in whose hands it will fall? Could you not use some other means? Could not you, or one of yours——”

“Never, sir!” he said, hastily interrupting me.

“But I and my companions are ready to keep this manuscript in store; and, if you will put us at liberty——”

“At liberty?” said the Captain, rising.

“Yes, sir; that is the subject on which I wish to question you. For seven months we have been here on board, and I ask you to-day, in the name of my companions and in my own, if your intention is to keep us here always?”

“M. Aronnax, I will answer you to-day as I did seven months ago: Whoever enters the Nautilus, must never quit it.”

“You impose actual slavery upon us!”

“Give it what name you please.”

“But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty.”

“Who denies you this right? Have I ever tried to chain you with an oath?”

He looked at me with his arms crossed.

“Sir,” I said, “to return a second time to this subject will be neither to your nor to my taste; but, as we have entered upon it, let us go through with it. I repeat, it is not only myself whom it concerns. Study is to me a relief, a diversion, a passion that could make me forget everything. Like you, I am willing to live obscure, in the frail hope of bequeathing one day, to future time, the result of my labours. But it is otherwise with Ned Land. Every man, worthy of the name, deserves some consideration. Have you thought that love of liberty, hatred of slavery, can give rise to schemes of revenge in a nature like the Canadian’s; that he could think, attempt, and try——”

I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.

“Whatever Ned Land thinks of, attempts, or tries, what does it matter to me? I did not seek him! It is not for my pleasure that I keep him on board! As for you, M. Aronnax, you are one of those who can understand everything, even silence. I have nothing more to say to you. Let this first time you have come to treat of this subject be the last, for a second time I will not listen to you.”

I retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation to my two companions.

“We know now,” said Ned, “that we can expect nothing from this man. The Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the weather may be.”

-CONT-

#chapter 19 is too long for Tumblr unfortunately. will be continued in a separate post ^^#20k leagues speedrun #20000 leagues under the sea #part 2 chapter 19

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hellsitesonlybookclub · 1 year

Text

20k Leagues under the sea, Jules Verne

Part 2, chapter 19 part 1

CHAPTER XIX THE GULF STREAM

“What is to be done, Ned, since flight is impracticable just now?”

“Well, sir?” said Ned, seeing I did not reply.

“Well, Ned, do you wish me to ask Captain Nemo his intentions concerning us?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Although he has already made them known?”

“Yes; I wish it settled finally. Speak for me, in my name only, if you like.”

“But I so seldom meet him. He avoids me.”

“That is all the more reason for you to go to see him.”

“To speak to you, Captain.”

“But I am busy, sir; I am working. I leave you at liberty to shut yourself up; cannot I be allowed the same?”

This reception was not encouraging; but I was determined to hear and answer everything.

“Sir,” I said coldly, “I have to speak to you on a matter that admits of no delay.”

“What is that, sir?” he replied, ironically. “Have you discovered something that has escaped me, or has the sea delivered up any new secrets?”

This man’s name! his history written by himself! His mystery would then be revealed some day.

“Never, sir!” he said, hastily interrupting me.

“But I and my companions are ready to keep this manuscript in store; and, if you will put us at liberty——”

“At liberty?” said the Captain, rising.

“M. Aronnax, I will answer you to-day as I did seven months ago: Whoever enters the Nautilus, must never quit it.”

“You impose actual slavery upon us!”

“Give it what name you please.”

“But everywhere the slave has the right to regain his liberty.”

“Who denies you this right? Have I ever tried to chain you with an oath?”

He looked at me with his arms crossed.

I was silenced; Captain Nemo rose.

I retired. Our situation was critical. I related my conversation to my two companions.

“We know now,” said Ned, “that we can expect nothing from this man. The Nautilus is nearing Long Island. We will escape, whatever the weather may be.”

#hellsitesonlybookclub #jules verne #bookblr #books

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corpse-husband-simp · 4 years

Text

Fic recs masterlist

Masterlist part 2

❤️ =means smut :). 🧡 = social media au. 💛 = headcanon 💙 = blurb/drabble (short Fic). 💜 = oneshot (Long Fic). This means deleted.

Last updated 17/11/20 (Im taking a break) <3

none of these belong to me, full credit goes to the writer

If you know any fics that are not on here please let me know :)

Let me know if any links are broken :)

If you are the owner of any of these fics and dont want it to be on here, Please tell me an they Will be removed from the list :)

