#three ended up looking too young here i imagine it being the same age as murderbot | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

orphicrose · 2 months

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Are you still doing requests? Can I request Alastor x Wife reader who were married together alive an reunited in hell and while Alastor hates modern tech the reader grew on it and even started a life hack channel on voxtube of tricks from the 1920s and it becomes really popular and she gets sponsors and fan mail meanwhile Alastor needs Angel's help just to video chat her and one day she gets a 5 million subscriber mileage congratulations gift box (that all creators get bit hes still mad) from Vox himself

Old man and an Iphone

Requests are still open indeed.

I can definitely do my best! I’ve changed the dates around a little to better fit the technology advancements in the universe. This is set in the early 2000s

This is somewhat small, but i hope you like it.

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Years passed like turning pages since your husband had departed from you, in the cruelest ways that anyone could imagine. A fate that wasn’t even inevitable. That singular fragile piece of metal, shot from an unknown hunter, took him away from you.

You knew who he was, you knew what he was. Knowing that you’d end up in the same temple of horror one day that he has. His sins being your sins. That brought you some peace. Knowing you’d be reunited one day. Even if it was in the worst place imaginable. Hell. That day came sooner than you’d like to admit. Leaving behind your clueless grandchildren and your own hellish spawn.

The ground below you hit rather hard, not even knowing you were falling down the rabbit hole till the bottom came right to your face. You let off a grunt in response. Your body feeling light, all of a sudden. As if the age and wrinkles had just vanished, and you were young again. Legs feeling like they could run miles, and skin, well. Your new hellish form wasn’t much of an improvement from leather skin.

Knowing for years you’d end up here, it wasn’t too difficult to take in. Accepting your sins and your fate as a part of your journey. It wasn’t so bad. There was society, and structure down here. Immortality being the only true torture.

The other torture, you had no idea where your dearest Alastor had ended up. It had been almost 70 years since you’d seen him, god knows what he looks like now. Your reunion was sudden, after all, he was a well known overlord. Yet, it was still something out of a textbook romance novel.

Over the next decade or two, you two spent every second together. Refusing to be apart again. You sharing stories about your children, grandchildren. Melting Alastor's heart like he never thought you could. There was so much catching up to do. After time, you became infatuated with the media, creating your own channel. it was called "Hellish crafts", which started with a bunch of silly tips and tricks when it comes to house work. Alastor didn't understand, but it came with a hefty income.

After becoming tenants at the misguided daughters of hells hotel, you soon began helping with advertisements. Which grew the channel even more. From random life hacks, to advertisements, to smaller channels asking you for your help to grow theirs.

"Must you film me, dear?" his hand covers his face as the camera fizzes out of focus.

"Yes! Its for Charlie. Lighten up old man" You teased him, filming the hotel lobby. He smiled at your expression, resting a hand on the small of your back as you did your craft.

"Y/n! Y/n! Another letter for you!" Niffty ran over

Alastors hand dropped, snatching the letter from the little goblin.. Eyebrows furrowed. "This is the third letter in the passed three days, sweetheart"

"What can i say, my channel is a hit" One eye was closed as the other was pressed to the run down camera that Alastor insisted you used. Still walking slowly around the hotel, trying to get a good shot. Alastor stood in his place, reading the letter. "Another delusional fan" He mumbled.

"Don't worry! i wont let the fame go to my head" You swung around with the camera, getting him in frame. The static of his aura interfered with the lens and gave your brow a small electric shock. Jolting you backwards.

"I've warned you about that" He chuckled, hand returning to your waist and pulling you closer. His other hand with the letter, raising, and a fit of flames emitted. Turning the letter into ash on the floor, which nifty didn't wait to clean up.

Life was like this for a while, constant letters. Some weird, some genuine. But you never got to read most of them, as Alastor made it his duty to send them to another realm before you could. was he jealous? maybe, he'd never care to admit it though. That was until a rather glamorous piece of paper fell through the letter box on this particular day. Stamped with Vox's logo. You got to this letter first.

"What the fuck?" Your almost angry tone alerted Alastor, whose body materialized next to yours in seconds. "What's the matter, my dear?" his eyes briefly scanned over the letter before snatching it from you.

"What is a 5 million subscriber?"

"Its the amount of people who support my channel, i honestly didn't even know it was that big." you stared up at him, waiting for some sort of outburst on his face.

"That's... " he thought for a second "Wonderful dear! Absolutely wonderful!" his arms wrapped around you in an embrace, spinning you around. When you first started the channel, with his knowledge, it was more of a way to pass the time. So, for it to be as big as it is now was quite the accomplishment. What kind of husband would he be not to support his perfect wife, he thought. Whether she was practically paying vox or not. His quarrels weren't hers.

"I believe you have some type of reward, y/n" He spoke again, putting you down and giving the letter back. His sharp nail pointed at a fine print at the bottom. 'Visit the Vee headquarters to redeem your reward'.

You both looked at each other, brows raised and a concerned look in your eyes. "I'm sure it's not important. I don't need a reward"

He looked as if he was in deep thought. Contemplating everything for a second. "You should go" "But vox is your-"

"Hush, little woman" His finger covered your lips "This is important to you darling. I trust you"

The smile on your face made his bigger, making you deserving of the little peck he placed on your lips before adjusting his posture. "On the condition that my shadow follows your every move"

"Done"

A few hours had passed since your departure, Charlie offering razzle and dazzle to escort you to the large mansion on the other side of the pentagram. It was quite the journey, considering the traffic. And it wasn't long before Alastor began to miss you, wondering if you were okay.

"Ahem" static gave Angel a brief episode of tinnitus before he swung his body on the lobby sofa, met with the lanky deer.

"Waddya want, pimp?" his attention didn't last long, his phone having far more interesting contents than the demon lurking behind him.

"I need a favor" his smile made the question seem a lot more sadistic than intended. His body swiftly moved around the sofa, standing in front of the spider now.

"If you want my soul, I got bad news for ya."

"Your soul?" He was almost confused for a second "No, i need help with this" he lifted his hand, angels phone disappearing and reappearing in the deer's grip.

"Wh- hey! Give that back" Angel leapt to his feet, reaching up and snatching it back. "Why do you want help with a phone? Aren't you like, from the dark ages?"

It took Alastor a moment to be able to admit to it. "I'd like... to call my wife"

"Awww, is someone clingy" angels teasing didn't last long before radio dials appeared in the demons eyes, radio interference filling the air as quickly as it had disappeared earlier. "Okay, okay" Angels hands flew up in surrender, Alastor returning to normal instantly. "Splended!"

It took a moment for Angel to flick through the thousands of contacts he had, before he finally reached you. Pressing the call button and handing the phone to Al. Who held it like an old grampa looking at a meme. "What do i do now?" he squinted his eyes at the device in his hand. "Just hold it" Angels voice became frustrated as he readjusted the phone in Als hand.

You had picked up the call a minute ago now, on your way back to the hotel. Being greeted to the two boys bickering. "Helloooo?" you sung out, attempting to get their attention.

"Oh. Hello my dear!" Alastor noticed to and bared his teeth in an awkward smile. "I just wanted to see how my love was doing, is all"

"How sweet. I will be back soon." You had many questions to ask when you were back with the comfort of your person.

"Do hurry"

#fanfiction #x reader #request #reqs open #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin angel dust #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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chlorinecake · 9 months

Text

PART 1: GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine

ＢｌｏｏｄＯｎＩｃｅ | 얼음에 피 - a park sunghoon ff

⚡︎ cw: mentions of suicide, violence, bullying, character deaths, swearing, underage drinking, unprotected sex, bad ending lol, ft. ive’s WONYOUNG and le sserafim’s KAZUHA

⚡︎ summary: sunghoon seeks revenge against the girls that bullied his little sister in high school, leading up to her tragic suicide

⚡︎ wc: 8.3k ~ read part 2 here!!

three years ago

For Sunghoon Park, death was hardly a foreign concept. He committed his first murder around the age of eighteen, the victim being a fellow athlete from his ice skating team, Cha Jun-Hwan. The dynamic pair maintained a solid friendship since the day they met, up until Sunghoon’s sixteen-year-old half-sister, Wonyoung, blossomed into a beautiful young lady. She stopped wearing glasses and got her braces removed, but most importantly, she was confident in her own skin. “You’re more beautiful than any princess I’ve ever seen, Wonyo. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise,” Sunghoon would encourage her every day in front of her vanity mirror. “Thank you, Sunghoon-ah! You always know how to cheer me up” she’d smile, patting his head as she left for school.

Eventually, Wonyoung started dating Jun-Hwan behind Sunghoon’s back. Their secret relationship went on for about 3 months before Sunghoon caught them during a half-naked-make-out session in Wonyoung’s bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed as if frozen, wearing black gym shorts and a pink bralette. Jun-Hwan was topless as well, with Wonyoung’s love bites decorating his bare chest. A mix of rage and disgust burned being Sunghoon's eyes. Grabbing a large pillow to cover her exposed figure, Jun-Hwan rambled on, “Sunghoon, I can explain! We meant to tell you sooner, but-“

“Get the fuck out of my house before I kill you,” Sunghoon threatened sharply, before an embarrassed Jun-Hwan ran out the door, leaving the Park siblings to figure things out.

Some time passed, and rumors about Wonyoung ran rampant throughout her high school, most of which being initiated by Jun-Hwan himself. An immeasurable pity birthed within Sunghoon whenever he’d hear the muffled sobs coming from his sister’s bedroom at night as she struggled to get any sleep. He wanted Jun-Hwan to pay for the pain he’d brought upon her.

The plan was simple, really.

Sunghoon made it look like a camping trip gone wrong, killing off four of his teammates including Jun-Hwan in the woods. He made it look like a vicious bear attack, which surprisingly fooled the police, leaving him scot-free.

Sunghoon went on to quit his dreams of becoming an Olympic champion, pursuing the academic route instead.

Though, Wonyoung’s torment was far from over.

A group of mean girls called her names like “piranha pussy” and “semen demon” after Jun-Hwan’s death, claiming that she supernaturally killed him during intimacy. Suffering from constant scrutiny at school and grieving the loss of her first boyfriend, despite all that he'd said about her, Wonyoung was driven to commit the unspeakable, and took her own life. Her body was buried soon after, with posts like “Gone too soon” and “fly high, princess 🕊️🎀” pinned on everyone’s socials, including the mean girls.

After his sister's death, Sunghoon was never the same. His innate will to kill only grew stronger as the years went by. He made a promise to Wonyoung on her funeral, saying that he would someday avenge her no matter how long it'd take him.

➠ three years later, wednesday

“Sunghoon is hosting a party at his place this Friday night. Wanna come?” Your friend Kazuha asked you from her end of the phone. She developed a habit of face timing you whenever she was in the mood for a movie. You were busy scrolling through Netflix catalogs from the comfort of your couch, searching for a descent film.

“Sunghoon Park?” You inquired at the familiar name.

“The sad rich kid whose sister committed suicide after her boyfriend died? Yes, that guy,” she said, struggling to open a jar of pickles.

“Ugh, I could totally use your feminine power muscles right now," she cried, her face contorting as she fought with all her might to release the tight lid.

“That sounds kinda gay, Kaz.”

“Only for you, ____,” she winked playfully before searching her kitchen drawers for a butter knife.

“I mean, are you sure he’s okay with us coming considering how we treated his little sister?” You stopped your scrolling, putting the tv remote down on the coffee table.

“It’s not our fault she couldn’t handle a few jokes.” Kazuha retrieved the lost butter knife from the dishwasher, walking back to the counter,

“Doesn't it make you feel guilty sometimes?”

“C’mon, ____, that was ages ago! And besides, we were kids, we didn't know any better,” she lied, neglecting the fact that you were both well informed of the life-threatening dangers that came with bullying. Kazuha was just having a hard time admitting it.

You were quiet for a moment. How could she be so insensitive?

“Whatever," you mumbled, reaching for the remote again, swiping through the horror movie section. "What’s the hype around this party for, anyways?”

“It’s a costume party, silly!”

Although you were on movie-hunting duty, this conversation was starting to make you sleepy.

“Girl? Are you yawning?”

“Give me a break, Kaz! It's past my bedtime, now pay attention to your pickles,” you joked, rubbing the urge to sleep from your eyes with your free hand.

“It’s the last week of summer break. Don’t let productivity get in the way of your fun before school starts again,” Kazuha protested in both her defense and your favor.

You meditated on her words for a moment before answering.

“Ugh, fine! Only if you promise to join me at the mall for some early morning costume shopping,” you negotiated, pointing a finger at her through your phone.

“Yay!” She cheered, bouncing around her kitchen in a fit of joy, accidentally knocking the glass jar of pickles unto the floor.

“Dammit,” she swore under her breath, running out of frame to likely grab a mop or broom.

Ring. Ring.

You glanced from the tv, taking a quick peek at your phone: Unknown Caller ID.

Hanging up, you proceeded to scroll through Netflix.

Ring. Ring.

The same number was calling you again.

Kazuha was now back in frame, both her broom and mop keeping her hands occupied.

“You can call me back after you check that, if you want.”

“No worries, it’s just some random unknown number that can’t find a hobby.”

“Oooo, spooky,” she said in a teasing voice.

You hung up the incoming call, only for it to call you back once again. Now you were curious.

“Uhm, I’m gonna call you back, Kaz,” you said before hanging up.

“Kk!”

You answered the unknown caller, holding the phone up to your ear.

“Hello?” You asked.

“I’ve been dying for you to answer.”

“Yeah? And how’re you feeling now?”

“Honestly, I’ve been better. What’re you up to?”

“Looking for a good movie to fall asleep to.”

“Really? What genre?”

“Dunno. Probably something scary.”

“Do you like scary movies?”

Yikes. These prank callers really needed to step up their scare game. You decided to play along.

“Yeah, I guess I do.” It took everything in you not to cackle at how ridiculous you sounded. This mystery man was truly a recycled character.

“Hmm, you never told me your name, by the way.”

“Hmm, and I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, it’s because you have a boyfriend, isn’t it?”

“Nooo. Now tell me, why do you want to know my name? Huh?”

“So I can know who I’m looking at.”

You rolled your eyes at his cliche script.

“Right, so anyways, I’m gonna hang up now and you can just…uh, I don’t know, touch yourself til you’re content again.”

“Don’t hang up on m-“

What a loser, you thought to yourself, calling Kazuha back.

“Hi! What did they want?”

“It was just some nerd trying to prank call me.”

“No way. Did he sound hot?”

“Kaz, do you wanna watch this stupid movie or not?”

“Fine, fine, I’ve got my pickles and everything. Now press play!”

➠ thursday

Another easy day spent between you and Kazuha went by. After raiding the strip mall’s clothing shops (and food courts) in search of the sexiest party costumes available, you two agreed on an “Angel x Devil” duo theme. Kazuha chose the devil costume, handing you the sparkly white halo from the angel set. “It’s giving Victoria’s Secret,” Kazuha said, checking herself out in the changing room mirror before striking an awkward pose. You could tell she was trying to lighten the mood, but you couldn't get over how uncomfortable the revealing outfit made you feel. You and Kaz used to slut shame girls who dressed like this, only to turn around and do the same thing yourself. This whole experience felt hypocritical. “I look like an attention-whore,” you said to the mirror, a pitiful expression waving over your features. Kazuha walked over to you, giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Cheer up, ____. You’re more beautiful than any attention-whore I’ve ever seen, and don't you ever let someone tell you otherwise,” she smiled, kissing you on the head.

“Yay, how flattering.”

“No, I’m serious. We’re gonna be sophomores next semester. How long is it gonna take before we explore our scandalous side? Unless you plan on dying a virgin.”

Oh, the horror.

You considered her words for a moment, giving yourself one more look in the mirror.

“I guess this corset makes my boobs look pretty nice…”

“That’s the spirit! Now c’mon my child. Follow sugar mommy Zuha to the register,” she cheered in a high pitched voice, collecting the clothing tags and paying for your costumes.

➠ friday

12:23pm

You walked into the craft store and were greeted by the smell of sawdust and lumber. Grabbing a hand basket, you strolled around the aisles in search for a few repair materials. Last week, Kazuha accidentally broke the shelf you had installed in your wall with her heavy stretching equipment. Needless to say, you were left to pick up the pieces. To your misfortune, the wood glue was placed on an abnormally high rack. Raising up on tippy toes, you extended your arm, barely grazing the item with your fingertips. That’s when a tall figure reached over your frame, obtaining the wood glue with ease. “Thought you might want a little help with that,” the deep voice chimed, placing the wood glue in your basket.

You looked up to meet his face, jolting as if you’d seen a ghost. The helpful stranger proved to be none other than Sunghoon Park, the older brother of the girl you bullied to suicide back in high school. The last time you saw Sunghoon was at his sister’s funeral, which was almost three years ago. “Are you okay,” he asked, noticing the way your features fell at the sight of him. You tried to recollect your thoughts, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Y- yeah, I’m okay. Thanks,” you said nodding, trying to reassure the both of you.

He eyed you curiously, finding your bashfulness to be rather endearing.

“Do I,” he began, pointing at himself and back to you, “-have we met before?”

“No, I uh- Well, kind of. I- I knew your sister,” you admitted, trying to ignore your own stuttering.

“Oh, I remember. You’re ____, right? Yeah. Wonyo told me all about you and your friends. Who were they again?”

“Kazuha and Maddison.”

“Hmm, and where are they now,” he asked, following along as you subconsciously picked up a pack of brad nails.

“Well, Kaz is actually coming to your party tonight. Maddie moved away a while ago after her brother passed in the camping accident.”

All he did was smile in response. You found that odd, but didn’t give it much thought as he kept talking.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about those years recently.”

You nodded, hoping he would continue.

“I tried telling her to ignore the rumors. To keep smiling and focusing on things that made her happy. I guess it just came to a point where she couldn’t pretend anymore.”

Something in you wanted to say sorry, but you came to realize a long time ago that apologies lacked much worth anyway, benefiting the offender more than the offended. You wondered if he even knew how you used to treat her.

You made your way to the check out line, placing your basket on the conveyor belt. The cashier scanned your items, and you handed her your debit card.

“I’ve been thinking about her, too. Wonyoung was such a bright soul, and put her all in everything she did. She used to talk about you all the time, sharing stories of how amazing you were on the ice. She was so proud of you.”

“Yeah,” his voice cracked.

“Would you like your receipt,” the employee asked cheerfully.

“No, that’s okay. Have a good day,” you wished, taking your shopping bag in one hand and Sunghoon’s wrist in the other.

He was docile as you guided him outside of the craft store, pulling him to face you. Breaking the tension, you gave him a hug, leaning into his chest.

He restrained his sniffles rather well before pulling away as if he wasn’t just on the verge of crying.

“So, are you in school,” he asked, started up a new conversation.

“Yeah, I’m a sophomore. We actually go to the same university.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you around before. I’m a junior. What’s your major?”

“English.”

“Ahh, that makes sense. I’m majoring in Psychology, so we won’t have many classes together.”

You couldn’t believe that he was actually this comfortable talking with you. It was a relief knowing that he didn’t hold his sister’s passing against you.

“Well, enough with the sad stuff, I’ve got some last minute errands to run for the party, so I’ll see you tonight, alright? Do you need a ride?”

“Yeah, actually. Thanks for offering.”

Why was he being so nice?

“Yeah, no problem! I’ll pick u up around 8, okay? It was nice meeeting you again!”

“Yeah, you too!”

2:41pm

9:03pm

It was a Friday night and the mood was right, as some would say. You and Kazuha were dressed to impress in your flirty costumes, earning yourself glares from every corner of the room. You arrived a little later then anticipated, but were still thankful for Sunghoon’s kind gesture of driving you two all the way here. However, he’d been missing in action for the past hour, and you were really hoping that you would have the chance to talk with him again. In the meantime, you sat on one of his fancy couches, enjoying the lively rhythms of the music. Colorful flashing lights kissed the tall ceiling, with an array of drinks and snacks displayed at a bar. You knew Sunghoon was rich, but he had really outdone himself.

Walking over to the bar, you grabbed one of the plastic red cups and filled it with whatever flavored liquid enticed you from the large punch bowl, having a seat at one of the metal bar stools. You gave the drink a whiff before taking a sip.

Someone had definitely spiked the juice.

Although you currently had no one around to chat with, you tried to find some enjoyment in the crowded solitude, watching fellow party goers dance their hearts out before joining them yourself.

9:13pm

Kazuha invited herself to take a tour around Sunghoon’s fancy abode, that honestly felt more like a mansion than a home. She wasn’t sure if it was the faint traces of alcohol in her system, but she was certainly in the mood for a good time. Walking through his home’s back door, she spotted him sitting near his pool, staring at the wind-produced waves. She walked towards him, sitting in the idle seat beside him.

“Hi,” he started, barely glancing at her before looking back at the water, reflecting the moon’s beautiful glow.

“Hi. You didn’t dress up for your own party,” she chuckled, swirling the red liquid in her cup.

“I am dressed up. As myself, of course.”

“So, ‘Sunghoon Park’ is a part of your costume then, yeah?”

“Maybe. Would you like to get to know the real me?”

“Maybe,” she said in between a long sip of the fruity drink she held in her hand.

“If you could be anything at all, what would you be?”

Sunghoon rested his elbows on his thighs in a thinking position.

“A ghost.”

“You’d make one goon of a ghost,” she humored herself until she noticed that he wasn’t amused by her antics.

“Ghosts are liberal beings, free from the taxing cares of this blood and bone world.”

‘Who wouldn’t want that,’ Sunghoon thought to himself.

“Uhuh. So, how do you think your dead little sister is enjoying her boring life as a graveyard ghoul?” He froze at her question, gripping his fists around nothing, trying to get a hold of his emotions.

Kazuha was being a bitch on purpose. It was an innate attitude of hers that she had yet to break. Still and all, she couldn’t help but wonder what Wonyoung would be like if she was still here.

‘If they’re better than me, they’re better gone,’ Kazuha often reminded herself, more so as an affirmation, rather than out of belief.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Sunghoon retorted, searching his blazer pocket for his silver flask, taking a thick gulp from its spout. Kazuha watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed with each swallow, marveling at the shadow of facial hair growing on his chin.

Cute.

His jaw clenched at the strong drink, the condensation from the silver canister leaving a print from his warm fingertips.

“Want some,” he asked, giving her a nonchalant look.

“Sure,” she said, opening her mouth for him to pour a stream of the amber liquid down her throat.

“You have a pretty tongue,” he said, using a thumb to toy with her lower lip.

Kazuha felt dizzy under Sunghoon’s dark gaze, his piercing eyes telling of all the bad things he planned to do to her.

He laid a hand on her exposed thigh, gripping at the plush skin. “Look at you, squirming in your seat for me and I’ve barely even touched you,” he whispered against her lips, tasting the rum that flavored her mouth with a kitten lick. Her eyes fluttered at the action. How was he so comfortable doing this in front of all these people?

“Is this why you hated Wonyo for so long? Because she could pull hot guys like me effortlessly? I never understood why it was so hard for you, anyway, considering that you go both ways,” he slithered.

She grabbed his wrist, snatching his grasp from her face.

“What? I thought we were having a little fun,” he grinned like a sly fox, displaying his pearly fangs.

“No, Goon! You were having fun!” She got up from the poolside, adjusting her clothes and wiping her mouth. “I don’t wanna be here anymore, tell ____ I’ll see her tomorrow.”

He set his eyes back on the water, taking another sip from the flask.

She waved her arms above her head frantically, trying to get his attention again. “Aren’t you gonna take me home?”

“Forget it, Kaz. You can walk home for all I care.”

She scoffed to herself. “You’re joking.”

“And you’re a classless bitch who bullies girls who’re better than you,” he spat, tucking his flask away in his jacket pocket before getting up to walk in the opposite direction of her.

“Sunghoon! I can’t walk home by myself in the middle of the night! I’ll get chopped up by some weirdo or something!”

“I’m afraid that’s not my problem,” he said, not turning meeting her face. “And by the way, I want you outta here in the next two minutes or else I’m calling the police!”

Kazuha gave Sunghoon the bird, walking the walk of shame as she left his party alone, dressed as the slutty devil he had made her feel like.

9:40pm

Kazuha took short strides as she walked along the concrete sidewalk, trying to get back home before her legs gave out. On the way, she found a random stick lying on a neighborhood lawn. She decided to keep it with her as a weapon, just in case she needed to defend herself.

Ring. Ring.

She answered her phone without looking.

“Kazzieeee.”

“Hello? Who’s this?”

“Oh, we know each other very well.”

A lightbulb went off in Kazuha’s head.

“You’re the perv that prank called my friend a few nights ago, right?” She said, subconsciously walking faster, feeling paranoid for some reason, though, she tried to mask it with humor.

“Where are you going?” The voice on the other end asked.

“Home,” she answered for reasons she didn’t understand.

“I can wait for you at the door if you like.”

“I think I’d like it a little bit more if you found some friends instead.”

“Then why are you walking away from me, you rude devil?”

She turned around to check her surroundings, waving the stick weapon at the sight of a stop sign, dim street lights, and suburban houses. She cackled at herself.

“Oh man, you really had me there for a second,” she sighed, turning back around.

“So, are you gonna invite me in or do I have to force my way?”

“Ugh, what’re you talking about now?”

“I'm talking about how much fun it’s gonna be to rip your insides out!"

Kazuha’s eyes bucked in fear. She never expected the caller to threaten her.

“C- call me again, a- and I’ll call the police,” Kazuha warned in a trembling voice.

It’s hard to sound brave when you’re scared for your life.

The unknown caller let out a mocking chuckle, thoroughly amused by her responses.

She lifted the phone to her face.

“HANG UP AND YOU’LL DIE-“

The dial tone filled the stale night air.

Kazuha fished through her mini bag, looking for her AirPod case. She opened the Spotify app on her phone, clicking on her “Chyll Vybe” playlist. Swallowing her anxiety, she hoped that some upbeat music would take her mind off her fear. Something in her told her to warn you about Sunghoon, and she listened, sending you a quick text before power walking down the side walk. She lip-synced to the melody, trying to lift her spirits.