I Can only add a hundred links to one post so to Read the fics listed tap “Read here” :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@fairysimp. Read here. The prettiest flower 17/10/20. 💙 If you’re a fairy, so am i 18/10/20. 💙 Corpse classic 19/10/20. 💙 You’re on! 20/10/20.💙 Sucks to suck 23/10/20. 💙 What are you afraid of 24/10/20.💙 Cupcakes, sugar and sundresses 24/10/20. 💙 I told the stars about you 24/10/20 💙 Feather light 27/10/20 💙 Soft vibes 27/10/20💙 Danny devito 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ewritesthangs. Read here. Blurb 17/10/20.💙 Q and a time 18/10/20. 💜 Oneshot 22/10/20.💜 Blurb 23/10/20. 💙 Oneshot 25/10/20. 💜 Cake tasting 26/01/20 💙 The Big day 31/10/20 💜 Losing a pet 03/11/20 💙. Extrovert reader 15/11/20 💛~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@marvelandsuchstuff. Read here. Sleepness nights and Golden sunlight 17/10/20💜 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpsehusband-simp. Read here. Lazy day 15/10/20. 💙 Opposites attract 16/10/20.💙 Oops 1 20/10/20. 💙 Oops 2 26/10/20💜 Insecure 08/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@laysfics. Read here. Spell 16/10/20. 💜 Spell 2 18/10/20. 💜 Spell 3 19/10/20. 💜 Dinner 20/10/20 💙 Happily ever after 23/10/20💙 Bad days 01/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bastillewolf. Read here. Shinigami eyes 1 13/10/20.💜 Shinigami eyes 2 16/10/20 💜 Panic attack 28/19/20💙 Kinda sketchy 29/10/20💜 #corpsebride 09/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@sttalkr Read here. Your voice 15/10/20.💙❤️ My little pet 19/10/20 💙❤️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@artist-bby. Read here. Deadass 1 12/10/20.💜 Prepare for trouble... Make it double 2 14/10/20.💜 A tired man needs his Well deserved cuddles 25/10/20 💙 Belly rubs 27/10/20💙 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@fandomlit. Read here. Voice impressions 13/10/20. 💙 Destracted 13/10/20. 💙 Mad 13/10/20.💙 Fangirling 13/10/20.💙 Daddy (deleted). 💙 Flustered 25/10/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@skyeet-the-writer. Read here. Id never snitch on daddy 9/10/20. 💜 My mind is restles with the toughts of u 13/10/2 💜. You have my heart 26/10/20 💜 This is a shoutout to my ex 26/10/20 💜 And if you wanna stay, Please stay 07/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ghostgamer. Read here. Comforting you 8/10/20. 💙 Calm nights 11/10/20. 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@iamsuchasimp. Read here. Simp 12/10/20. 💙 Simply simping 15/10/20. 💙🧡 Extra 16/10/20.💙🧡 Making amends 16/10/20.💙 Headcanons 1 17/10/20.💛 Headcanons 2 18/10/20.💛 Miss you 19/10/20.💙 Meant to be? 19/10/20.💙 Alibi 20/10/20.💙 Trending 22/10/20.💙 Ship 25/10/20 💙 Headcanon 27/10/20💛 Popular 29/10/20 💙 Bodyguard 08/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@introverted-mushroom-san. Read here. Just a human (series) 16/10/20 💜 Confession 07/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@harleysarchive. Read here. Among you and me 13/10/20. Among you and me 2 19/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@storiesforallfandoms. Read here. Propostion 19/10/20 Caught feelings 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@star-gaz3rs. Read here. Unspoken words and read messages 19/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@locallolli. Read here. Corpse head canon 19/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpsedaydream. Read here. #concepts. Neon banter 19/10/20. Sore loser 20/10/20. Cold hands, warm neck 21/10/20. It’s fine 21/10/20. Beach baby 22/10/20. Im okay 25/10/20. Wine night 001 25/10/20. Flappy bird 26/10/20. Yeah baby thats Nice 26/10/20 Monthly 27/10/20 Painted nails 27/10/20 Pet names 26/10/20 A Long week 27/10/20 Crash 01/11/20 Wet hair and warm cuddles 04/11/20 Chaotic s/o 05/11/20 Car 05/11/20 Spooning 05/11/20 Carry on 05/11/20. Corpse does Your makeup 06/11/20. Healing kisses 06/11/20. Fruit salad 06/11/20. Stress and refresh 06/11/20. Pre/post streaming 07/11/20 A fright 10/11/20. Paint wars 11/11/20. See you in the morning 11/11/20 Golden hour 12/11/20 Swing 13/11/20 Carrots 17/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@randomafwritings Read here. It’s 2 am dude... 19/10/20. Missing prank 28/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpseglider Read here. Soft!boy hours 20/10/20. Mute Your mic 20/10/20. Attention seeker 21/10/20. Want some company? 22/10/20. You’re sus 23/10/20. Flower fingers 24/10/20. Jealous tendencies 25/10/20. Mirror 26/10/20 You’re beautiful 27/10/20 Flower fingers 2 29/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@moonjelly-princesa Read here. Simp 12/10/20 Next time 20/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bakubabes-hatake Read here. Muted infatuation 20/10/20. Sweater weather 24/10/20 Sleepy sessions 31/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@divinecorpse Read here. Date and snowman’s 20/10/20. Podcasts and announcements 22/10/20. You are in love 25/10/20 It’s never not for you 31/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@foxypuppy Read here. Secret snuggles 20/10/20. Back to you 21/10/20. Sweet Cakes and first dates 25/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@breathygasps Read here. A scarier possibility 1 21/10/20. A scarier possibility 2 23/10/20. Sick day 24/10/20 A scarier possibility 3 29/10/20 A muffin run gone wrong 30/10/20 Odd hours 12/11/20 A scarier possibility 4 14/11/20 French tongue 16/11/20 💙. Dog days 16/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@xoxoyourdad Read here. Blurb* 22/10/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bitch-im-your-biggest-nightmare Read here. It doesnt matter What they say 23/10/20. Stars 1 23/10/20. Stars 2 23/10/20. Welp, i guess the cat is out of the bag 23/10/20. Stars 3 24/10/20. Stars 4 24/10/20. Stars 5 25/10/20. Sick boi hours are over 25/10/20. Disaster 25/10/20. Allergies are not fun 25/10/20. Tears falling down at the party 25/10/20. Stars 6 (finale) 26/10/20 Panic attacks suck man 26/10/20 Goddamit kid now they know Im a single father 27/10/20 Parents fucking suck bro 27/10/20 No! This isnt how you’re supposed to play the game 28/19/20 The blood on our hands is a Bond 31/10/20 Happily ever after 01/11/20 Parenting 101 03/11/20 Parenting 200 05/11/20. Summertime Sadness 07/11/20. Panick attack in gorcery store 07/11/10 Headcanon 10/11/20 Riddle me this 15/11/20 💙 Sorry 15/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@flowersforcorpse Read here. Under the bus 22/10/20. To distraction 24/10/20 The cat Got out 27/10/20 Marination 30/10/20 Limbo 08/11/20 Zoned out 10/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@apricauts Read here. A sleeping corpse 23/10/20. A lovely day 24/10/20. Nsfw headcanons* 24/10/20. Nsfw headcanons 2* 25/10/20. Nsfw headcanons 3* 26/10/20. The lion sleeps tonight 26/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@crystalg6m Read here. Trust 23/10/20. Secret player 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@monsterenergysimp Read here. Permanance 24/10/20. Reckless endangerment 25/10/20 Oh my god, they were roommates 27/10/10 Feel better 27/10/20 Forget today 28/10/29 Interruptions 28/10/20 Father of the year 29/10/20 Lock screen 30/10/20 Building Snowmen 31/10/20 This is halloween (father of the year 2) 01/11/20 Closer 02/11/20 Unravel 02/11/20 Snap, crackle, pop 03/11/20 Fluffy concept 04/11/20 Sleepy 05/11/20. Mute 07/11/20. His anxiety 07/11/20 Forgetful 13/11/20 Permanance 2 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@myherotrashbin Read here. Soft smiles and warm hugs 24/10/20. Just let it out 25/10/20. First kiss 25/10/20. Cuddles are needed 25/10/20. Well this happened 26/10/20. Just a little love 04/11/20 I just wanna hold you damn hand 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@mmonamona Read here. Beautiful 23/10/20. Petty fights and lonely nights 20/10/20 I Think Im in love with you and Im terrified 26/10/20 Halloween 28/10/20 Alls hair in love and war 02/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@uhithinkthefucknot Read here. Respectful simp 25/10/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@letsloveimagines Read here. Crush 25/10/20. Forever 26/10/10 Crush 2 05/11/20 A friend that is a Girl 09/11/20 Murderer 12/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@flowersbby Read here. Drawn to you 25/10/20. Hard day? 26/10/20 Dont overwork yourself 27/10/20 Star struck 31/10/20 Nobody compares 03/11/20 I need you 11/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@kakyoinsimp Read here. Anything for you 26/10/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thefanficmonster Read here. Falling faceless 25/10/20. Unlucky 25/10/20. You Call it a mess, we Call it baking 26/10/20 Switch blade 28/10/20 Caring 29/10/20 Lucky me (Unlucky 2) 01/11/20 Power couple 02/11/20 Love for the faceless 02/11/20 Inky memories 05/11/20 Just two sad roommates 08/11/20 Whats it to you 15/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@sloppythots-com Read here. Reaction 24/10/20 Nails and reassurance 24/10/20. Hugs 27/10/20. Sweetie 29/10/20 Innocent 01/11/20 Believe 01/11/20. Eyeliner 06/11/20. One time 06/11/20 Favorite Girl 12/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@flowersandcorpse Read here. Shes optimistic (not me) 1 22/10/20 Shes optimistic (not me) 2 27/10/20. Marinanation 30/10/20 💙 Clasped hands 16/11/20 💙. Marinanation 2 16/11/20💙 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@readerwriterandteadrinker Read here. Pillow talk 27/10/20. The ten hour stream 1 27/10/20 The ten hour stream 2 28/19/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@euphoniumpets Read here. Agoraphobic 27/10/20. Haunted 27/10/20 Cuddle buddy 01/11/20 It’s snack time 03/11/20 Cuddles and thunder 05/11/20. Break my baby 05/11/20. Cooking 06/11/20. Nap time 07/11/20. Oppostite attractions 07/11/20 Baby bump 13/11/20 Flirty interactions 15/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@literatureteachervibes Read here. Opportunity 1 24/10/20. Opportunity 2 28/19/20. Opportunity 3 30/10/20 Where corpse saves her from a creep 03/11/20 Opportunity 4 31/10/20. Opportunity 5 11/11/20 Simp 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@struggling-with-time Read here. Dinner for two (at Home) 28/10/20. Translucent 28/10/20. Cuddle time 28/10/20 Outfit for the day 28/10/20 Movie night (horror movie) 28/10/20 Can i have my sweater back? 28/10/20 Size difference and snuggles 28/10/20 Dont turn green on me now 28/10/20 Sykkunos biggest simp 28/10/20 Rainy days 29/10/20 Dog parks are a good place 29/10/20 Penpals from across the sea 29/10/20 Cloudy afternoons 30/10/20 Stressful streaming 30/10/20 Comfort 30/10/20 YouTube video (ASMR) 31/10/20 Blind date 31/10/20 Halloween party 31/10/20 YouTube singer!reader 01/11/20. Cuddles 01/11/20 Funny S/O 01/11/20 Ocular migraines 01/11/20 Kitten calling 02/11/20 Our cat child, our precious son 02/11/20 Gifted collar 02/11/20 Suprise song 03/11/20 Fun fact 03/11/20. Comedian 03/11/20. Cat Girl 03/11/20 Ruben moves in 03/11/20 Painter 04/11/20. Lost connection 04/11/20 Lost connection 2 06/11/20. Cousin of a cousins wedding 07/11/20. Pokis friend 08/11/20. Pokis friend 2 08/11/20. Bedside confessions 08/11/20. Uncertainties 08/11/20. Working together 08/11/20 Among us promises 08/11/20 Spilled tea 09/11/20 Stuffed animals 10/11/20. Dungeons and dragons 10/11/20 Corpses brother 12/11/20. Off cam kisses 12/11/20. Being corpses sister hc 12/11/20

Mothers arent always the best 12/11/20 Soft voices 13/11/20. Shy reader 13/11/20. Without you Im just a sad song 14/11/20. Actress/actor reader 14/11/20. Faceless YouTuber reader 14/11/20. Reader owning an etsy. 14/11 Simping for 2 16/11/20. 💙 One last time 16/11/20n.💙 Nightmare 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@corpserose Read here. Mornings 28/10/20. Paint my nails 31/10/20 Snack time 02/11/20 Home 04/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@shelswrites Read here. The Sound of a voice 28/10/10. 💙 Blurb 28/10/20.💙 Livestreams 28/10/20💙 Q and a 29/10/20 💙 Famous!singer reader 29/10/20 💙 Fight 29/10/20 💙 Tall!reader 30/10/20💙 Hand 30/10/20 💙 Nicknames 30/10/20💙 Roommate 30/10/20 💙 Nicknames 30/10/20 💙 First night at corpses House 31/10/20 💙 Painting nails 31/10/20 💙 The feel of a touch 31/10/20💙 Playing with his hair 01/11/20 💙 Period 01/11/20 💙 24 hour livestream 01/11/20💙 Corpse in maid dress 01/11/20 💙 Knitted blanket 02/11/20💙 Dyeing eachothers hair 02/11/20 💙 Taking Care of his hair 02/11/20 💙 Playing with his hands 03/11/20 💙 Sharing clothes 03/11/20💙 Bisexual 03/11/20 💙 Imposter duo 03/11/20💙 Cat ears for corpsie 04/11/20💙 Holding grugdes 04/11/20 💙 Laying on Your lab 05/11/20💙 Studying 05/11/20💙 Helping him with his anxiety 05/11/20💙