9:49pm

iMessage from ”Kazzie 🦢🩰” — I still don’t trust Sun-Goon. Pls don’t go anywhere near/with him 🙏

Reply: Where r u?

read

9:50pm

Kazuha felt like someone was watching her. That’s when she looked to her side and saw a tall clothed figure with a scanty white mask walking beside her. She flinched, “Oh my God, you scared the hell out of me!”

The person stayed silent.

“I don’t remember seeing you at Sunghoon’s costume part-“ Kazuha lurched forward over nothing, the clothed figure tearing through her flesh with a sharp blade, scraping the bone beneath.

Kazuha groaned at the feeling, gripping the offender’s arm at the profound pain.

The figure pushed her wounded body on the ground, taking the knife out of her abdomen before stabbing her again and again, until her ragged breaths couldn’t keep up with the continuous blood flow. Kazuha whimpered and winced, even after the stabbing had stopped, her abused innards glistening under the soft moonlight. She watched as the psychopath removed her AirPods from her ears before walking away, leaving her dying body on the pavement.

He put her headphones in his own ears before comically mimicking the way Kazuha was ‘power-walking’ earlier. Rihanna’s cover of Same Ol’ Mistakes blared from the white pods, chanting the lyric:

“But you've got your demons and she's got her regrets.”

“What a lovely song to die to,” the killer chimed, skipping off into the distance.

10:11pm

Buzz. Buzz.

Your phone vibrated in your white hand purse. Pulling out your phone, the bright screen revealed a text from an unknown number.

What a wonderful surprise.

You jotted in your password before finally checking the message.

You spun in your seat, searching the crowd behind you. The dancing party lights hindered your vision. You got up from your seat, stepping closer to get a better look. Goosebumps dawned on the surface of your skin at the sight of the hooded figure in a distorted caricature mask, gripping a knife in their right hand. It was a horrific look to say the least.

“Screw you.” You typed angrily on your phone to the unknown number, blocking the contact and putting your phone back away. You just realized how long it’s been since you saw Kaz, so you went out to go and find her.

“You shouldn’t have done that, ____,” you heard a dark voice say from behind you. You ignored it, thinking it was just your paranoia playing tricks on you.

10:16pm

“Why did you leave my side, Kaz? Kazuha?!” You called out in search for your friend. You didn’t entirely believe what the unknown caller said, but you still wanted to make sure she was okay. You made your way upstairs, opening door after door to no avail. Your friend was no where to be found. “Kazuha?! Seriously, if you don’t come out right now, I’m eating the rest of your dried mangoes-”

Crash.

You bumped into a formally dressed party goer, only to realize that it was Sunghoon.

“Oh my gosh, are you okay,” you worried, fixing the damp hairs that framed his pretty face.

“Oh- your hairs wet.”

“Yeah, I was just at the pool.”

“Must’ve been near the hot tub, you look flushed.”

He offered his hand to lift you up.

“Sorry, but have you seen Kazuha anywhere? She texted me something, and now I can’t find her.”

“Oh, she actually left about half an hour ago,” he admitted, still fixing his clothes from the fall.

“Why? Was she okay?”

“Yes, ____, she was perfectly fine. She probably just felt a little awkward and decided to go home.”

You hummed in response. Unlike Kazuha, you trusted Sunghoon for whatever that reason was, so you didn’t spend anymore time talking about your MIA bestie.

“What’re you doing?”

“Texting her good night. Even though she probably won’t see it til the morning,” you chuckle to yourself, eliciting a smile from Sunghoon himself. You have yet to learn his reasons for smiling at some of the things you say, but you had a feeling there was nothing to worry about.

“Who’s that,” he asked pointing to your conversation with the unknown number.

“Just some rando trying to scare me,” you replied, deleting the conversation before putting your phone back in your purse.

“Hmm, I thought you liked scary,” he replied.

You and Sunghoon started to trail back downstairs, ignoring the way his knuckles occasionally brushed against the back of your hand.

“Hey, uh, I know we don’t know each other very well, but I was hoping we could go somewhere a little more private?”

You considered his offer, thinking about how Kazuha abandoned ship when she was the one who hauled you to this silly party to begin with. The night was still young, and you trusted Sunghoon. You wanted to leave with him.

“Yeah, okay. I’m gonna hit up the ladies room first though, and I’ll meet you out front.”

“Wait, Sunghoon,” you called out. “You haven’t had anything to drink tonight, right?”

“Have you?,” was all he asked before flashing a cheeky smirk, displaying his dimples.

“I’ll be waiting for you in my car, alright” he said, giving you a brief hug before heading to the door.

11:24pm

You weren’t entirely sure where Sunghoon was taking you, but you didn’t really care either.

You were too lost in the way he maneuvered the steering wheel with one hand, captivated by the prominent veins that traced his delicately long fingers.

After some time, Sunghoon pulled the shiny black vehicle into the driveway of a log cabin, hidden within the depths of the forest. The bright car headlights glazed the surface of a rectangular sign hanging above the front door, revealing the words "Park Lodge" carved into the wooden slab.

Sunghoon put the car in park, ceasing the calming sound of the air conditioner. His eyes were still trained on the view behind the windshield.

“So," you began, breaking the silence. "How many girls have you taken here before,” you teased, giving him a curious look.

“None, actually, other than my little sister.”

Peering out the car window, you took in all the trees and wildlife that made up your surroundings. It finally hit you that you were in the middle of nowhere with a guy you had known for less than 24 hours. Oh, if Kazuha could see you now.

“Do you own this place?”

“Yup. My grandfather had it built from the ground up when he was around my age. Now, it belongs to me,” he smiled, trying to mask his pride.

You both exited the vehicle, Sunghoon locking the doors behind you. The sounds of crickets and restless owls greeted your ears. He had shared so much of his belongings with you so far that it almost made you feel guilty.

“I hope I’m not giving off the impression that I’m using you,” you mumbled shyly under your breath, walking closely beside him.

“____, you’re exactly what I need in my life right now. If anything, I’m the one using you.”

Something about his comment made you feel uneasy, but you tried to brush it off. He unlocked the front door, letting you step in before him. Upon entering, the space was dimly lit, with wooden accents trimming each corner. An antique chandelier was the source of the faint light, drawing your attention to the artistic etchings that covered the ceiling. This place was truly a gem.

“You looked really beautiful tonight, by the way,” Sunghoon admitted, interrupting your gawking.

“Shut up,” you bashfully rejected his compliment, feeling a sudden heat rush to your face.

“What? I’m serious.”

“And I’m way too tipsy to think rationally right now.”

“Yeah? And what is it that you’re thinking, then? Honestly?”

You waited before answering him.

“That if you knew just half of what I’ve done in the past, you probably wouldn’t even be talking to me right now.”

He took your hand in his, turning you to face him.

“So stop talking.”

“What?”

“Follow me,” he said, beelining you to another room.

A bedroom.

He flicked one of the light switches before sitting you beside him on the bed. He held intense eye contact with you before speaking.

“I’m not oblivious, ____. You may be a nice girl, but I can tell you have a naughty side, too.”

The thought of you and Kazuha’s shopping adventure reminisced in the back of your mind. Promiscuity came so naturally for her, but for you, it wasn't as easy.

“Trust me, there isn’t a naughty nerve in my body.”

“Not yet, maybe. It just needs to be stimulated, first.”

The word ‘stimulated’ hung in the air for a moment.

“Sunghoon, what are you getting at here-“

You gasped as he stopped you mid sentence, caging you beneath his large frame on the bed.

“Maybe we could start with some on top of the clothes stuff, yeah?”

“Sunghoon, this is a little fast-“

“I really need this from you tonight, okay? Just, please. Let me explore you.”

The desperate look in his eyes softened your heart, sending a sensation of numbness through your limbs. It was hard to process that all of this was actually happening right now. A little voice in your head urged you to let go of the nerves and simply let him. As lust and desire intoxicated your senses, you accepted the fact that you were more than fine with this. More than ready for wherever this night with Sunghoon would take you.

“Okay,” you answered.

“Yeah," he asked in excited disbelief.

“Yes,” you reassured him, nodding.

“Explore me.”

That was the green light Sunghoon had been waiting for, pressing a soft kiss to your lips that quickly escalated into a heated tongue fight. He gently grazed his teeth against your neck, nibbling at the sensitive spot beneath your ear. He snaked a hand between your legs, only for his touch to be hindered by the corseted bodysuit of your angel costume. “May I,” he whispered against your skin, sending a shiver down you spine as his fingers drew circles atop the fabric. You could only nod in response, too pleasure drunk to come up with any words. Tossing the outfit across the room, Sunghoon dipped his fingers into the growing wetness at your core.

“Much better,” he grinned, sliding his fingers up and down past your folds. You reached out to tug at his button up shirt, aching to feel his bare skin against yours. He caught on to your desires pretty quickly, stripping himself before you. You stared in awe at his toned body, sinful thoughts of him flooding your brain. He looked down at your vulnerable figure, smirking to himself.

“Both our clothes are off. You can stop teasing me now,” you said, causing him to chuckle.

“What’re you suggesting I do to you, then,” he questioned, inching closer before meeting you on the bed again.

You felt yourself squeeze around nothing.

“I want you. All of you.”

That’s all it took and Sunghoon was already diving back into your lips, lewd sounds bouncing off the bedroom’s walls. You busied yourself with unzipping his pants, palming the bulge that hid behind his boxers.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath, pulling his bottoms down the rest of the way, granting you access to stroke his shaft a few times before aligning his tip with your entrance. He pushed himself past your tightness, not giving you any time to adjust to his size before rutting his hips against you, groaning at the intense pleasure you gave him.

➠ saturday

5:04am

Last nights sleep was still fresh on your face, adding a weight to your eyelids that you didn’t care to fight just yet. You were laying flat on your back once you felt a different weight sit atop your hips in a still straddle. Eyes still closed, you knew the pressure came from Sunghoon once the scent of his rosy cologne hit your nostrils. You shut your sleepy eyes tighter as he grazed something sharp across the length of your neck before leaning down to kiss the spot softly, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. He traced the sharp object across the stature of your collarbone and the valley between your chest, tracing another straight line down your stomach to your navel.

Poke.

The sharpness barely pierced you before your eyes shot open at the sting. A shirtless Sunghoon sat on your lap with a large knife in his right hand, the fresh blood from your stomach coating it’s tip. You weren’t naked, but you were only wearing his oversized white poplin shirt from the night before, now stained with a few drops of ruby red. Looking around, you noticed countless stab impressions on the mattress.

Sunghoon must’ve violently stabbed a circle around your head while you slept, loose cotton and feathers covering the messy bedspread.

He looked up from his ministrations and saw that you were awake. You wanted to scream for your life, even though you knew no one would hear you.

“SUNGHOON-,” you tried, but he covered your mouth with his free hand, a sent of iron lingering in your nose.

“Don’t you think it’s a little early to be screaming? The trees might think I’m abusing you in here!”

You rustled under his palm before biting his hand, eliciting a groan from his throat.

“What the fuck is this, huh,” you asked, trying to get up from under him. He wrestled with your arms, pining your wrists to the bed.

“I commend your bravery, but try some shit like that again and I’ll finish cutting you open.”

His eyes were dark, void of any moral conscience. He brought the knife up to your neck, toying with the ripples that made up your anxious throat. “You deserve this for what you did to her, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with you first.” He smirked at whatever perverse thoughts ran through his mind. Your breathing became ragged, as the urge to cry grew in your chest.

“Aww, we’ve got a crier,” Sunghoon teased, pouting back at you.

“K-Kaz, sh-she, she tried to warn me.”

“A- an- and you probably sh- should’ve listened,” he replied, mocking the way you stuttered. “I still would’ve caught your ass later, anyways.”

“You fucking killed her!”

“Oh, please. That bitch had the mouth of a viper, someone was gonna put her in her place eventually.”

“You’re insane!”

“I’m also self aware.”

The tears were becoming too much for your eyes to hold back, as thick streams poured from your eyelids, dampening your supple cheeks.

“You took my virginity because of your dead sister?” You yelled again in utter disgust.

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t fucking enjoy it.”

You spat in his eye.

“You missed my mouth, princess,” he said in a low voice before wiping the spit off of his face, smearing it against your chest.

“You’re into this, huh? Look how hard your nipples have gotten.”

He put his sweaty forehead against yours, planting a tender kiss to your lips that for some reason, you didn’t reject.

“You know, I did enjoy exploring you last night.”

He kissed you again, pushing his hot tongue past your lips, dancing with yours.

“I enjoyed our taste”

He kissed your neck, gripping your throat until your vision went blurry.

“I enjoyed your scent.”

He grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled it like horse reins, causing a choked moan to erupt from you mouth.

“I enjoyed the pretty sounds you made for me.”

He glided his digits between your wet folds, dipping his delicate fingers into your entrance.

“Sunghoon!”

“I enjoyed the way you cried out my name as you clenched around my fingers,” he slithered seductively.

“Fuck, get off of me!”