Laying on Your chest 05/11/20 💙 Eyeliner 06/11/20 💙 Plus size s/o 06/11/20💙 Your hands 07/11/20💙 Putting eyeliner on him 07/11/20💙. Corpse failing at cooking 08/11/20.💙 Eyeliner and skirt 08/11/20. 💙 Cooking 09/11/20 💙 Like real people do 09/11/20.💙 Sleepy corpse 09/11/20. 💙 Comforting him 10/11/10.💙 Blushy corpsie 10/11/20💙 Holiday 13/11/20. 💙 Tired corpse laying in Your lap 13/11/20. 💙 Corpse having a bad day 14/11/20 💙. Bf not gf 16/11/20.💙 Long distance 16/11/20. 💙 Making a yt Channel together 16/11/20.💙 Playing and answering questions 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@rxvenclawwriting Read here. The aftermath of scary videos 28/10/20. Internet trolls 29/10/20 Sketched conffesions 02/11/20 Tiktok famous 03/11/20 Just a slip of the tongue 04/11/20 The Challenge of Touch 05/11/20 Q and a 14/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@imjustpeachyme Read here. Bumpy roads and broken promises 28/10/20. The mirror always lies 01/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@ruby-lavorre Read here. Ramen 29/10/20. Dating corpse HC 30/10/20 Dating corpse HC 2 31/10/20 Holding out 01/11/20 Best friends hc 05/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@rock-c Read here. Kandi 30/10/20. Shortstack 30/10/20 The bassist 30/10/20 Movie marathons 01/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@b-star-wonder Read here Headcanon 30/10/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@moonlightsimp Read here. Cuddles headcanon 01/11/20.💛 Choose me 03/11/20 Simp 05/11/20 Needy 06/11/20 Shower feels 10/11/20 Social media au 13/11/20🧡 Social media au 13/11/20 🧡 Moving in 14/11/29 Pretty baby 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@anata-e-no-izon Read here. A Big whoopsie 25/10/20. Rivalry 30/10/20. Ignorant opinions 09/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@antisocial-dumb-ass Read here. Sleepy time phone Call 02/11/20. 💙 The impostor among us 02/11/20. 💙 Cuddle time 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@bibliofilia Read here Ships passing in the night 03/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@reaperxrex Read here. sunkissed 29/10/20. First fights 29/10/20. Sports star 03/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@withcolebrock Read here Full of suprises 05/11/20. Close Your eyes 06/11/20 Distracted 12/11/20 Amazingly beautiful 15/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@souljoon Read here. Sweet 05/11/20. Infatuated 05/11/20 Whats up baby 07/11/20 Roommates 09/11/20 Roommates in among us 10/11/20 Mutual pining roommates 12/11/20 Comfort 15/11/20 💙. Not making fun of you 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@impala-1979 Read here. Dead 05/11/20. Their life had barely begun 08/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@abluecorpserose Read here. Pretty boy 25/10/20. S/o with Anime voice 06/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@the-writings-of-a-simp Read here. Roommate 04/11/20. Corpse in a skirt 05/11/20. Rainy cuddles 06/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@marvelfreakbrynnlee Read here. The elf in the café 07/11/20. The elf in the café 2 10/11/20 The elf in the café 3 15/11/20 💜~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@syukkunii Read here. Cuddles hc 09/11/20. Corpse flirting during livestream 11/11/20 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@pepinotpepe Read here. Wildflower 08/11/20. Wildflower 2 08/11/20. Wildflower 3 09/11/20. Wildflower 4 11/11/20 Wildflower 5 12/11/20 💙 Wildflower 6 17/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@auramindedd Read here. Oneshot 08/11/20. 💜 AccidenTell 10/11/20💙 First meet 11/11/10 💜 Under the weather 13/11/20💙 Period pain cuddles 13/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@takenbyheartstrings Read here. Burden 10/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@the-winter-sxldier-posts Read here. Moments 12/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@glxwingbakugo Read here Takeout and horror movies 12/11/20. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@softboiicorpse Read here. Always forever 12/11/20. 💜 Grocery shopping 13/11/20 💜 Final goodbyes 13/11/20 💜. Grocery shopping 2 15/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@nekomacam Read here. Not even okay 13/11/20 🧡 Not even okay 2 14/11/20 🧡 Not even okay 3 17/11/20 🧡~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@thotasshoebitch Read here. I know you did not just grab my Boob 15/11/20💙 Rain on me 16/11/20💙. My hair 16/11/20 💙~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#corpse husband #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband fanfiction #corpse x reader #among us #corpse #corpse husband fic recs #masterlist

3K notes · View notes

cloudenthusiast2 · 3 years

Text

To be a human - Scaramouche x reader - Part 5

You knew committing to a relationship with Scaramouche would be no easy task but you loved him dearly and unlike others, you believed he wasn't evil. But as a mortal and the devoted protector of your village you were too much of a good person, too much of a human compared to him and your differences slowly start to show.

Previous: Part 4

Length: not too long:)

Trigger warnings: blood, fighting

You slowly opened your eyes.

The clouds that were orange and pink not so long ago now had turned dark along with the sky.

You've just realised how long you have been sitting on the cliff.

The chilly weather suddenly felt genuinely cold and a shiver ran down your spine. You wore light clothes not suited for a night in Liuye's mountains.

'I should start heading back' you thought. But you didn't move.

A few days have passed since Scaramouche left but it still felt like the wound he caused was wide open. You avoided every interaction with others and luckily they were considerate enough to let you be. No one gave you requests or tasks, they dealt with their problems themselves so you could be alone for a while.

A little guilt stung your chest. You said you would always protect them yet you were selfish enough to only think about yourself for days.

On the other hand, you also felt a little burnout. You still loved the village as much as you used to - maybe even more, now that it was the only thing left that you cared about - but you didn't want to go back to your previous way of living. Even though Scaramouche wasn't a part of your daily routine, everything felt so empty without him. Just thinking about him made you smile any time and you could always look forward to his visits. And when he was actually there, he made everything feel shiny and wonderful.

He sure was the grumpiest man but that just made his soft moment worth even more. How delighted you felt when he laughed at your stupid jokes or gave you a smile that wasn't teasing or (too) smug. When he first held your hand you couldn't stop grinning for days.

You let out a quiet chuckle as you remembered your beautiful memories together. For a few seconds the grief was gone with your smile but when it finally faded away the sorrow became even sharper in your heart.

But it actually wasn't that painful any more. It still hurt really deeply but now you could at least think of the benefits of the new situation.

Something that you always hated about being with Scara was that the village lived in a low-key but constant fear. They were all afraid of the fatui. And for a good reason, as you realised after their last visit.

Now you could at least keep them more safe. They didn't have to be afraid of your lover and his power any more.

You stared at the dark sky one last time then shook your head. You stood up, getting ready to head back to the village but your mind was still invaded by thoughts of Scara.

The rocks under your shoes jingled as you took a step forward.

Another step, another sound of them tinkling together.

Another step and a scream.

You flinched and immediately glanced at the rocks. But they weren't the ones making the desperate sound.

You stared in front of you, your mind numb and empty without any thoughts.

Another scream. Human voices strengthening and getting louder and louder in the distance.

You looked up slowly, turning your gaze to where the village was. It was pitch black. Until red dots started lighting up.

'Oh no' you whispered to yourself.

The realisation hit you and your whole body froze for a moment.

'Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no...'

You finally moved, grabbing your polearm off your back. Then you started running.

There was no time to safely climb down on the mountainside. You threw yourself off the cliff, slashing through the cold air and landing on your weapon. Running and jumping again like your whole life depended on it.

It probably did. The village was the only thing you wanted to live for after Scaramouche left.

Terrible guilt stabbed your heart. You couldn't believe you neglected the place and people you once swore to protect. You couldn't believe you actually forgot about them and selfishly only cared about your wounds even though they needed you.

And now they were attacked.

Fear crawled up on your spine as you jumped up from a cliff. You were pretty close to the village now.

Out of breath, you heart beating at a crazy speed but you were ready to take any monsters down.

You landed on your spear, slipped and fell painfully. But you were up on your feet in a blink of an eye, sprinting again.

The village was in a worse situation than you had imagined.

You ran through the gates and stopped, looking around to see where your help was needed the most.

It was needed everywhere.

Your eyes grew wide open.

The houses were on fire, burning and lighting up the night. People were running around in chaos, monsters chasing them. Abbys mages sent whole blaze bombs after them. They set everything on fire.

An abandoned child crying on the stairs. Her father fighting a mitachurl with a single hack. Mothers desperately trying to find their family.

The blood red flames reflected in your eyes as you stood there, numbed by the terrifying destruction.

You moved on your own as you clenched your fist around the spear.

You jumped at the speed of the light. One moment you were still standing under the gates and the next you flashed your way through a group of hilichurls.

There were just corpses left behind in your way.

An old man cried for your help when he saw you. He was trying to protect his house from an abyss mage.

You landed behind the monster. It heard the noise and tried to turn around.

But before it could've even moved an inch, your whole body strained then let loose. Hydro bursting out of your veins, it broke through the mage's shield in an instant.

It fell but never reached the ground. Your spear cut through it in mid-air.

'Thank you!' The old man panted, his entire body trembling. 'I...'