He was in the middle of admiring your tits when he looked up to meet your rage-ridden eyes, his own face a flushed hue from the heat engulfing your sweaty bodies. He sighed in disappointment.

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Ugh,” you squirmed, fighting your hardest to escape his grasp.

“How long do you think your weak little body can take my insatiable urges to torture you before it finally gives out? Huh? Making you suffer will bring all the more fulfillment to my life.”

“God, Sunghoon, I don’t care anymore! Kill me! We’ll burn in hell together, I guess!”

“Jeez, would you quit pretending like you want to die? You’re taking all the fun out of it,” he said, rolling his eyes.

The sounds of your choked sobs filled the room’s miserable air.

“This doesn’t make any sense,” you sniffled beneath him.

“Here,” he offered, throwing the knife across the room, causing you to jump at nothing, “allow me to clear it up for you. When I care about someone, I don’t let anyone fucking touch them. Yet, you and your friends managed to hurt her without even doing so.”

“We didn’t know she would take it that far, Sunghoon,” you pleaded in between sobs.

“I didn’t know that my sister would be taken away from me by a bunch of mindless teenage sluts with big and dirty dick sucking mouths! Life’s unfair!”

“Fuck you,” you retorted, feeling lightheaded from all of your screaming and crying. He snickered to himself, presumably finding amusement in how pathetic you sounded. Combing his hair back with a clawed hand, he peered down, looking into your eyes.

“I’ve had just about enough of your talking, princess,” he said, reaching for a towel to shove in your mouth.

Only muffled screams filled the room from there.

He would never admit that it was his own vanity keeping you alive. He’d call it mercy, when deep down, it was his twisted craving for your touch that stopped him from going all the way during torture sessions. Your life had been reduced to its lowest, never to see the mere light of day again. He kept you in an underground basement, lined with bricks and mortar to ensure that you’d never escape his sadistic dictation. Everyday behind those walls felt like an eternity of ‘toy versus toddler tantrum’s.’ If only you knew that a simple mistake you made in high school would be the very wrecking ball to sabotage your entire life.

❅ Thank you for reading @chlorinecake ‘s “Blood On Ice.” Make sure to check out more fun reads on my enhypen bookshelf!

❅ Special thanks to @ashgonedash for requesting this creative piece and @fanficfactoryfoxxx for curing my writers block!!! 🎂

✎ ᴀ/ɴ: in no way, shape, or form does this fanfic intend to romanticize unhealthy relationships or abusive behaviors. i simply write for entertainment and creative purposes. thus, reader discretion is always advised.

!¡update: BLOOD ON ICE part TWO coming SOON, introducing more direct yandere themes and plot exploration!! stay tuned 🎧

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onlycosmere · 1 year

Text

OUTSIDE by Brandon Sanderson

Snow is falling. So I look up.

The world mystifies when you stare up through falling snow. Even standing still, you can soar. Even alone, you are surrounded. Even mundane, you find magic. I’ve spent my life chasing the fantastical, yet everything I’ve ever imagined can be casually matched by someone tilting their head up. The soft. Settling. Aspiration.

Of snow on an otherwise ordinary day.

When I was eighteen, I moved from Nebraska to Utah. Here, snow is fleeting, embarrassed to be an obstruction. But in Nebraska, snow squats. It claims land, builds empires. You fight it all winter, carving pathways, reconquering your sidewalks. The cold digs inside, frosting your bones with a chill that lingers, even after you return to warmth.

I often think of those snowy days, now that I live in a desert. But each year my memories are a little less fresh. We build our lives with layer upon layers of years, like falling snow. And like the new snow, most experiences melt away. In interviews, I’ve been asked to recount my most frightening experience. I struggle to answer because it’s the lost memories that scare me—the unnerving knowledge that I’ve forgotten the majority of moments that made me who I am. Those dribbled away when I wasn’t looking and joined the spring runoff of life.

Fortunately, some experiences do remain. In one, I’m fourteen, and it’s a cold night in Nebraska. My best friend at the time was a boy we’ll call John. Though we went to different schools, he was one of the only other Mormon kids around, so our parents often had us play together. When you’re very young, it’s proximity—not shared interests—that makes friends. This often changes as you age. By fourteen, John had found his way to basketball, parties, and popularity. I had not.

On that day, after a youth activity, another friend suggested we leave to go have some fun. I don’t remember where. Strange, that I’ve lost what this was about, though the rest of the scene is etched into the glacial part of my brain. One of us was old enough to drive, so we headed out to their car.

Five seats. Six teens. They’d already counted.

Without a word to me, the others climbed in. John gave me one hesitant look, then settled into the front passenger seat and closed the door. They left me on the curb. The car vanished, taillights flaring in the night like lit cigarettes.

The memory settled in for the long winter. That night. Watching. Remembering John’s face, which was so strikingly conflicted. Half ashamed. Half resigned.

I was no stranger to being outside. It happens when you’re one of three Mormon kids in a large school. You’ll be at a birthday party, and the wine coolers will come out. Everyone stands there worrying you’ll judge them—while you just want them to stop staring. But you leave anyway, because you know they’ll enjoy themselves more if you and your unusual morals aren’t there to loom.

It should have been different that night though, watching John and the others drive away. They were in my church group—ostensibly, my tribe. They’d still left me outside.

This event shocked me in how dramatic it was, as I wasn’t generally bullied. I tended to be adept at social settings. People generally liked me. At the same time, there was something I’d begun to notice. Something distancing about me.

It happens still. It isn’t that people shun me or don’t want me around; indeed, they seem to appreciate me. When I join a group, I generally end up leading it in some way, and I never sense resentment to this fact. But I also have an air around me. Some writer friends call me the “adult in the room.” I tend to attack projects too aggressively, tend to be the one who steps in and gets things done—even when they don’t need to be done immediately, and when everyone else would rather relax.

This comes, in part, from a certain…oddity about me that started in my young teens, around the time that John drove off. As my friends grew hit puberty, they became more emotional. The opposite happened to me. Instead of experiencing the wild mood swings of adolescence, my emotions calcified. I started waking up each day feeling roughly the same as the day before. Without variation.

Around me, people felt passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy. They loved, and hated, and argued, and screamed, and kissed, and seemed to explode every day with a pressurized confetti of unsettling emotions.

While I was just me. Not euphoric, not miserable. Just…normal. All the time.

Often, it genuinely seems like I exist outside of human experience. It’s not sociopathy. I’m quite empathetic—in fact, empathy is one of the ways that I can feel stronger emotions. I’m not autistic. I don’t have a single hallmark of that notable brand of neurodivergence. It’s also not what is called alexithymia, which is a condition where someone doesn’t feel emotions (or can’t describe them).

I care about people, and I feel. I’m not empty or apathetic. My emotions are simply muted and hover in a narrow band. If human experience ranges between a morose one and an ecstatic ten, I’m almost always a seven. Every day. All day. My emotional “needle” tends to be very hard to budge—and when it does move, the change is not aggressive. When others would be livid or weeping, I feel a sense of discomfort and disquiet.

My emotions do go a little further than this on occasion, maybe once a year. It takes something incredible—such as being deeply betrayed by someone I trusted.

I’m not looking for sympathy; I don’t want to be fixed. I appreciate this aspect of my makeup—and it’s part of what makes me so consistent at writing. When everyone else is in crisis, I’ll just steam along. At the same time, when everyone else is elated by some good news…I’ll just steam along, unable to feel the heights of the joy they feel.

It makes people uncomfortable sometimes. Makes them think I’m judging them. While I’m absolutely not, I do try to be careful how I talk about my condition. Not as something to fear. Something, instead, I’m proud of—not because it makes me better than anyone else, but because it’s me. I like being me.

My neurodivergence came up in a recent interview I did. The interviewer latched onto the fact that I don’t feel pain like others do. (More accurately, some mild pains don’t cause in me the same response they do others.) I asked the interviewer not to mention it in his article, as I felt the tone to our discussion was wrong. I worry about my oddity changing the way people think of me, as I don’t want to be seen as an emotionless zombie. So I try to speak of it with nuance.

As the interviewer ignored my request, I thought I’d talk about it here. Profile myself for you—because this aspect of who I am has deep ties to another happening from my teenage years. In this, I want to answer a big question for you, the one everyone wonders about. The key to understanding Brandon Sanderson.

Why do I write?

Why do I write so much?

Why do I write so much fantasy?

Let me tell you about the first day, that beautiful day, when I found myself inside.

It was when I opened a fantasy novel. I was an isolated kid whose emotions were doing something bizarre. Even John leaving had left me feeling…disturbed more than angry. Alone, and outside. Then I opened a book where I found emotion.

In that story about dragons, and wonder, and people trying impossible things, I found myself. I felt a variety of powerful emotions through the characters—emotions that I remembered from when I’d been younger.

I hadn’t tried reading fiction in a long while, so I was blindsided by this perfect book. The experience transformed me, quick as a boy tilting his head back, looking up, and finding a new world.

When I read or write from the eyes of other people, I legitimately feel what they do. There’s magic to any kind of story, yes—but for me, it is transformative. I live those lives. For a brief time, I remember exactly what passion, and agony, and hatred, and ecstasy feel like. My emotions mold to the story, and I cry sometimes. I legitimately cry. I haven’t done that outside of a story in three decades.

Stories bring me inside.

My second published novel is called Mistborn. It’s about a world where ash falls like snow, and I can linger, looking up through it via a character’s eyes. Near the beginning of Mistborn, the teenage protagonist finds herself standing outside a room. It is full of light and laughter and warmth. But she knows, she knows she doesn’t belong inside that room.

She’s wrong.

Nearer the end of the book, I linger on as similar scene—only now, she’s sitting with the others. Light and laughter. Warmth. Mistborn was the first novel I wrote after getting the call offering me a book deal. Finally—after slaving over a dozen unpublished manuscripts—I knew I was going to be a professional writer. With that knowledge, I wrote Mistborn, the book about a girl who learns to come inside.

While writing Mistborn, I changed. Now that I’d made it inside of publishing—now that I’d joined those authors I’d loved for so long—why would I keep writing? I needed a new goal, and I discovered it that year.

So let me tell you why I write. It isn’t about worldbuilding; that’s a mistake everyone makes about me. Assuming I write because of worldbuilding is like assuming someone makes cars because they love cup holders. It’s also not because I’m Mormon, as some profiles bizarrely conclude. My faith and cultural heritage are both important to me, but if I were any other religion, that aspect of me would rightly be a footnote—not a headline.

I don’t write for plot twists, or dragons, or clever turns of phrase—though I enjoy all of these. I write because stories bring people inside. And I sincerely, genuinely believe that is what the world needs.

Lately, I’ve seen a resurgence of something that genuinely disquiets me: an attempt by some members of our community to hold others outside. Science fiction and fantasy is forever gatekeeping what constitutes good or worthy stories. Like my old friend John, who sought cooler friends, we renounce anything accessible—part of our perpetual (and largely fruitless) plea for legitimacy with the literary establishment.

Thing is, I can’t really get mad when someone does this, because I’ve done it myself in the past. The unfortunate truth is that we all probably have at times. The moment a group finds cohesion—discovering the warmth and peace of being inside—we decide there aren’t enough seats, so we start muscling and pushing. Readers who came in because of the latest popular teen novel? Outside. Fans of the film version of a story, instead of the book version? Outside. People who don’t look the same as the supposedly conventional fan? I suspect they know this struggle far better than I do.

To use a thematic metaphor, it’s like we’re dragons on our hoard of gold, jealously keeping watch, worrying that if anyone new enters, their presence will somehow dilute our enjoyment. The irony is that there is infinite space inside, and if we open the way, we’ll find many of these newcomers are the very treasure we’re seeking.

Fantasy, out of all genres, should embrace the different, even if it doesn’t match our specific taste. This is the genre where anything can happen—and should, therefore, be the most open genre. Only fantasy offers me the full range of emotion. The wonder of exploration. The magnificent highs of epic scope and the miserable lows of cataclysmic terror. In writing it, I can learn. Monomaniacal, I hunt experiences of people different from myself, then explore them in prose until I feel—in some small part—what they do.

This is why I write. To understand. To make people feel seen. I type away, hoping some lonely reader out there, left on a curb, will pick up one of my books. And in so doing learn that even if there is no place for them elsewhere, I will make one for them between these pages.

Those who interview me seem to have trouble understanding this fundamental part of who I am: that writing for me isn’t so much about performance as it is about exploration and elevation. I love prose both literary and commercial. And I think I write great prose. I’ve slaved over my style, practicing for decades, honing it for crisp clarity. My prose is usually intended to convey ideas, theme, and character, then get out of the way—because this is how I strive to bring everyone inside.

That said, I know my goal is impossible. Occasional strolls through the outside are part of being human, and I can’t eliminate that. And even I have to admit that there are lessons to be learned on those lonely paths. For example, contrast is the only way to appraise growth. Emotional alien I may be, but that very alienation has motivated me to understand. I value the connections I’ve made so much more for that struggle.

Moreover, I find that occasionally looking in through a window at everyone else gives a person a more complete perspective. Inside, things can get messy, and a streak of color finds it hard to comprehend the painting. I’m a better writer because of my time spent looking in. I don’t know that I could have written Mistborn if I hadn’t been left on that curb.

This isn’t to discount the pain of those who have been forced outside. Nor is it an advocacy for extended periods spent in the cold. I also don’t know if I could have written Mistborn if the wonderful people of the science fiction and fantasy community (including many of the friends I now work with) hadn’t latched on to me in college and—at times—forcibly pulled me inside to be with them. Beyond that, as I’ve grown older, I’ve found people like Emily, who love me in spite of (and partially because of) my quirks. Blessedly, because of this, my times outside have been increasingly brief.

My goal here is merely to point out (as I’ve had occasion to remember recently) that beautiful moments do accompany the isolation. You can only watch the snow fall when you’re outside. Only then can you look up and experience that mystifying world, where fragments of the sky drift past and lift you toward the heavens.

I’m forty-seven now, enjoying desert snowfalls in early April. The man I am is separated by distance and time from that boy who stood on the curb, and I’ve forgotten most of the steps that led between the two. I still don’t feel strong emotions outside of stories—but I did tell an interviewer lately that I sometimes cry when writing scenes in my books. They just aren’t the scenes that I thought he’d expect.

I don’t necessarily cry when characters die, or when they marry, or even when they find victory. I cry when it works. When it all comes together, and in a beautiful shimmering burst of humanity, I feel what it is to be that character. At those times, I remember what I learned twenty years ago writing Mistborn. That there’s a reason I do this. And even if I’ve lost more memories than I retain, each of them had a point, because they collectively brought me here.

So when you find yourself in the cold, know that sometimes, there’s a purpose to it. Trust me; I’ve been there. I might be there right now. Feeling the cold on my cheeks—but these days, no longer in my bones. Knowing that this will pass, and that it might be for my good. Most of all, looking up so I can appreciate it. The still. Solemn. Perspective.

Of one who stands outside.

#brandon sanderson #cosmere #cfsbf #root #branderson #wob #kind of #long post

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astral-mariner · 5 months

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vegeta/raditz headcanons

I'm actually surprised this pairing isn't more popular! I feel like once people really think about it, there's a lot of appeal, and there's plenty of places even in canon to imagine a relationship more complex than mere comrades. Feelings/headcanons dump on why:

Vegeta and Raditz are, to their knowledge, the last two young people left alive of their species. Sure, Vegeta might look down on Raditz for being low-class and considerably weaker than him, but as much as Vegeta might deny it, they share a history, a culture, and a bond (re: trauma bond).

They traveled and fought together before the destruction of their planet. Makes you wonder how Raditz ended up fighting alongside Vegeta. Lots of interesting speculations available here. (In the V/R story I'm writing, for example, Raditz reveals that he won a tournament to become Vegeta's fighting partner---even besting several elite saiyans of similar ages.) Makes you wonder, too, if Raditz fighting with Vegeta instead of another noble was something unheard of or scandalous.

And while we all know saiyans and humans aren't quite the same, I don't think it's a stretch to imagine they experience emotions like love/affection, loneliness, and grief in some similar ways. Even if these emotions are labeled "soft" or "weak" by their culture. (Here, too, I don't imagine their culture is a monolith: Vegeta, for example, probably faces more pressure to be "cold-hearted" or free of attachment than Raditz does because of his role and figurehead status.) So we end up with three saiyans, all of whom face varying degrees of pressure to move past the loss of their home and people, who must nevertheless find some kind of solace in each other in order to carry on. Meaning and purpose are definitely more elusive when Freeza controls every aspect of your life. When the people and culture that gave context to what matters to you are simply...gone. No more than memories.

The saiyans certainly put on a front of strength and invulnerability. Vegeta more than any of them. He doesn't care that his home is gone. He doesn't care that he'll never see his parents again. It makes sense that he has to tell himself that in a lot of ways: he's constantly facing new and unrelenting horrors under Freeza, both that he inflicts and that are inflicted upon him. If he stopped to grieve or acknowledge the wrongs being done, he wouldn't be able to pick himself back up and keep going. Forcing himself not to care is a defense mechanism.

But even then, there are moments of weakness. He punishes Raditz and Nappa when the immense burden of loss becomes too much for them to bear. When the purging assignments remind them all too much of how their own people were destroyed. And yet...the reason Vegeta punishes them so severely is because he sees those same vulnerabilities in himself. He needs to suppress and smother them. Violently.

Raditz doesn't blame Vegeta for the abuse he deals out as much as he could. As far as he (Raditz) understands, Vegeta has to be the way that he is in order to be as strong as possible and make at least something right after all that's happened. Nevertheless, he senses that, deep down, Vegeta struggles with loss and isolation as much as they all do. Even if no one ever acknowledges it outright.

Despite all the bullshit and unhealthy coping mechanisms, it's no great leap to imagine Vegeta and Raditz having their moments in spite of them. Vegeta might still regard Raditz as lesser; Raditz might still find Vegeta awful and insufferable. Yet Raditz admires Vegeta for his strength and determination; he hopes Vegeta really can live up to the legends to which they all cling in the absence of all else.

Meanwhile, Vegeta sees in Raditz someone who, in some ways, has more freedom than he does. Freedom to express the feelings he himself must stifle. Raditz will never be the Super Saiyan of legend. There will be no great consequence if he admits he misses his mother---just a little embarrassment and maybe some dishonor. And Vegeta longs for those things as much as he tells himself he hates them. To be able to let loose and lay down the burden of his rank.

Though as we know from canon, Vegeta seemed unmoved by Raditz's death. Even said he and Nappa were better off without him. This tells us a lot about their dynamic, but there's lots of room for speculation here too. Things must've always been fraught between them. Vegeta's pride and resentment got in the way. (And you can imagine that there was fear involved too: just as Vegeta had lost everything, he could lose Raditz and Nappa at any time; there would only be more pain if he let himself become attached.) Perhaps there were some truly awful fights between them. Perhaps they had a sort of love/hate relationship with each other. Two young people, the last of their kind---yet cultural, personal, and circumstantial obstacles drive them apart and prevent them from having any kind of loving, uncomplicated partnership.

Even then, though, there's still a certain inevitability to it. Vegeta can tell himself over and over he needs no one and wants nothing but power, but it doesn't make it true. He's still a young man like any other young man. He can't survive completely on his own as much as he wants to, and when Freeza has worn him down, and Raditz is there offering just the littlest touch of companionship, it shakes his defenses in a way more pain and trauma never could. (The same thing happens again with Bulma after he returns to Earth, but to an even greater degree.)

Anyway, this ship has a ton of potential! Angst, drama, trauma-bonding, love/hate, intensity---all things you can get out of it. And still quite plausible in canon. I'd love to see more art and fics exploring the possibilities! I'll definitely share some. I particularly enjoy the dark, angsty side of those possibilities myself... Stay tuned for more ramblings :)

#astral.txt #vegeta #raditz #headcanons #I will get everyone aboard this angsty ship with me

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sleephyuns · 11 months

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Nayeon and Momo had been married for a good two years by now, shockingly young for two women who were only 26 and 25 respectively.

This came after three years of dating and one year of engagement. Of ups and downs, lows and highs, and several breaks in between. Typical of dating at such ripe ages.

Even when they were engaged, they nearly called it off. The trouble only lasted a week, but Nayeon would say it was one of the scariest points in her life. Momo would too. The thought of losing someone who you had spent so much time with and dedicated your life to…

But in the end, everything led back to Nayeon and Momo. They could never be apart for too long.

Of course they still had disagreements. Nayeon working too many hours, the possibility of getting another pet. but for the most part they had sorted their shit out, and now had a marriage that made it near impossible to tell they had once been on such shaky ground.

But there lied the problem with Nayeon. The very problem that had been a source of many a disagreement and many falling outs.

You see, Nayeon’s sexual appetite was only satisfied by multiple people.

And funnily enough, Momo functioned the same way.

It took them a long time to realize that they weren’t inherently bad people for it. And even longer to realize they could come to an agreement and set boundaries for their activities.

That being said, you would think the big shocker, the issue that almost brought their marriage to a crashing end would be related to cheating. Yet neither of them have ever done such a thing.

It’s not to say they didn’t both have thoughts, or wandering eyes. But those thoughts remained deeply repressed for both of them. It lead to times where they thought they were bored of each other, or that they had fallen in love with other women, but no. That was never the case.

Nayeon loved Momo and Momo loved Nayeon. Romantically, they only had eyes for each other.

But sexually? Well…

To put a long story short, it took them a whole weeks worth of discussions to finally put that bit in order and another week of working it out for the engagement to be back on. And by the time they finally said their “i do’s” they had a new look on life and their relationship.

It should be noted that on their slightly-delayed honeymoon, a month later, they’d invited Jeongyeon. And of course they’d taken her to bed nearly every night of their stay.

Insatiable. That’s what you could call them.

So here they were, 2 years in and happy, with Nayeon cooking dinner for a change while she waited for Momo to come back from her little “excursion.”

She was glad Momo had taught her some tips and tricks for the kitchen. Her newfound love of cooking was something she never thought she’d unlock. But once she didn’t have to worry about setting the kitchen ablaze every five minutes, it became relaxing. She could zone out, destress, and just have a little time to herself.

She had just finished up skimming the top of the boiling pot of beef curry when the door knob started to jangle.

Kookeu scampered away from her feet, currently more interested in his other mother’s return than the delicious smell wafting through the kitchen.

“That smells so good…”

She heard Momo before she saw her,

and could only imagine the pleased look om her face. When she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she was proven right (with Kookeu nearly tripping her up in the process).

She licked her lips, and Nayeon couldn’t help but notice the little bounce of energy in her step, the way she practically glowed, and how her hair that was in a neat pony tail when she left was now down and tussled up.

She must’ve had a great time out.

“Hi sweetheart,” Nayeon set the mesh ladle down carefully onto the tray, “How was Mina?”

She opened her arms for Momo’s impending hug, which came so easily, her wife slipping so perfectly into her embrace.

“The usual,” Momo gave Nayeon a quick kiss, “Good, but a little pent up from work.”

“I’m sure you helped her with that,” Nayeon laughed, turning back to the pot. She set the lid on top of it to let it continue cooking as Momo practically skipped over to the couch.

“Of course,” she singsonged, plopping herself down on the chair of their small dining room a few steps away, “And now you have me all to yourself.”

“For now,” Nayeon scoffed, wiping her hands on her apron. Though they both knew there was no bite to it. Just a harmless joke at the absurdity of their self-imposed circumstances.

That aside, Nayeon wasn’t expecting to get the response she got next.

“For a while, actually.”

Nayeon’s hands stopped at the implication of those words. She snapped her head up, looking at Momo curiously. “Oh?”

In a second, she stood next to where Momo sat, eager for the details. Of course, Momo continued.

“Sana’s staying with Jeongyeon and Jihyo for a bit. Trying to… ,” she flicked her wrist, gesturing in the air towards nothing in particular, “work things out I guess.”

Which meant Jeongyeon and Jihyo were most likely off the table for Nayeon too.

“Is that so… well. Good luck to those three.”

“Good luck is right,” Momo agreed, cuddling into her wife the moment she sat down next to her.

There was more to it, that they both wanted to say. But it’d be a but unfair to call judgement so early. It’s not their business… but it also kind of is. So they let that unspoken discussion go for another time.

Don’t get them wrong, they knew their relationship had its kinks (the pun fully intended), but those three had much more to work out. While Nayeon and Momo were only romantically involved with each other, Jeongyeon, Jihyo and Sana were not, with Jihyo being a sort of middle man for the other two. Jeongyeon and Sana barely knew each other, which wasn’t shocking. Nayeon only knew her well because of how long she’s been friends with Momo.

She’d started out as just “Momo’s best fuckbuddy friend” a year ago, and slowly worked her way into the friend group, and then into Jihyo’s heart.

Now they didn’t hook up nearly as often because that was a whole situation on its own. But there was nothing they could do except hope for the best between everyone.

“Hmm….”

There was a purposeful lilt to Nayeon’s vocalization, one that begged for Momo to acknowledge it.

“Hm?” Momo took the bait so easily.

“If they’re still trying to figure things out by the end of the week, do you want to hit up that club in the city?” Nayeon smiled so cutely. All teeth, as if the prospect of what she was asking for was normal.

Well, it was their version of normal.

“The usual one for…?”

Nayeon nodded before Momo could even finish the question.

“For a little one time thing, yeah. Only if you feel up to it.”

Momo shook her head, but still pulled her wife in for a tender kiss on the forehead. “You’re restless this week.”

“Says the one who just got back from screwing Mina.”

“Ok, ok,” Momo knew she had her there, “I’ll let you know, but the answer as of right now is a yes.”

“Oh I knew it would be,” Nayeon laughed. After all, she knew her wife too well. She could deny it, but they both knew she was never one to turn down an opportunity to have fun with Nayeon. On her own, or with others, sure. But when it came to her wife, there was no one she’d rather do it with more, as crazy as that might have sounded out loud.

She just hoped that getting lucky would come quick and easy that weekend, if that was what they had to look forward to instead of having Jeongyeon over.