'Leave the village!' You yelled through the discord of screams and roars. 'Go to the bamboo forest!'

'But my house...'

'Leave. Now.' You ordered in a way that it was impossible to disobey.

Then you moved on.

Your aura was filled with tense hydro vibrating in the dark. It strangled the monsters with one touch but suffocated you as well.

But you didn't feel the pain at all. Everything inside you focused on the fighting and precise killing. You flashed from one side of the village to another, trying to save the people you swore to protect.

But even though your strength was almost non-human in these minutes of crisis it still felt incredibly lacking.

The whole village was on fire at this point. The abyss mages did not care about their puppets, they burned hilichurls as well as people.

Because there were so many of them.

You stopped for a moment to catch your breath and looked around desperately. There were so many monsters. And so many people you still needed to save.

The heat was unbearable. Sweatdrops streamed down your face despite the constant hydro aura surrounding you.

Suddenly the ground started shaking and you nearly fell over.

A lawachurl slammed his fists down. It let out a huge roar and turned to the closest person to it.

A frightened cry left your lips as you recognised the tiny figure.

Little Yu.

She rose her arms, shielding something behind her. She seemed almost fearless as she looked straight into the gigantic monster's eyes. But it was still a ridiculous try to stop the lawachurl.

It lifted its fists into the air, getting ready to cause another earthquake.

It swang it...

But before it could have reached the ground, you appeared in front of him out of blue.

Your spear cut through its left fist. The monster shook and roared in pain. It tried to grab you but you quickly dodged and sprang back.

The lawachurl let out a deep growl and slowly straightened up.

You couldn't help but feel ludicrously tiny compared to the huge figure. It started to manifest its geo shield. You stepped back in slight panic and glanced at Yu behind you.

'Y/n!' She cried out, grabbing the edge of your coat. 'I'm so happy you're here! Please protect us!'

You finally recognised the figure behind her. It was her wounded mother kneeling on the ground, bleeding out. Yet, the look in her daughter's eyes was brave and now hopeful.

She had faith in you. They all had their faith in you.

This thought was the only thing giving you strength.

You grabbed her arm and leaned closer to her as the lawachurl started walking towards you in the background.

Your heart was beating so fast it felt like exploding, the blood streaming in your veins hot and tense. But you still managed to sound calm when you spoke to the child.

'Listen carefully to what I have to say. Do you remember the spot where you met me and the harbinger a few days ago?' She nodded. 'Collect as many people as you can from the village and the bamboo forest and go there. Hide and don't come out until you're completely sure the monsters are gone. Do you understand?'

'Yes' she answered. But she still seemed hesitant.

'What is it?' You asked hastily for the lawachurl was getting closer to you with every passing moment.

'Will you be alright?' She asked, locking eyes with you.

'Of course' you gently pushed her backwards to her mother who seemed to have regained her consciousness. 'Now go!'

She nodded and helped her mother stand up. You made sure they got out of your zone safely.

Then turned around.

Just in time to see the lawachurl slamming down its fists.

You dodged and jumped upwards. Spun in the air and stabbed your spear infused with hydro into the monster's thick skin.

You landed safely on the ground with the bloody polearm in your grip.

The lawachurl roared so loudly that his voice shook the mountains. It swang towards you blinded by the pain but you dodged again.

You straightened up directly in front of it. Clenched your teeth together before quickly telling a quiet prayer.

You were ready to face all monsters.

#cliffhanger go brr muhaha #cloudenthusiast #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #scaramouche genshin #scaramouche angst #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #angst #genshin angst

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vadergf · 1 year

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everyone be like Alex quackity and STREAM

#quackity #corpse husband #Spotify

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unbrydledfury · 5 days

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- UNCUT -

( Hey everyone. For better readability, here's the entirety of Sons of Theseus in a single post. Please note this is enormous, clocking in at over 7300 words, so brace for a mountain of text under the Read More. If you'd like a TL;DR version, click here, though it contains spoilers, naturally.

The icons indicate separate posts. Snakes = Bryan's POV, owls = Dragunov's.

As far as content warnings go, please be aware this contains, in no particular order: canon-typical violence, brief gory depictions, lots of foul language, war, pain, and death.

Likes and comments are very appreciated! Thank you for reading! )

- 𓆚 -

The doors of the Chinese Theatre burst open and Bryan Fury stepped out into Southern Californian paradise. His audience roared with praise as he tugged the lapels of his suit jacket, his grin gleaming like the sun off his designer shades. Flanked by a cadre of slim supermodels in slim dresses, the cyborg descended amongst his adoring fans.

"Well done, darling," Dragunov murmured.

Despite the postcard weather and rock concert crowd, the pit of Bryan's stomach turned to frost. Never once had he heard Sergei speak. That was not the soldier's voice. That was his own.

Pale fingers trailed over his throat.

A heartbeat he did not have.

CRUN--

--nch.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

It had been a whirlwind, even by his standards. Receiving word from a Hollywood studio that wanted to tell his story was unexpected but interesting. He remembered walking into their office and shaking hands with the director -- yeah, that was him in the observation room, wearing a nametag from a private military company. They wanted to try a new technique, he said, a type of VR AI that captured and generated visuals from memories. Always willing to play my greatest hits, Bryan recalls saying. They'd strapped him in and turned it on. The next week had been a tour de force, carnage reimagined: gunning down insurgents in Middle Eastern deserts, plowing through waves of Zaibatsu even as his flesh tore like fishnets, a second extinction of the Manji clan.

Grinning, he loosed a nostalgic sigh. The little black box between his lungs was worth its weight in diamonds. He sent it a kind, simple query: where would I be without you?

He interpreted its response as followed: here, where you've been for the past one year, four months, and eleven days.

The researcher inched toward a door in the corner.

Still smiling, Bryan craned his head toward her. "Oh, you clever bastards," he muttered, and threw the broken helmet through the window, impacting the director's face with a spray of blood.

As he slumped to the ground, the others bolted. Seconds later the room was shrouded in red as an alarm blared. The woman with the laptop had her hand on the doorknob.

Guards are coming, she thought, trying to contain her panic and her bladder, It's okay, it'll be okay. The guards had guns. They'd take him out.

Yet he held her in front of him, his grip like iron. She had seen for herself Bryan's opinion on collateral damage.

Jackboots thundered closer.

His words were beetles in her ear: "Start talking."

- 𓅓 -

The Tattered Blackbird was one of many pubs in Kensington, yet as it came into view, Polya Dragunova's heart wedged itself in her throat. She cut across a gap in traffic and maneuvered past the businesspeople finished with work and waiting out rush hour milling on the sidewalk outside. The interior was worse, a veritable sardine can of twentysomething professionals reluctant to return to flats they shared with half a dozen of their peers. White collar gaggles blocked the typical pub decor from sight and a chorus of weekly gripes drowned the news on the TV over the bar. Polya didn't care about any of it. All that mattered to her was the man taking an entire booth to himself in the corner, sipping a pint like nothing was wrong.

Her brother.

Polya bowled her purse into the seat across from him hard enough to hit the wall with a heavy thud, and threw herself down right after. "Make it quick."

Sergei Dragunov steeled himself in the bottom of his glass. This was never going to be painless, but she needn't start swinging right off the bat. Fine. Very well. He could do quick. He tossed a yellow envelope onto the table, trying to ignore how his sister flinched.

She stared at it for a moment, then tore it open. The card inside was black, bordered in gold stars, YOU DID IT! printed under a paper mortarboard. Within were four salmon pink notes -- two hundred British pounds. She picked them up, watched their watermarks appear and hide in the light.

"What the fuck is this," she said.

Here we go, Sergei thought.

"No, really, what the fuck is this." Polya's features darkened to an apocalyptic scowl. "Is this a bribe? Are you fucking bribing me to talk to you? You could rob a fucking bank for me and I still wouldn't give you the time of day, you fucking fascist!"

Her volume was steadily rising. Dragunov could feel perplexed looks pointed toward their table.

She kept going. "I don't want your blood money. I don't want you in my life. I feel fucking stupid for even looking at your text. My graduation was really nice, you know? Going out with normal people, people who aren't war criminals. But then you drop out of the blue and my whole fucking week is ruined."

Sergei rubbed his brow, eyes squeezed shut, his other hand clutching his elbow. He had hoped otherwise, but couldn't deny the truth: this was a terrible mistake.

She was on her feet now, face livid, tossing the pounds at him. "No contact means no contact. How fucking dumb do you have to be to not get that?" Her voice was a bitter screech, every word a needle. "You're a drone. An ant. Disgusting. All you do is destroy -- innocent lives, my peace of mind, Mom's heart--"

"ENOUGH!"

The shout ripped from Dragunov's soul like a malfunctioning rocket, propelling him onto his feet and his fists onto the table. His throat immediately protested, nicotine-scented phlegm knotting in his windpipe. He couldn't breathe. What little air he could reach was spent on muddy, racking coughs until he was bent double, hacking black mucus into his palm.

A few pub patrons inched toward him, unsure about the situation but unwilling to watch him suffer. Sergei waved them off. Through blurred vision and blood pounding in his ears, he saw all eyes on him and Polya, stunned yet still trembling with rage.