Patience was never one of her virtues.

#tied together au #is the name for now #namo #debating whether to keep this here or ao3 but for now i start here

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makima-s-most-smile · 11 months

Text

Trigun Ultimate 2 (Part 4)

Will this volume ever end? Why do I have so much to say?

OOOOooOOooooh, it is woowootime. Nyehehehehehehe *continues to say even more about its favourite character!*

Chapter 6: A gathering of demons

Oh, I love how nightow portrays the vastness of the desert. How much is an ile? How big is this planet? Is it earthlike? With no oceans and all... are the cities splayed out? I am European and live in a big city conglomerate. In two hours, I can switch countries and visit like 20 different cities. This picture reminds me of the "Wild West". I remember American friends being shocked at how connected everything is and how we Europeans see distance. For them a 4-12 hour drive is totally normal and you are still in the same state. I can only imagine that No-Man's-Land is even worse than that.

But what does that entail? Is travel between cities something regular or something you only do if you try and get work or flee from something? There is the big trade between the cities, but those have to be the outliers. Sandstreamers being something like trains. I imagine that they are mostly used for commerce, then. Transporting people has to be a lesser side hustle.

But how long does the journey with a bus between the cities take? I'd say days with the thoughts I just had.

I leave the Wolfwood introduction panel out, because of the limitations for pictures, but damn, it is good. It also took me too long to realise that this was not fabricated, but that Wolfwood literally had a bike mishap. His whole interaction with Vash reads differently for me when I take this into consideration.

Three things. 1. what I like about Wolfwood’s design is that if you don’t take the tit window and the facial scruff into consideration, he is dressed like a typical Japanese salary man! A nobody, one of many. Black short hair with suit, he could be a 0815 background character/random casualty in nearly any anime/manga. But here, he falls out of the line. All in black in the desert heat, that is suicide! He is not dressed like the others in typical western clothes. He’s an outlier from the start but at the same time a very usual sight for us readers!

2. I love how silly and welcoming he is. He is just a very charming random dude. We next to never see him interact with random people after this, so we miss this side of him in the later volumes. But he easily fits in and connects, even as a weird outlier. He is an idiot, but an idiot with street smarts.

3. Maybe because I am not a native English speaker, but I stumbled more than once over the word “tradesman” as a colloquial term for assassin. Kinda a roundabout way to say, hey, if you’re interested in me, I may provide you with more information and maybe I have the kind of skill you’re looking for. Tradesman basically means person with a specific skill, so not elaborating on that, but letting people mock him always reads for me as Wolfwood playing with being caught/putting his “profession” down/offering work. That he has a good eye is shown on the next page with him immediately realising who Vash is (at least he know the bounty pics and knows how to look. Wolfwood is not faceblind!)

Without the context of Milly being especially perceptive, this always read for me as Vash being absolutely annoyed by Wolfwood and being distrusting, when in reality he seems to be already warming up to him. Like with us readers, Wolfwood has wormed himself into his heart already. Who could deny Wolfy?

“‘Bout time I left, anyway.” Rings differently when you know him more. Wolfwood is a person that has his foot already out of the door to be not a burden to anyone nice. And we learn that in his introduction.

Wolfwood looks so damn fucking young there. I always have big problems in discerning ages in Manga. But even with his scruff, Wolfwood looks barely out of his teens.

When I think about the different WooWoo-versions, I always deck '98 as the oldest in his mid to end thirties, Ultimate barely 20, Trimax 30 max and Stampede... Sorry, StampWolfwood, you are still in your teens for me. You are baby.

I always remembered Wolfwood as a liar by omission, but damn, he is doing everything but spelling stuff out. “Not exactly just that…” Damn, and he looks so pained. Vash surely zoomed in on it. I now believe, the only reason why we know stuff so late about Wolfwood is because Vash never asked or tried to pin Wolfwood down.

The following pages is Wolfwood sharing his money with the orphans and I love it. We get to know Wolfwood as a very perceptive, benevolent and honest guy, who seems to be desperately begging for people to see him, to ask more about him. As much as he is funny, we also see someone who sees himself as a burden and who is burdened by a big responsibility and who still shares and gives as much as he can. No wonder Vash smiled with such earnesty. Wolfwood is the personification of what makes him still have hope in humanity.

Chapter 7: The demon’s eye

You know him just for this little bus drive and you already trust him with that info, Vash. Wolfwood is part of the team now, wether they realised it or not. Like I said in the chapter before, the journey must take longer, so they may have had a few days to bond.

He knows what happened. We learn in the next chapter why Wolfwood is there. It is easy to put two and two together for him.

Or regrets that they have to part ways and Wolfwood has to go back to being the Punisher. He had a short dance with Lady Death and then a little vacation where he could be human.

As much as we learn that Wolfwood hates his predicament, it is his duty. There is a reason why he does what he does.

It is kinda sad that Wolfwood left immediately. Nightow, most likely, had other stuff planned, but the cancellation of the magazine kinda threw a wrench into it. I kinda like how '98 did it with Vash and Wolfwood having their own little adventure on the journey.

Funny observation. People are there, because there is gunshots. Not children’s laughs or anything, it is gunshots that show that people are there. What a shitty world they live in.

08: The fifth moon

Did Legato control the corpses? Or did he “take in” the survivors and used experiments on them? Nicholas knows his bounties. Without him, I wouldn't peg them as the Slavers.

First of all, the hint/info that Vash and Knifes are both not human. A man between a rock and a hard place. A well-prepared dead man, but a dead man either way.

Since we as a reader already have a bond with Wolfwood, he is our point of reference for a "normal" human reaction to the shit that goes down. Nightow regularly flashes back to Wolfwood's reaction to it all. Either so we don't forget that he is part of the EVUL or to bring down that point how fucked up Knives is (especially with the SA-symbolism). People with uteri will agree either way that the scene with the sister being that pregnant and Knives bursting out is… massive body horror.

At least both legs and one arm are smashed, pelvis most likely, too, his head is squished into his torso, neck broken? and I have no idea how else he is crumbled up. Paper doll Legato

Vash didn’t only shoot himself to regain control. He shot Knives, too! He shot Knives to get free, but it was already too late.

While someone else (I am sorry, I am bad with names D; If I find you again, I will link your post) has put it brilliantly how Knives taking control over Vash can be read as assault, there is something else I’d like to point out.

Knives is the only person in the whole story who has been able to take control from Vash. We have seen him fight so many people, like Neon, Monev and others, but Vash never was not in control. He put rules upon himself that constricted him, e.g. the pacifism, but those constrictions were by his own decision. Vash takes into consideration that he may die, but it is by his own free will and as we have seen, he is a bit suicidal. Likewike, Vash gives people all the agency, all his agency. He mostly reacts to their decisions towards him. Knives is the only person in the whole world who is able to take away Vash’s agency and he uses that power over him. Not going into powerscaling or such a thing, but it shows what a powerful player Knives is.

Again, Wolfwood is our focus point for human reaction. Dude is scared out of his mind and mixing both brothers. Messengers of God coming to cast down judgement on us? That would be Knives, not Vash. But he demands an answer from Vash, with whom he already formed a connection. Wolfwood may feel even somewhat betrayed, as hypocritical as that is.

#trigunbookclub #trigun bookclub #Trigun Ultimate 2.4 #It is done #I am finally through with it #Also WooWoo #here to break my heart again

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basedkikuenjoyer · 4 months

Text

I Know a Magical Girl Plot When I See It

1103 is in that weird limbo of us getting a scan way before the official release. Happens end of every year. I'll leave any spoilies under the cutoff, and for now we can just take in this fun color spread. Featuring Yamato & Momonosuke. Neat. Not that these two track with anything in the chapter within or my feelings on it. It's the Year of the Dragon and all.

We all ready? Okay, diddly dee it's 1103!

Okay first off this is sweet. Bonney's really moved up into my top 10 in her own right and that doesn't get brought up enough in all the meta discussion. We get a weird answer to our question last time. What the next segment looks like. Here we get a little of the night before but well, put a pin in that. We will also end on Kuma's arrival. Right at the perfect moment as Bonney echoes the start of the flashback. That's cool. From that meta perspective though, there are two very important scenes:

This chapter will go on to mostly focus on Jewelry Bonney, Saint Saturn, and Bartholomew Kuma. But it's important to note these two panels. First, Vegapunk clearly punts the night before. We saw part of it, a discrete part that pertains to what's happening right now. But we take the time to bait Vegapunk implying there's more going on. Pairs nicely with our main moment for the main cast. Uhh...who fed Luffy? This isn't insignificant. Like, you have Saturn trying to demoralize Bonney and freaking out about this because he realizes he could be dealing with functionally two Nikas. So who fed him? Reminds me of Caribou on Wano of course but any of these little crackles are important to me for more...flowery reasons.

Especially when you have the element of becoming a game of attention. Whoever delivered the food it did it without being noticed. Just like our attention is on Bonney's unfurling drama so too is Saturn's. Setting up Luffy for a recuperative Gum Gum Willow Snacking. I like that it kinda reminds me of Katakuri even if unintended. Enough with this, let's get to the real skinny:

Hey Kuma. Sup? So he's here. It's the tone, the tone of this is so weird to me. I want you to think of the title. A magical girl show. Jewelry Bonney feels like she is at the final climax of one of those. Nah, think about it. You have Saturn laying down the bits about how the Toshi-Toshi fruit would get weaker over time. It really is a cursed ability in that it diminishes as you age. But imagine you're watching a series where Bonney is the star and you see that moment as the final villain is unravelling how all the evil was his doing. It's the stand-in for imminent adolescence. So fitting I'm talking Narnia that often gets criticized for being too on the nose about this idea with Susan.

It's a common thread for stories about young girls for a reason. It's not exactly uncommon for rambunctious, adventurous, & imaginative young girls to become a lot more sensible and down-to-earth young women very quickly. I've literally seen a full mahou shoujo series about a sick girl who stuck a deal with spirits to be able to temporarily become her future self as an idol. That one was a rehash of several others. A loss of innocence moment and time running out on being able to use that power are hallmarks of the ending there. Same with daddy coming to save the day. We got our weird meta shit going on in the background so I'm happy, hell yeah bear boy.

Bonney is fully in Yamato territory for now as far as I'm concerned. As far as story structure, honestly since we still were in the past the first part and Bonney had the thematic "better off dead" bookend you could say this is the end of the flashback. This time the little blip being the mystery pile of food instead of the end. There aren't exactly hard and fast rules here but it is a lot like the last time we came back to Egghead now more than after 1102. Even stuff like the recap. Last time it was Doberman who was a bit of an unreliable narrator, this time we split it between three groups rapid fire all with their own perspective which is cool.

#one piece #chapter 1103 #post wano musings

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akashigadabi · 11 months

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You can’t mention an AU where AFO and reader knew each other growing up and not elaborate!!

I’m already invested 👀👀👀

I could but I’m not that cruel so I will. Basically I had an AU floating around in my head (referenced here) where instead of meeting as adults, Reader and AFO meet when they’re much younger, and Reader befriends AFO. I was considering making this Reader have a different Quirk and to be a different one than Heretic!Reader, but I was a little on the fence about that. I don’t really mind it being young Heretic!Reader, but a new AU where Reader has a different Quirk and different skill sets and fighting style (and a different profession) is also very, very appealing. Of course, if there’s enough demand I could also find a way to do both, but I’m not sure how I’d do two lifelong friends AUs without boring everyone.

Anyway, I’m not sure if they were actual neighbors and Reader moved in down the street from AFO, or if Reader and AFO meet at school (or even something else, like their parents being friends and setting them up on playdates together). I also had an image in my head of Reader protecting AFO and Yoichi from bullies when they’re younger (imagine his internal awe when he looks at them, and him just retelling this later as the moment they met and he fell for them like two decades earlier cause he knew he’d love them the moment he saw them curbstomp three bullies at the same time despite being smaller than any of them) since AFO probably didn’t immediately know he had a Quirk, or if he did, he didn’t know what it was. And Reader can use their Quirk, and use it relatively well, from a young age. However, they don’t need it to kick ass cause they’re a little rougher than young AFO and they’ll scrap with anyone lmao 🤣 I have an image in my head of someone who absolutely doesn’t have a specific combat style but fights dirty, just this absolutely feral gremlin, but that can change cause I still have to determine Heretic’s fighting style, and I don’t want them to be the same style if they end up as different people.

I had a few other ideas too. Did you have any questions or anything you’d personally like to see @leatia25 ?

Editing to add the post that helped add fuel to the fire for the lifelong/childhood friend AU.

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mixing-bowl-of-stories · 5 months

Note

How did Alice and Owen start working together?

Ah the tale of how they met

Here’s what I mean when I say that Owen used to be a really horrible person:

Owen started working with Alice because he was hired by her.

Owen is a pretty big guy, and he’s pretty strong too. So she hired him around the time when Alice was planning to carry out the massacre of the De La Dáinn family.

At that point, she didn’t have enough people on her side to get the job done, and Owen, in desperate need of some money and would do anything to get out of his debt with the Morganian mafia and keep his life, was perfect for the job.

Owen was in his late 20’s when Alice hired him. They were around the same age, Alice was pretty, not to mention the fact that she was putting in the effort to try and win him over. So he agreed.

Once he agreed, he couldn’t back out.

He didn’t know what exactly he was getting himself into until Alice explained the plan. And Owen knew that if he left, it wouldn’t be pretty.

So he carried out the murders, being the main attacker in it all with Sergeant Boris Abir, Dion Falls, Lady Matilda Delta, Lorraine Russel, and Jeffery Gilson.

Owen never truly got over what he did to the De La Dáinn’s, in fact the only reason Diana and Elizabeth even survived is because his conscience took over and he told the two to get out of there and get as far away as possible. He lied his ass off to the others about how they managed to escape and how it wasn’t his fault.

So Owen, now thoroughly too deep in this whole mess to get out, gets a good chunk of the De La Dáinn’s fortune, and ends up meeting the Lockwoods, aka, Alice’s employers at the time.

He made plenty of weapons and machinery for the Lockwoods, did a lot of their bidding, and gave them the machines necessary to become absolutely terrifying tyrants.

After the Lockwoods are killed by Diana and Elizabeth’s adventuring party, Owen flees with the rest of the associates and Alice.

Owen and Alice start their plans to make Noah around this time.

Noah was never supposed to have a conscience, he was just supposed to be another murder machine that Owen made.

But Owen found himself caring a lot about this project and getting a lot closer to it than he had before, partially because he realized this could be the cure to his curse. But not only that, he felt it could make up for his sins.

Instead of taking a life, he was going to make it instead. He was going to create an android that purposefully would always go out of his way to help people, even if they didn’t necessarily deserve it.

So he built the kindness into Noah. He built a conscience into him, Which is exactly why Noah started retaining memories and opinions.

Eventually Alice and Owen have a falling out, and they break off their relationship. Alice threatening Owen with his life if he didn’t leave the project with her.

So Owen is back on his own, a fortune he never touches because it’s blood money and the weight it has on his mind, a lost project he expects never to see again, and at a loss for what to do with the rest of his short life.

So, in order to make some money that isn’t from a heinous act, he starts working at a tavern as a barkeep.

Years pass, and eventually a group of rowdy young adults walks in and starts causing some trouble.

One is a young man with a strange line down his face and yellow eyes, there are three triplet siblings, one of which doesn’t seem too inclined to join in causing trouble, there are two halfling siblings, three tieflings, two of which look suspiciously similar to the Lockwoods, three people from the restless borderlands, and lastly, a girl with white hair.

And he recognized who Pandora was the instant he saw her, because she bears a striking resemblance to Diana.

So imagine his surprise when he’s trying to avoid attention, that Pandora walks up to him and begins apologizing profusely for the group’s behavior.

Owen carefully explains his past to her once she strikes up the conversation, leaving out details, and Pandora offers him to join their group and that “they’re not as bad as they act in a tavern…” (they are as bad as they act in a tavern but they get better)

Owen thinks about it and realizes that maybe this is the gods giving him a chance to make up for what he’s done.

And so, he cautiously accepts.

#bowl mixes #Owen cogwright #the crux #the tales of selcouth #writeblr #writing #writers on tumblr #original character #oc #original oc #original story #original writing #writeblr community

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ciaossu-imagines · 11 months

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Gods, now you put me on the spot. I’m not that good with putting certain things into words so hope it turns out alright.

First I want to say that when it comes down to your Nanbaka answer, I totally agree. Hachiman is extremely hateable after all for everything that he has done and absolutely deserves your hate, though I didn’t pay him much attention while watching / reading the series and focused more on the much more lovable Building 5 (main) inmates. I can’t really say that anyone fell flat for me because I don’t generally look at characters that deeply. I love someone extremely, love them or hate them (sometimes but rarely extremely here as well) or think they’re fine. I know it’s strangely worded but hope it makes sense 😅

Now for the stuff on the characters we love. I totally understand your feelings of ‘must protect’ when it comes down to Seitarou since he really is so nice and precious and deserves so much better. I love the main group, they’re in no way my absolute faves but I really do love them and their dynamic. Your comment about Mitsuru is a big yes because I also love him immensely. In the past I’ve called him ‘a chaotic dumbass who you can’t help but love’ and I still stand by that. Especially when you see he does care for the others. With me, Hajime is just another character honestly. I do agree with what you said about him and it really is nice but since I’m a more of a fun-loving, free-spirited person, working with him would be far too stifling for me. But I’m glad you relate to him so much 😀 For me, my absolute fave is defintely Samon. He’s just so, so good and I really can’t help but love him. I also loves his relationship with the inmates because he gives off such dad vibes when it comes down to how he acts towards them sometimes. Also, I kind of have a protective feeling over him because of how clearly alone he is in so much. I haven’t read all of the manga so I don’t know how he and the other guards’ relationships progress but I do hope that he can rely on others more as time goes on. And you mentioned that you were near tears during the Building 5 arc, well I actually cried. It really was such a well-made arc and I hope to see more of that kind of stuff in the future.

I also love the HOMRA alphabet boys, though excluding Chitose. It’s so annoying because when it comes down to him, he had the potential to be quite a decent guy, a bit sleazy sometimes but still decent in his own way, but then he goes ahead and says and does some really questionable / creepy things and I just can’t stand behind that. And worst bit is I don’t know whether the authors intended for him to come across as bad (for the lack of a better word) as he is (at least for me) so there’s that as well. Also I’ll just add as a footnote that I don’t like Kusanagi for how he was towards Yata in being physically aggressive with him to shut him up. That was clearly intentional on the author’s behalf and that’s fine and good even since it adds to his character, just don’t like him for it. Also, I do understand where he’s coming from since he was given a lot of responsibility at such a young age (seriously imagine your best friend gaining immense powers when you’re only 21 and you then soon after having to start looking after a bunch of rowdy teens / young men) but that doesn’t make it good and I still don’t like him for it.

That being said when it comes down to characters I love I have the golden trio of Mikoto, Yata and Bandō. I love all three of them immensely and for different reasons that I hope to be able to explain clearly. If it ends up being too much, I’m really sorry for that. Yata’s been my fave since the very beginning, I honestly think I was about the same age as him when I watched the series for the first time so that might have also added to it. Strong cool character with a soft caring side is also just an amazing combo. Not only that but I also always understand where he’s coming from when it comes down to his emotional reactions (as someone who’s like that myself) and I really love his emotional intelligence. He really does always know what to say to help his loved ones (even if near the beginning of the series it might have taken some time) and it’s truly so beautiful. I also really love his development throughout the series and he truly is such a great older brother. Also, I just love his loyalty and honesty (considering those two are also important things for me). Plus his determination is so, so nice. I’m not sure whether you read the Lost Small World novel but in it he had to get his hands on a way of transport and he saw some older kids skateboarding and asked them if he could have a skateboard and they were like “Sure. If you can do this trick.” and even though it took ages for him to be able to do it and ended up bruised, he did it and acted like it was no big. I feel like there’s probably still stuff missing from this but he’s been an important part of my life for at least 6 years so yeah, there’s that.

Hopefully the other two are easier to less ramblely. I’m going to give you reasons Mikoto is one of my faves next because I also relate to him, as a fellow introvert and other reasons I’ll get into later. First of all the most obvious one (to me) he cares immensely about his friends (and also cares about innocents even if he’ll never admit it) and is willing to do anything for their safety. He also gives those around him the freedom that they want and as someone who isn’t especially a fan of being told what to do, I really appreciate that. He also respects others wishes, like when Fushimi left HOMRA in Lost Small World (I think it was then, I don’t remember the exact novel but Mikoto was totally chill with Fushimi leaving because Fushimi wanted that and that’s all that was important to him). There’s another thing that I also realised earlier this year which was kind of big. It just adds to his relatability in a way. Mikoto became the Red King when he was 18 and I also had a life changing experience in a negative way at a relatively young age (was slightly older so not super young but still young) so I in a way understand where he’s coming from. On a different note, I do also like that even though Mikoto is quite stupid at various points, especially when it comes down to doing something reckless, he still is quite smart and is good at figuring certain things out. This has no order to it so sorry for that and I hope this is the last bit. It’s really sweet just how soft he can be with those around him. Like he reassures you in this calm way and you know it’s going to be fine with hardly even saying anything and you just know you can trust him. He’s always been one of my faves when it came down to K but it’s only recently that he’s started meaning as much to me as he does so that’s why he’s part of the list now.

And finally Bandō, last but certainly not least in any kind of way. As opposed to the two above, I don’t really relate to him in some grand way even though we both aren’t the best at putting certain things into words and love doing stuff on the computer. I know I’m just going to keep on saying it but I just love how he cares and it was so sweet that even through all of his complicated feelings towards Shōhei, he still always had his back. There’s this personality type thing called the Enneagram and each person’s type has a tritype and Bandō’s tritype is called ‘The Rescuer’ if that name isn’t just him I don’t know what is. Not only when it comes down to physical rescuing mind you, he’s also just so supportive in all the right ways and really is so great. I wish more people in the series saw that and told him. Or at least one person and stood by their words. Not only that but man is *gorgeous* so that’s also just a really nice addition to all of his great personality traits. This paragraph is so much shorter than my previous ones and I hate it because I seriously love him so much but like I said, I’m not great at putting things into words so here it is. It might also be because there isn’t much canon material about him so I don’t have as much to reference. Though I’m still holding out hope that maybe one day there will be.

I’ll also add that I love Eric’s sass and just who he is, Fujishima is such a sweetie and the animals of the world (and people) are lucky to have him and I honestly have nothing to say on Dewa since we really did not get enough of that man.

Also it’s interesting that you said that Kuroh gives you the creeps. I never considered that before but do see where you’re coming from. Doesn’t really change my opinion on him since I do think he’s entertaining, but yeah, interesting to know. And it is a shame what happened to Shiro and I can see why you’d find him boring later in the series but I’m still glad he was still important to the plot until the very end. I have nothing to say on Nagare honestly since for me he just is another character. But I did like your headcanons of him some time ago so try not to be too hard on yourself. That’s all. Sorry that it turned into such an essay 😅 I’m not good with wording things concisely either so it turned into this. Hope you at least got some kind of enjoyment out of reading it and have a lovely day ahead.

Hey!! I'm so sorry; this is a late reply and it's done on my phone during my lunch break so it's not going to be as long, eloquent, or as nicely formatted as things are when I do them on my laptop so please forgive that!! But I definitely wanted to let you know that I loved reading these! It's fun to hear people's thoughts on the characters, even if their thoughts differ from mine in some ways, because there are some characters we see differently (for example, I do really enjoy Kusanagi) or don't mesh on every area about!! One, it's just fun to hear people talk about things they love and two, it gives me a new perspective on characters to hear others thoughts and why they feel that way about them, which is always cool!!

A couple of specifics - I completely get why Hajime might not be a lot of people's cup of tea!! He is very much a character I feel you either enjoy or don't, no real middle ground, and I can see all the reasons to dislike him!! But my ass is very much type A and slightly a workaholic so I do feel some kind of 'can relate, dude' when it comes to him, though I am much, much less violent (unless you count being violently people-pleasing, haha)!

And I loved how Yata was your first love in K Project, and I actually laughed at that a little but just because I was talking to someone else a little bit ago and had mentioned how Yata seemed to be everyone's first fave in K that I've talked to, except for me!! The trend continues!!

Thank you so much for sending this in because I can tell how much effort and passion went into it, and I truly enjoyed reading it so much!!

#admin chatter

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dandelionlovesyou · 1 year

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What's sparked the rebellion? Was it Katniss' volunteering for Prim, Rue’s death, the berries, or was it before all of that?

How does many THG victors joined or being recruited for the rebellion?

Thoughts?

Thank you 😊

@curiousnonny

Hi @curiousnonny =)

Warning: I rambled on!

I think it was a series of things and not just one event. I imagined Plutarch answering this question and he would probably say that it was an orchestra or a series of domino blocks. It could also be a chess game that was being played for years. People leave chess boards untouched, you know? The game just stagnates until a move feels right.

For the rebellion, the pieces have been set and the players made their move. Some years the Rebel player got to eat a Capitol pawn, more years Snow got to take out more Rebel pieces. Maybe a rook, a horse, or a bishop, maybe even a queen (District 13). The Rebel player was probably down to only a few pawns and two to three higher-ranking pieces, but it was mostly pawns. When Katniss came into the picture, I imagined her as a pawn making its way to the other end of the board without Snow noticing it. He was too busy nailing the Rebel king. But lo and behold Katniss (the rogue and brave pawn) reached the other end and got to resurrect a queen. She was the queen and wreaked havoc in the chess match. I don’t know if I make sense here. It’s moves and counter-moves done at the right time with the right piece.