It didn't matter. It didn't matter that he was protecting his home -- protecting her -- the only way he knew how, skimming money he could have easily spent on anything else for months to wish her the best. For someone who had spent four years mastering artistic expression, she refused to see an olive branch.

A long, loud tone blared from the TV. Breaking news. The general gaze turned toward the screen. Murmurs went up, hands clasped over mouths, cheeks drained of color.

Across an ocean, a city burned, and a demon proclaimed the end of the world.

Polya glanced between the broadcast and her brother. A curious paradox: he was right there, and so was the rest of the pub, yet seemed separated by lightyears. The thing on the television, the warning crawl about falling satellite debris, on the other hand, was as close as a dangling guillotine blade. And as her worldview sat on the chopping block, more than anything else, she felt very, very alone.

She looked for Sergei. The front door slammed, and he was gone.

- 𓆚 -

The Colosseum was an apt place to hold the Tournament. No amount of time could cleanse it from a history of bloodshed. Built to commemorate imperial power, a new emperor now sat at its head, eking judgements on nations from the fists and feet of their finest gladiators.

Not like Bryan cared. What the Colosseum needed, in his humble opinion, was some extra defacing.

Any wall would do, really. The one he was walking past now? Perfect. Ocular lenses flaring to compensate for the low light in the hypogeum tunnels, a smirk turned his lip as he pressed his finger against the stone. Simple was best. His name, a permanent mark on the world wonder, all caps, bigger and bolder than...

--shit.

The cyborg dropped his hand, his amusement extinguished like a match. He'd just done that. The memory of Hollywood was still fresh in his mind, even though it'd been a dream. Right? He'd felt the sun on his face. Smelled the perfume of his entourage. Reaching out, he stroked the wall. The rock was rough under his touch. He heard the spectators in the stands above calling for the next fight. This -- this was real. This was the King of Iron Fist Tournament! This was as real as it got! Combat against the best of the best for the highest stakes imaginable!

--which meant this very well could be an illusion too. If he could think it, there was a real possibility it was not real.

Bryan groaned, leaving the wall to its own devices. Life was better when I just killed people, he thought, I am never dealing with those fucks at Netflix again.

Turning a corner, he saw a group of men in military fatigues ahead. He heard the language they spoke, saw the flag patch on their shoulders. In their midst, leaning on his knees in a folding chair, uniform blue as an arctic sea, was Dragunov.

Fury froze. If this was all scripted, Sergei was the exact person who would make an entrance at this time. What was the next play? Approaching him fell right in line with whatever virtual plot was unfolding, if there even was one, but Bryan couldn't ignore him either. Breaking this chain of events would only cause new ones to form...

--if he was still being force-fed lies. Or was life simply chugging on?

--shit.

This was ridiculous. Why did it disturb him so much? Ultimately, there was no correct choice.

But there was a fun one.

Swaggering up to the convoy, Bryan grinned as chitchat died and hands flew to holstered guns. "Hey there, sunshine," he said, "Hah. You look like hell."

With the weight and chill of icebergs, Dragunov levelled a narrow stare at him. Bryan didn't remember him being so pale. Perhaps it was the contrast with the dirt on his clothes, the bruises on his face.

"Bet Shaheen looks worse," Fury continued, "Beat him half to death, didn't you. I'm sure he'll be fine. His country, though? You opened it up to the Zaibatsu's nasty little claws. A lot of people are going to die, Drag."

Expression unchanging, the Russian picked up a canteen, took a swig of water. The justification for his indifference was obvious: better them than us.

"Psch. Don't tell me you get your rocks off saving lives now. Wasn't that long ago you had the time of your life completely thrashing some of the very meat-bags in this ugly, old ruin. I know. I was there. Or did the thing in Vegas change your tune?"

The canteen paused halfway to the floor. Looking back, Sergei's gaze turned to a glare aflame with acrid cold.

That's it, Bryan thought, teeth bared in an ear-to-ear smile, There he is. "Y'know, between you and me, we could nip this whole fuckin' thing in the bud. C'mon. Kazuya is a purple people-eater, but you're an expert in that sorta shit and I'm me." He slowly shook his head. "There's gonna be no better time, Drag. We stopped a disaster before. Let's do it again."

Deliberately, as if facing down a prehistoric python coiled to strike, Dragunov rose to his feet.

The explosion tore down the tunnel in a shockwave of dust and pressure, knocking them all to the ground. Under the echoing roar of the blast and the rumble of ancient stone breaking came panicked screams from the crowd above.

Sprawled on his back, covered in grit, Bryan barely acknowledged the diagnostics crawling in his eyes. His body was fine. His grip on reality, however, felt as unstable as the fissures in the ceiling.

- 𓅓 -

Dragunov, meanwhile, scrambling to his feet, had other things in mind. Survival, first and foremost, and the well-being of his men. They had taken up positions with guns out and ready, but they were clearly scared out of their wits. These were not hardened operatives. These were boys fresh from basic, a scant few the Russian Army could spare, assigned simply to escort him to Italy to represent and defend the lives of his people. A relatively easy mission, until someone or something decided they could not leave well enough alone.

Creaking noises from above. It wasn't safe here. Grabbing his own sidearm, Sergei pointed into the tunnel in the direction of the blast and ran to take lead.

Behind them, moaning, Bryan began to rise.

Sounds of a stampede grew louder as they drew closer to the surface. They raced the cracks in the walls up a flight of stairs into an aboveground passageway. Despite the evacuation broadcast directing where to escape, a handful of panicked, bleeding spectators stumbled past them. Dragunov caught one, a man in a bright red Hawaiian shirt, by the shoulder, shoved him aside, and paid no heed as he plunged out of sight. For treating the fate of millions of innocents as primetime viewing, there was no salvation.

Another shockwave rocked the Colosseum. The floor rippled under his feet and fresh dust stung his face.

New voices ahead, shouting over the din. Sergei lifted a fist beside his face, calling his men to halt. An armed squadron corralled escaping civilians toward refuge. He could recognize their baby blue berets anywhere. They were UN.

Ravens.

Outrage smothered self-preservation. This went miles beyond meddling. This was escalation. The state of affairs was far from ideal, but in ruining the Saudi champion, Dragunov secured a measure of safety for Russia. Now these scavengers, these carcass eaters, jeopardized it all.

He raised his gun. His men aimed their rifles.

The next trickle of seconds lasted years.

A thunderclap from on high slammed them all to the ground once more. Dropped weapons scattered in every direction.

Horror speared his insides as the world went dark, but he was not blinded -- hellish clouds blotted out the sun and turned the air frigid.

Footfalls and terrified cries hammered around him as peacekeepers and his own soldiers fled.

Hauling himself to one knee, Dragunov caught glimpse of two glowing eyes. Bryan, standing at the top of the stairs, staring at him with uncertainty.

Outside, Azazel roared its rebirth--

--and the Colosseum finally gave up its ghost. The ceiling buckled, pouring an avalanche of stone, concrete, and steel.

Sergei had time for one, last thought: his family.

And he was overrun.

- 𓆚 -

"DRAG!"

Bryan ran towards the collapse before the dust had time to settle. A nova of light made him flinch, eyes overwhelmed by brilliance and turning the world even darker. His ears clocked the accompanying snarls as louder than jet engines. Whatever was happening in the arena, he didn't care. It didn't matter. A desperate mantra dominated his mind.

No. No. No.

Throwing pieces of rubble was too slow. His fists smashed stone and steel asunder.

No. No. No.

The knuckles of his right hand frayed, revealing black alloy underneath. He kept going.

No. No. NO.

His tether to normalcy couldn't leave him. He couldn't.

"DRAG!"

There. A line of a blue sleeve amidst heaps of gray. All of Bryan's CPUs cycled faster as he tore through the last pile of rock. They would laugh about this later over drinks in a dive bar, how Fury dug him up like buried treasure--

--sudden realization turned Bryan motionless.

He freed Dragunov, all right, but those insides were not supposed to be outsides.

The cyborg sank to his knees. It did not compute. It was unthinkable.

And because it was, it was real. This was not a dream-- --this was nightmare.

Time became unmoored this far north. The sky, full of chrome clouds, concealed the position of the sun. It could be noon, it could be half past midnight. The harbor jutting into the Barents Sea was bathed in a nondescript un-light, the snow tinged gray with the various drippings of loitering military vehicles. Two men, bundled head-to-toe against the numbing cold and carrying automatic rifles, stood at attention on either side of an enormous, circular blast door embedded in the rocky cliffside. When Bryan Fury crested the other side of the harbor, their thick snow goggles hid any reaction.

The cyborg, for his part, felt nothing. Had felt nothing since the Colosseum. A hurricane inhabited his head. There were no thoughts, no foresight -- just a Category 5 maelstrom of barbed wire, sheared metal, and whipping winds. A complex of commands kicked on from somewhere in the bowels of his machinery and roared in animal defiance for the past twenty-four hundred miles and forty hours. He had paused only to hijack another car or truck when his latest ride fell apart, overworked and riddled with ammunition.

His trek crossed seven countries, and all mobilized against him. It was a blur of battlefields, the stink of burning explosive clinging to what remained of his skin. His black and red endoskeleton was littered in chips and tears and coated in layers of dust, ash, and dried blood. Some part of him dripped inky fluid, forming a dark trail as he approached the door.

Behind him dragged a rope tied to a wood crate.

The guards remained still as he drew within twenty paces. It was possible they were robots. Bryan had faced enough of those crossing most of Eastern Europe, both Zaibatsu and G Corp made. Not even a glance as Fury wrenched the rope around, flinging the crate forward in a dizzying spin across the slush until it slid to a halt.

His voice, with ballistic volume: "FIX HIM."

Utter silence. Finally, in unison, the guards stepped away from the door. Locks disengaged with bangs and groans like breaking sea ice, and it sluggishly swung open.

Bryan grabbed the rope and entered the Gold Raptors base.

The ramp was a steady decline illuminated by florescent lamps, their bumblebee hum the only sound aside the rumble of circulated air and the scrrrrp of wood on concrete, leading to a massive hangar. All that moved were motes of dust. A single light over an elevator gleamed in the otherwise cavernous shadows.

Had Fury still the capacity for nuance, he would have been offended at the blatant instruction, but that was long discarded back in Italy. The prime directive came closer with every step. Nothing else mattered.

The elevator opened on its own. Bryan stepped in, crate in tow, and descended one thousand feet into the earth.

It delivered him to a hallway. The layout was familiar -- he'd been in a containment wing before. As he walked down the empty corridor, he spared the briefest glances through the viewports on various doors. This was where they housed the horrors. A rust red boar the size of an elephant -- a ballerina in arabesque, perpetually aflame -- clumpy smoke with yellow eyes orbiting an antique stove--

One door unlocked with an electronic buzz and click. He went in.

Tubes and cables, some as wide as Bryan's torso, ran like entrails across the floor, snaked up the walls, and hung from the ceiling. Monitoring equipment sat in powerless consoles. Something on the other end of the cell glowed a sunset halo. Fury approached.

At first, he couldn't tell what it was. It resembled a giant steel fennel seed, seven feet long and cherry red. It sat embedded in a nest of metal spines that seemed to grow out of the wall itself, a lattice of iron urchins dark as interstellar space. Its upper half was transparent, revealing a hollow interior full of raw chicken pink fluid.

Suspended within was Dragunov.

For the first time in hours, miles, and devastated countries, the storm in Bryan's mind dissipated, and clarity returned to him. The journey, his wounds, all were forgotten.

A gentle crack, and the cradle unhinged open. Looking in, Fury noted the soldier was nude, hair floating around his face, eyes closed, breathing. Fast asleep, not a trace of tension in his body. Covered in scars.

Beautiful, Bryan thought.

Distant rumbling came closer, building into an electric roar. Arcs of lightning tore through the cell, bounding off the tubes and cables. Bryan barely had time to brace himself, but the surge danced around him and drove directly into the cradle itself with a deafening bellow.

Sergei opened his eyes.

An instant later, he wrenched himself upright, shouting in pain, pink fluid sloshing onto the floor. He clung to the side of the cradle, knuckles white, wheezing as his lungs filled with air.

Bryan knelt so they were face-to-face. Dragunov, wet, naked, and trembling, was exquisite. More importantly: he was alive. The nightmare was over, and the world was finally, undeniably real.

Eyes and smile glowing, Fury cocked his head playfully, chin resting on his hand. "First time?"

Dragunov punched him in the jaw.

- 𓅓 -

Chaos. Utter disarray. There was no other way to describe it. Dragunov felt his mind had melted and he was scrambling for handholds in a titanic whirlpool of impossibilities. The Colosseum. He remembered that -- remembered an instant of crushing pressure, the familiar sound of bones cracking deafening in his ears. What happened? Why was he drenched? Why the fuck was Bryan here?

"Welcome back."

A single screen on an otherwise dark console burst on. The grainy picture displayed the silhouette of a man, his details obscured by the brilliant spotlights behind him. He sat in a chair, one leg across the other, hands folded in his lap.

Sergei knew him by his voice and, despite his tremors, saluted. The man was the Major, the head of the Gold Raptors.

"At ease," he said.

Dragunov dropped his hand. Better to keep hold of the cradle. It was more grounded than he felt himself.

Moaning, rubbing the pain from his face, Fury hauled himself to a seat on a wooden crate. Why was that there?

"You have many questions," the Major continued, "I shall answer the most pertinent, as time is of the essence. At 13:44 hours CET, forty-one hours and three minutes ago, you were killed by traumatic asphyxia. Through anomalous methods at our disposal, you have been resurrected, your self duplicated from a remote biotic snapshot taken at the moment of your death. We have made some minor adjustments to your overall physical condition, including removal of the stage three tumors in your lungs and trachea."

Oh. That explained the perfluorocarbon bath. Sweeping loose hair out of his eyes, Sergei peered over the edge of the cradle. Yes, he recognized the spines now. They'd been extracted from the bottom of the sea not far from here, come to think of it. There had been some chatter about potential cross-testing with other specimens in the past.

-- wait, what was that last par--

"You will be deployed immediately to Yakushima in Japan to represent Gold Raptors' interests in the area," the Major said. He leaned closer, voice graveyard cold. "Your reconstruction goes against the core tenets of our organization. That you are our best option, even in death, for combatting this threat to global security is the only reason we did so. Do not squander the gifts we have given you, Admiral Dragunov." He settled back. "You are dismissed."

The screen blinked to black.

Sergei's throat was tight -- with emotion. The plug was pulled on the vortex, flushing it down the proverbial drain and leaving an unfamiliar residue: fear. He palmed his heart, its two-step steady. My God, he thought. They scrubbed him out like an old iron pot.

God, my God.

Two men in white coats entered the room. One carried a blanket.

What choice did he have? His mission, and he had to accept it, was abundantly clear. Once spetsnaz, always spetsnaz. Death would have him when he was no longer needed.

Resolving himself, Dragunov climbed out of the cradle. He had a job to do.

He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and departed the room, white-coats in tow. He wished he had a hair tie.

With little option himself, Bryan followed, scowling as he processed what just happened. This reality was weird.

The twinkle of moon blue grit in the cradle water went unnoticed.

- 𓆚 -

International borders again, this time on fast forward. Bryan had last been on a military aircraft that had willingly carried him two lifetimes ago. Looking out a window at the approaching island made his pistons clench in excitement.

Dragunov, not so much. He looked fantastic in tactical armor, that was a given. Kevlar suited him, and the red beret a no-brainer. It was the scowl, heavier than usual, that soured the atmosphere of the entire cargo hold. Didn't he care about the morale of his men?

Crossing the belly of the beast towards him, Bryan patted a pallet bristling with weaponry, gun barrels poking out at random. "Couldn't decide what to get from your boys, so I ordered one of everything."

Nothing. Not so much as a wayward glance.

Dragunov had no one but himself to blame for his terrible mood. Back at base, while being patched up with new synthetic skin, Fury caught him investigating the wood crate. "I wouldn't look in there if I were you," Bryan had hollered.

Sergei gave two seconds consideration. A pointed finger dropped with sledgehammer finality. A crowbar made quick work of the lid.

The green stench of decay bloomed over the entire medical bay. To the Raptors' credit, there had been less revulsion than Bryan expected, their doctors and nurses hardened by routine treatment of anomalous illness and injury, but heads still turned away, lunches still fought down.

Sergei stared into the contents of the crate for a long time. The pulped tangle inside stared back.

He waved his hand once. The lid was replaced, the crate taken away.

There was the gurgle of a flamethrower. Barbeque scents.

Fury looked around the hold. Somber faces on every soldier. Being a complete sad-sack had to be a prerequisite for joining the Gold Raptors. At least they all perked up when he kicked the pallet closer to the cargo hatch. "C'mon, boys and girls," he cried, "Who hasn't wanted to visit Japan? I hear there's a chance of hail. Bullet hail, courtesy of yours truly. Hey, everyone strapped in?"

Yanking a lever on the wall bathed the hold in red warning light and drilling klaxons as the hatch bowed open. Howling wind threatened to suction out anything not battened down. The pallet spilled over the edge and out of sight.

Bryan turned back to Dragunov. Sergei still sneered, but there was a new glint in his eye -- a let's get this done hardened resolve. Fury knew it well. He'd seen it before every fight they'd had, with or against each other. It meant someone or something was in for a world of pain. It meant Dragunov was feeling better. Feeling himself.

He'd be fine.

Grinning, Bryan bowed like a Hollywood actor, and jumped from the plane.

An instant of freezing freefall, synthetic muscles bracing, then impact -- jarring, dirt and debris flying, barely tickled. Brushing off his pants -- the leather scuffed, but oh well, plenty of alligators in the sea -- he approached the pallet. It hadn't survived the drop, guns strewn like a popped pimple. No problem, it just meant he could fine tune his selection. He thought he wouldn't be thinking again soon. The storm was already blowing.

Zaibatsu forces already took up position in a valley. G Corp had the high ground. Oh, this was going to be good. A real two-for-one deal, with Tournament morons sprinkled on top.

Bryan lifted the Gatling gun. It was time to make new memories.

- 𓅓 -

Back in the saddle again. Dragunov could do this in his sleep. He could do this dead.

No. No, don't think about that. Don't think about being alive for just over twelve hours. That doesn't help anyone. That doesn't keep his people safe. Focus.

It's hard when it's this easy though. The Raptors had hardly been deployed yet. Sergei and his squad watched the battle unfold from their vantage point halfway up a mountainside. This was not their fight. At the first sign of anomalous behavior, it would be.

He let one or two of his soldiers pick off a target every so often. Someone who looked important. Someone who would make the course of events more entertaining if they died. Dragunov spotted them through binoculars, relayed positions through gesture. These were veteran Raptors. They understood.

A sniper rifle blasted. In the valley, a head popped. Business as usual.

It was almost boring.

A flash of yellow in Sergei's sights caught him off-guard. Frowning, he looked again. It was King, complete with full feathered regalia. King. Really? Was G Corp that strapped for combatants, they had to send in a Mexican wrestler? This wasn't a battlefield, this was a goddamn three-ring circus.

It would be mildly interesting to see what kind of skull lay under that stupid mask. Dragunov pointed into the valley. It wasn't hard to determine who he wanted killed. Shifting her stance, the Raptor sniper took aim. Crosshairs centered on golden fur and black rosettes. Her finger tightened on the trigger.

The Doppler effect broke open overhead, crashing waves of sound down upon them. A plane, black as night, Zaibatsu emblem on its sides, crested the mountaintop then dipped downward. A bombing run. Its payload hung one-handed underneath, over seven feet tall with veins of electric red.

Sergei's pulse quickened. They had no intel on a new Jack model. Despite superior numbers, Zaibatsu forces were losing ground. That they chose to utilize it now made his hair stand on end. If this was their ace in the hole, what made it so?

The possibility of anomalous enhancement could not be ignored. Dragunov swung his arm ahead. The Raptors moved.

The terrain was steep and rocky, a combination that required careful planning of every footfall. By the time they had descended, the war had advanced to meet them. Blood, dirt, and gunpowder hung heavy in the air. Dragunov didn't remember combat smelling this way, itchy on his skin.

The difference a new windpipe makes, he thought, and before that train could start rolling, something slammed hard into his side. He lost balance, fell end-over-end down the slope.

His brain kept going after his body rolled to a stop. Until now, all he had experience had been discomfort compared to this. This hurt, and his factory settings flesh had no idea how to deal with it. Groaning, he crawled to all fours, looked up.

Who wore a white suit to a combat zone?

- 𓆚 -

Wholesale slaughter -- now that was living. Biopics? Overrated. Celebrity? Not when you had infamy. The movie studio thing had been a novelty, sure, but the killing fields was where Bryan shone.

He'd long lost track of his body count.

It was incredible, really. From his perspective behind the Gat, deep amidst the torrents of bullets and bodies, the Zaibatsu and G Corp forces were schools of minnows, and he a shark. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. The gun mowed them down like grass, blood spraying, severed limbs flying, their death screams music to his ears.

He might have been laughing. He could not hear himself over the storm's hellish shrieking in his mind.

A flash of lightning blue caught the corner of his eye. A pink-haired pixie, darting between volleys of shots.

Fury grinned, his targeting reticules locked onto her every movement. Could this day get any better? Boots on the ground, tank shells in the air, destruction and agony and he in the thick of it, pushing the world order into a whirling blender of meat hooks and razor winds, and now this, the chance to forever exterminate a challenge to his throne of Doctor Bosconovitch's Greatest Contribution to Mankind. Forget seedy Chinese alleyways, downing fighter jets in flight with just a girder -- fuck, forget Yoshimitsu. This was going to top the charts.

He swung the Gat around, aimed slightly ahead of her. The barrel spun up with an eager squeal.

--then there, below her, an un-color that did not belong to nature, distracting him. Radioactive bubblegum. In the sheath of a sword. That was slashing Dragunov in two.

No.

Bryan froze. A beam of light burst through his tempest, rooting him to the ground. He could only watch as the old stranger's blade left a deep, steaming gouge in Sergei's chest armor. Dragunov raised his arms to block the next two cleaves only to catch the handle on the backswing with his face. He collapsed to his knees.

Bryan dropped the Gat.

No. No.

Sergei craned his head up. Wiping his knuckles across his cheek left a comet tail of blood. Resurrection had placed him right back in meat. Fallible meat, as Fury knew too well.

Dragunov tried to stand. His face twisted in agony as a leg failed to respond, stiff as a board. As rigor mortis.

He was not fine.

No. No. NO.

Bryan grabbed the reins of his mental storm, willed it to his feet to fly him the twenty paces between himself and the injured Russian. Each step echoed like a hammer. A heartbeat. The sea of bodies around him dissolved their details into bruised, sickly smog. Reality was soup, and he fought time's quagmire with every carbon fiber of his being.

The stranger lifted his sword for the killing blow.

NO NO NO NO--

Impact. A millisecond's awareness to brace Sergei's neck as momentum raced them onward and gravity tore them down. A dozen jolts and blows as the ground got its licks in. One last tumble before the world came to a halt.

He'd ended up on top of Sergei. Grabbing him by the bulletproof vest, Bryan yanked him close, eyes burning with crazed desperation.

"You fucking moron," Fury cried, shaking him, "I can't lose you again!"

Under him, Dragunov's mouth was slack with shock, then confusion. Bryan gave him a once-over, hunting for wounds. They put him in meat, how cruel was--

--there was a combat knife in his fist.

Oh. OH.

Sergei was a spetsnaz super-agent with enough CQC tactics to massacre an army, and playing possum was well within his repertoire. Just because it was the oldest trick in the book did not make it inviable. Hell, Bryan had seen him do it before. There was that time in Barcelona against father and son Laws. He'd laid on the floor of the -- bar? restaurant? dance club? Fury didn't remember -- feigning unconsciousness, and when Law the Younger went to investigate, he'd surged forward and toppled him, kind of like what'd just happened, and the look on Dragunov's face turned volcanic with rage, and then Bryan had eleven inches of sharpened steel embedded in his thigh.

Fury howled as white-hot pain lanced up his side. Sergei shoved him off, scrambled to his feet. Bryan winced as he yanked the knife free.

The emotions bristling on Dragunov's face were fascinating. Anger, volatile, ready to explode at any moment, lined with disbelief. He had the man in the white suit right where he wanted, doing exactly what he wanted. Now he still lived. A Raven, if the anomalous weapon proved anything, one of Sergei's killers, still lived.

"Oh, ex-fucking-scuse me," Fury bellowed, tossing the knife away, "If you didn't look like such a bitch--"

Dragunov ran at the cyborg, throwing his entire body behind his fist.

To an observer, the fight was initially any other slugfest. But as it progressed, something changed. A cadence emerged -- punches and kicks dealt with surgical finesse, energy conserved or spent with atomic accuracy, bodies moving with dancer's grace. Sergei and Bryan had done this before, helpless to resist the primordial hatred burning in their veins and cables. Neither man wanted to. It felt right. All of spacetime could crunch down to their bubble of violence; they wouldn't care. In their grimaces, their spilled blood, they were singing.

I hate you, I loathe you, I could do this forever.

But good things had to come to an end.

Bryan saw it first -- a purple thorn hanging in the sky. "The hell is tha--"

Flames rained from above, dousing everything in eldritch plasma.

- 𓅓 -

It was eerily quiet. Nature abhorred a vacuum, and soon the air would prickle with the moans of the pained and dying, but Dragunov, armor smoldering, took the opportunity to lie on the dirt. Just for a moment. There was peace amongst the pebbles.

Behind him, Bryan coughed a cloud of dust. Time to get up.

He wrenched himself onto an elbow, giving himself enough of a vantage point to see the aftermath. Huge, steaming fissures stretched from one side of the valley to the other. Half-melted tanks sat in piles of useless slag. Smoke billowed like parades of pallbearers into the ashen expanse. Beneath, those who remained clung to their last ounces of strength.

A thought occurred to him: who was he kidding?

In less than an instant, hundreds had been vaporized. How was he meant not only to compete with that, but triumph? An ant would have a better chance leveling a mountain. Once upon a time, there had been a man who could do that, his faith his shield against the devil. That man was dead. The thing that bore his name, ordered his soldiers, and defended the fate of his nation was a pale imitation in comparison. A cracked, oozing egg, rotting from the inside out.

Sergei sank back to the earth.

Blessed silence.

Behind him, again: thop-shff, thop-shff. Bryan, pulling himself over by one arm. Judging himself close enough, the cyborg rolled onto his back, loosed a harsh breath. "Hey, Drag?"

Muffled against the soil: "Nnm?"

"That fuckin' hurt."

Yes. It did.

More quiet, infiltrated by a breeze. Sergei raised his face to catch its freshness.

"Like...how did you do that? I've been in a lot of knife fights, but that's a first."

--what?

Strangling the protests of his aching flesh, Dragunov heaved himself to his knees. Bryan himself sat up, pulling apart the gash in his pants to stare at the deep puncture in his leg. "You stabbed me between the muscles," he said, "Muscles that can stop bullets. If I had a femoral, I'd be bleeding like a stuck pig." He looked at the Russian, face slack with sincere awe. "You weren't even trying. You just did it. I mean, you have past experience with my thighs, but...whole armies have wanted me dead for years. You killed me two minutes ago with no effort."

Yes. Yes, he did that. Sergei alone had accomplished something no one else on the planet could, not even the man he used to be. And as realization sank in, heat like molten iron blossomed from his chest, spreading to his fingertips and pooling in his toes. He was not damaged, he was hatching, even if he did not know what form the wings within him would take.

It didn't matter. He was seen. He was known.

It must have shown on his face because Bryan's expression lit up, a grin crawling from ear to ear. Just like old times, baby, that grin said, The world lies at our feet.

A tremor tore through the ground. In the distance, a stadium-sized chunk of rock blasted into the sky, shrouded in a veil of supersonic flight. It tore past the clouds for a destination in the upper atmosphere.

"Oh, get over yourselves," Bryan yelled. Grunting with pain, he threw a stone after it. It clattered far short of its mark.

Dragunov, meanwhile, watched as his Raptors emerged from cover. They seemed no worse for wear, shedding their combat gear for hazmat suits. Using modified Geiger counters, they fanned out across the battlefield, searching for anomalous particles left in the wake of the purple flames, pausing only to execute anyone dying in their paths. By the number of samples they took, the results were promising.

"So...now what?"

Sergei didn't bother glancing at Fury as the cyborg scooted next to him. He was not actually asking for advice. He was testing the waters. Once he knew where Dragunov's mood lay--

"Got it!" Bryan leveled a finger between Sergei's eyes. "You need a vacation. That's what I did last time I cheated death. It's good for you, y'know. Do some soul searching. Figure out what's real to you." A beat. "Uh, I'm going with you, of course. If you want."

Dragunov let his lip curl in a small smile. Yes. He did want.

Somewhere on the steaming wastes, welcoming the dawn of a new age, someone was whistling.

- FIN -

#t: sons of theseus #blizzardrush #( cut for length )#( seriously this is a large lad )

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corpsedaydream · 4 years

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hi i love ur work so much and i had a request! corpse and reader are dating and she isn’t necessarily what fans think his type is. she isn’t really goth and doesn’t watch anime so when she sees corpse talking about e girls and goth girls and all that stuff she feels left out and like she isn’t who he wants to be with, and when he’s streaming with her (she’s also a youtuber), he’s like talking about an anime show and reader feels left out and the whole live chat is just saying how she doesn’t belong there and that corpse could do so much better ect. so she has a breakdown in the bathroom and he reads the comments about her and gets upset and defends her which ends with him cuddling the fuck out of her and kissing away her tears idk just angst with a fluffy ending please i’m desperate 😔✌️💗

ooooooooooof i put myself in all the feels writing this and now i’m meant to just go to sleep like i’m not feeling some type of way smh

but!!!!!!!! i like how it turned out hehe, hope u enjoy

word count: 1.5k

_________________________

beach baby

Your freckles were a lot more prominent lately, but that was always something that happened during this time of year when summer was quickly approaching. As much as you felt a little insecure by the the little marks that were dotted all over your body, it came hand in hand with the excitement of being able to do all of your favourite things that just felt better to do in summer.

You were a beach baby through and through. Growing up, you lived in the one house your whole life that was right by the beach and when your family went on holidays, it was always to a holiday house that was by another beach. You could swim before you could walk or talk. When you did learn how to walk, your parents realised they had to keep an extra close eye on you at the beach because you’d always run down to the waves, not realising the danger in your toddler years. When you watched The Little Mermaid for the first time, you begged your mother to turn you into a mermaid so you could live a life under the sea. When you were a kid getting picked up from school, your after school activity was going to the beach. Whenever the school swimming carnival rolled around, it was always you who got nominated to do the races. When you were a dramatic teenager and found out the boy you liked kissed someone else, you went to the beach and wrote his name in the sand just to watch it get washed away by the sea.

Your life had always involved the beach and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Whenever the idea of falling in love with someone popped into your mind, you always thought it would happen with the beach involved in some way. And there had been a few surfer boys you’d had flings with, but none stuck. They never really made an impact on you.

But Corpse had.

The two of you were an unlikely pairing, the absolute definition of opposites attract, but it worked.

You’d met at a mutual friends house by chance and there was an undeniable spark from that very first moment.

“Sitting under the moon is a lot better than the sun.” The two of you had found yourselves in a light hearted argument that very first night. After getting introduced and realising there was a pull between you both, he had eventually grabbed your hand and brought you to come sit up on the rooftop with him.

“What? No way, dude.” You shook your head and laughed, he was everything you weren’t but all you wanted. “The moon is so pretty,” You agreed with him, “but the sun makes you warm and it’s so pretty when the sky is all blue with a couple of cute, white fluffy clouds. That’s the perfect weather to be out and about.”

“If you like going out and about.”

“You don’t like going outside?”

“Nah,” Corpse hesitated, contemplating on how honest he should be with the girl he’d just met but was feeling so comfortable around. “I can’t handle the world sometimes, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. If someone came up to me and said you can spend your whole life under water as a mermaid but never be able to come back on land, I’d seriously consider.”

“Even after meeting me?” The tone shifted back to the playful flirting and you were grateful for it.

“Shut up and admire your moon.”

“I will, after all, the night sky is far superior.” He was holding firm in his opinion.

“I think it’s all really pretty.” You said honestly, and it was the truth. You were just as hypnotised by a moonlit sky with stars sparkling as you were with a daytime sky.

“I think you’re really pretty.”

He’d had your heart from that moment.

You’d actually gone to the beach today and spent a solid few hours there with friends and it had put you in such a blissful state. Making the drive to your boyfriends place so enjoyable, because you were also very excited to see him.

He’d left the door unlocked when you messaged him saying you were on your way. So when you arrived you let yourself in, shutting and locking the front door behind you, knowing Corpse was streaming and you were going to join him.

“Hi.” You whispered, opening the door to his office, not knowing if you should let your presence be known to stream yet. You always felt a little nervous when it came to his fans. The first time you joined him in a stream, all you could concentrate on was the amount of messages that stated how you were exactly wrong for Corpse. How you were the opposite to who he should be with. From there, it only progressed. You saw the hate comments and negative things that some of them had to say about you and it hurt.

“She’s here!” Corpse announced, so at least it was known to them that you would be joining him at some point, they had some warning and you hoped it meant you would receive a warmer welcome. “Hey, baby, get over here.” He opened his arms and you sat down on his lap, greeting him with a kiss before you both brought your attention back to his stream.

“Hi guys!” You greeted the stream, cautiously looking over the influx of messages, waiting for something negative but it seemed they were asking you about something. “I can see you guys asking, but I don’t really know what you’re talking about...” You trailed off before looking at Corpse. “What were you talking about?”

“Oh...” He started, “we were talking about an anime. (Y/N) isn’t really into anime, guys.” He laughed and you smiled but you could feel the anxiety start to build, you just knew this was going to cause a wave of hate to you.

“Hey, I loved Sailor Moon and Pokemon when I was a kid.” You attempted to make a joke, thinking it would gain approval of his fans but it only caused them to react worse.

The chat started moving faster, messages of,

‘LMAO of course she doesn’t know what we’re talking about’

‘Did she really just say Pokemon? She’s fucking basic’

‘What a fucking dumbass’

‘Dump her ass Corpse’

‘Ugh why the fuck did she come?’

‘WE DONT WANT YOU HERE’

‘Fuck off (Y/N)’

‘Corpse you can do so much better’

You could feel the tears welling up, each comment being another jab and you knew you had to leave or you would cry right there and they’d all hear just how they had gotten to you. Quickly, you got up, ignoring Corpse calling after you and trying to reach for you to bring you back to him.

Making your way to the bathroom, you washed your face in an attempt to calm yourself but it didn’t work at all. So instead, you sunk to the floor and let yourself cry. You couldn’t understand why they hated you, you loved him so much for exactly who he was, just as they did. Couldn’t they be happy if who he was with made him happy? Negative thoughts were swirling your mind. They were getting to you.

“(Y/N)?” Corpse cracked the door open, his face full of worry as he stepped inside the bathroom. “Oh, baby, hey, hey,” He was by your side in a moment, his hands finding your sun kissed cheeks as he left a kiss against your head before finding your vision. “I saw what they were saying. They’re wrong.”

“But what if they’re not, Corpse?” You couldn’t help but to argue back. “You deserve someone better for you.”

“Stop it, stop right now.”

“No, I mean, look at us... We’re complete opposites.”

“And so?” He responded. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, of course I do.”

“That’s all that matters.” He told you, and you knew he was right, it was just the hate comments were really playing on your mind.

“Is it, though? Don’t you want someone else?”

“No. Fuck no.” He wrapped his arms around you then, he knew you really needed reassurance right now and he was going to give it to you. “You’re fucking perfect, baby. My beach baby, I only want you.” He told you, bringing you onto his lap once more, only now you were on the bathroom floor. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, needing to be close to him.

“Please don’t leave me.” Your voice was barely audible when you’d whispered that but he heard it and it crushed his heart to know it was his audience that had made you feel this way.

“I won’t, ever.” He assured you, he was cradling you with a force now, ever so slightly rocking the two of you back and forth. “You don’t ever have to ask me that, I’m not going anywhere.”

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse imagine #corpse husband imagine #corpse x reader #request #writing #mine #GOODNIGHT #Anonymous #answered

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