Katniss has this series of events in her life that led her to become the Mockingjay. If I look at her biography, I could even say that her whole life was leading her to become this symbol of the Rebellion. She was the daughter of a Seam-Merchant family -- something rebellious on its own. She was raised to know both worlds while living in the Seam (she’s in touch with the poorest of the poor). She got to go out to the woods, something that not everyone got to do. She ended up loving it, because hey, what child wouldn’t love an adventure? She experienced love growing up, and the possibilities of what a better life could be if you have loving and devoted parents. But tragedy had to strike, teaching her another lesson and moving her mightily forward at age twelve. But she wasn’t totally left hanging because she still found hope in the form of a blonde boy with the bread. The image of Peeta sustained her, add to this the constant love of her father that she carried everywhere. Katniss did say that he father seemed to be everywhere she went. Katniss volunteering for Prim was of the love that she learned from her parents. She was motherly (though she wouldn’t admit it). Yes, it was maybe from circumstance too, because she had to, but I think it was more because she had love cultivated in her heart at a young age. What she did for Rue was the same. Same for Peeta all throughout. Same for Gale at the whipping post. Same for Effie when she apologized after an outburst. Same for meeting the injured in District 8. Katniss loved and moved with that love that she didn’t fully understand.

Katniss thought outside the box and moved willfully and with passion. All of these led to the berries, standing up for Gale at the whipping post, shooting the force field, “If we burn, you burn” lines, shooting Coin, singing for all of Panem to see in the propos, and more. She didn’t know the full extent of the effect she had. It was Peeta who did. Also Haymitch, Cinna, Plutarch, Coin, and Snow.

On the other victors being part of the rebellion, I think those in the outlying districts were part of it even from before the 74th games. They couldn’t do much except during the times of the games because that was when they could be mobilized between districts. Snow suppressed communication and transportation. His strategy was to cut off everyone from each other so they couldn’t unify as one. That was probably the biggest hindrance to the uprising.

Thank you for the ask @curiousnonny!

#answered ask #thg #rebellion

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rymurrsneckbeard · 2 years

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💕 🧸 👀

OKAY I FINALLY GOT THIS WRITTEN.

So this was asking for: a moment of jealousy between exes with feelings with a side of forced proximity. And heeeere we go.

Because I've been wanting to write a little old school Yzerman/Shanahan for a WHILE now and this gave me the perfect opportunity. With a little side of boytoyKyleDubas.

I don't think this is enough to have a title or anything, just a little blurby thing

It's the first night of the draft in Montreal, and buzz on the floor is as loud as Steve has ever heard it; apparently everyone is excited to be back in person. It likely comes as no surprise to anyone who knows him, but Steve preferred the last two years; he's more than happy to do this process from the comfort of his home office. It's not that he hates people, he just hates the politics of it, the need for media-savvy soundbytes and putting up with reporters who ask the same idiotic questions year after year. It's dealing with other GMs offering him their ECHL caliber left wingers for his top line centers. It's putting up with hockey dads who want to be involved in every step of their sons' draft day the way they've forced their way into every part of their hockey development so far.

Okay, maybe it's a little bit that he hates people.

Steve imagines that this used to be a very different event. His own draft feels like it was ages ago - mostly because it was - and he doesn't remember much of what was happening on the floor. He was just waiting to hear his name being called. Back then he imagines GMs had the ability to slam a phone down when someone offered something insulting. Now he just has to angrily stab the End Call button on his iPhone touchscreen. It doesn't have the same effect.

In the minutes before the draft officially starts, the phone calls ease, at least to him. The Red Wings aren't one of the top three picks, those are the GMs fielding the most requests right now. He uses the break in the action to get up and stretch his legs; his knee hasn't been right since 2001, a quick stroll along the draft floor will help loosen the joint. Unfortunately, though, just a moment later he regrets the decision.

He keeps his head down as he passes the table with the Maple Leaf insignia and avoids any and all eye contact. It's not like he never sees Brendan around - they both have executive jobs with the NHL, they tend to be in the same place at the same time more often than he'd prefer- but the draft gives Steve a particular opportunity to be faced with him for days at a time. And it's never just Brendan, of course. Next to him, always directly next to him, is the nerdy boytoy he calls a general manager.

Supposedly the kid is in his late 30s, which would still be entirely too young for Brendan, but he looks far younger. He looks like he'd be the right age to date Isabella. Steve would want to punch him in the face for that too.

He's met Kyle Dubas on a few occasions and it's been obvious each time that Brendan hasn't clued him into their messy history. Kyle has been friendly and clearly impressed by Steve's resume. Steve isn't so oblivious as to realize that he gives him the same hero-worship gaze as he gives Brendan. If he had the patience for it, it would serve Brendan right for Steve to seduce the kid out from under him.

Unlike Brendan, Steve has managed to find some dignity as he's gotten older.

"Hey Stevie, what's going on?"

The affection of the nickname from years gone by irks him as he turns to reply. "Just Steve, I've told you a few times now. And I'm fine, thanks."

Brendan laughs, an incredulous thing. "Amazing how you can be so formal about nicknames and show up here in a zip-up."

"I don't feel much need to dress up. The last couple years spoiled me. And anyway, it's not my draft, this is about the kids showing off. Like that one." He nods towards the Leafs' table, Dubas on the phone, hand covering his mouth as he works on some deal that may or may not work out. "Oh wait that's not a draft pick, that's your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend. And jealousy doesn't suit you, Stevie," Brendan says, but he looks like he's won something.

"Steve. And yeah, I guess you're right. I'm too old for jealousy. Just like you're too old to be fucking someone my daughter's age." His outburst has drawn a couple sets of eyes and Steve rolls his neck, takes a deep breath as he waits for them to lose interest. "In any case, I've got calls to make. Good luck today."

Brendan doesn't step out of his way. He's going to make this more difficult; it's something he was always good at. "Isabella's not even 30 and he's pushing 40, but I don't think you care that much about the semantics, do you?"

"It's been twenty years, Brendan. Old news. No one cares anymore."

A laugh, humorless, escapes his mouth. "You sure seem to have some unresolved anger about it."

Steve flexes his jaw and shakes his head, letting out a snort. "It's not anger to think your mid-life crisis boytoy is embarrassing. I thought you were better than that. Guess that's another thing I had wrong about you."

"You had a wife, you had kids, and I was the one in the wrong?" Brendan's voice has dropped in volume and timbre, stepping closer so Steve can still hear him. To an outside audience this could be any benign discussion about a potential trade. No one is paying much attention.

"We had an agreement, you knew all about that."

Brendan gusts out something that's not quite a laugh. "Of course, an agreement. It worked out great for you. No matter what happened you had a family back home waiting."

You could've been a part of that family. Steve doesn't say it out loud, never really has. He always just thought Brendan would've figured it out on his own. It's been twenty years now, and it's far too late for that discussion.

"We're too old to rehash this battle, Brendan."

"Shanny," he says automatically. When Steve cocks an eyebrow he repeats himself. "No one fuckin' calls me Brendan, and you sure as hell never did. Shanny."

Steve rubs a hand over his face and lets out a breath through his teeth. "You know this discussion is pointless. It's been too long, too much has changed. We've got a draft to manage, I should get back to that."

Brendan nods slowly, lips pursed. "We never had this discussion back then either. Just how you always wanted it." He shakes his head, not even attempting to mask the roll of his eyes. "Good luck with the draft, Steve."

He's gone before Steve can reply, and that's probably for the best; Steve isn't entirely sure he kept the disappointment off his face when Brendan actually called him by the right name this time.

#i don't even know what to tag this tbh

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eluryae · 3 months

Text

TW Blood-Death-Horror

A Rainy Night

When the winds in the sky are no longer strong enough to hold the water in suspension. It falls, creating the natural phenomenon so well known to men: rain.

That evening, it had turned into a torrential storm, the winds had held it for weeks.

With his lightning, he tore the sky. Drops of water fell and hammered the ground, making it moist, then viscous, muddy, a slimy vase clinging to all, anyone wanting to walk that night was sure to lose at least his shoes, if not life. But no one dares to go out, it is too cold, too dark; people barricade themselves at home and console their children petrified by the fear from the light of white lightning… The peasants are not bold enough to go and guard their fields from thieves, hoping that the rain will fulfill their roles as guardians…

How wrong they were.

In times of famine like these, anyone would dare to brave the storm, die of it or drown in the mud, if in the end they manage to gather some food for their comrades. That night, three men made their choices, walking alone between the houses, ponchos hiding their faces and clumsily sheltering them from the rain, their boots sinking into the vase and leaving repeatedly, dodging the channels of water as they climbed a slope, and trying not to trip down a hill; they looked like a group of three soggy rats looking for a piece of food.

They approached the field, surrounded by iron and barbed wire, the only entrance being a heavy metal door, useless when guarded by a rusty padlock… A simple pair of shears overcame this poor protection. The three men looked around them, still persons.

It’s open, let’s go…

"Close behind you fool!"

-It’s okay, it’s okay, nobody’s there anyway, we’re the only pecnos here… Even with this "reassuring" sentence, the group can’t help but look around inside, no one.

-Okay, the reserve is about 100 metres away, we’ll run, we’ll have to hurry, we’ll get a bag and off we go...

The group advanced in the rain, their ponchos floating in the wind giving them the air of birds flying close to the ground. The plants of more than 2 meters among which they progress did not interest them, inedible for whom does not have the art of preparing them.

No, what was interesting was the reserve in the center of the field, housing bags of valuable food already ready for consumption.

When the three men arrived at the door, it did not resist them, not even having a lock. Inside, wooden pallets with top and protected by a plastic sheath, the precious bags. The group entered, they removed their hoods, revealing their faces. They were not even in their twenties, yet their youthful faces no longer had the innocence that we usually know young people of that age. And their wonder at food betrayed a gigantic hunger in them…

"By Eluryae! What kind of selfish man cares for this field to keep so much food on his own?"

-Not everything is for him, this farmer is at the command of the new Eluryian mafia, the leaders are stuffing themselves with food while the other inhabitants outside die of hunger… Natei comes to help me take this one, Rotè guards the door. The so-called Natei came to the rescue of his companion while the other took out a rusty gun from his pocket. Intrigued, he spoke: But, uh, Ekyl, those famous leaders, isn’t that one of them that got his ass kicked this morning?

-Ha! You don’t think so, he didn’t get beaten up like you could imagine, no, he died from a bullet in the head, but not only, the face was burned, but like black I’m not telling you, and most importantly, he had his balls exploded.

"Wait, wait, these guys are the scariest guys in the country right now, and you’re telling me one of them died, and was tortured?"

-That’s exactly what I just told you, and there (he had trouble talking and at the same time cutting off the protection of the bags) you will ask me the question of who, most likely it would be a rival gang, but witnesses think they saw, former members of, Hold on tight, The Guild. Rotè intervened in the conversation.

-I don’t believe that for a second, it doesn’t look like them at all, maybe imitators, but not the originals, in my opinion--

"Shush! Wait! Go, go!" The bag gave way and slipped into the hands of Natei who struggled not to fall under his weight.

-You know, Rotè, war can do a lot of harm to people, it can go from a bag robbery to a street beating… Rotè did not answer, he seemed more eager to return rather than to linger here.

-Okay, let’s go.

Taking the same path, the worry of fear now gave way to the success of the heist, the pride of the mischief accomplished, they would be able to eat, they were heroes.

"Ekyl, they told you to close the door, didn’t they?" -Don’t yell at me that’s what I did… "I didn’t tell you to put a new padlock on it."

But for some, they’re thieves. The joy now gone, the lightning seemed stronger, the rain more torrential than ever, and above all, the feeling of solitude was gone, leaving only a disturbing presence running, insinuating into their gut an unpleasant sensation called terror.

Rotè’s weapon was shaking in his hand. -Natè throws the bag on the other side, we will find another way out…Natè? The latter did not answer, he looked into the void, he dropped the bag, then fell face down in the mud, the blood coming out of his mouth and intestines diluting in the puddles. "Oh shit!" From panic, Ekyl began to run in fear, Rotè was alone, his companion had come out of his field of vision so quickly that he believed that he too had disappeared, suddenly, something caught Natè’s body and he disappeared in the plantations.

Rotè began to run on the opposite side, looking as far as he could for an exit, a hole, somewhere, a weakness in the fence, no, it seemed perfect, the barbed wire was impassable, impossible to climb without losing a limb, but was it the price to pay? Without ceasing to swear, the man gave up all dignity and began to dig with his hands, like a rat trying to flee a predator with all his might, a predator who seemed everywhere at once. He felt him running towards him, arriving at an inconceivable speed, it was not another man who followed him, it must have been something else. He started running again, at first on all fours, trying with difficulty to get up with his clothes soaked and heavy with wet earth.

His foot stumbled, no, he corrected himself when the information of the pain reached his brain, he was cut in half, just like his leg, he fell to the ground in a cry of pain, his face in the mud, tried to turn, but something caught him, and lifted him from the ground by the neck… The thing, humanoid, looked at him, not with curiosity but with judgment. Rotè did not even have time to ask for mercy, a blue flash passed before his eyes filled with mud before he became permanently blind. Her vocal cords died out on their own when they could no longer expel the pain, making it white, suffocating.

Burped could only feel now, his hand closed on cold and icy dirt, his other leg threw it, he tried in vain to restore his sight by removing the blood that came out of his eyeballs from his other hand. His mind stopped fighting when he heard the sound of pieces of his own spine falling to the ground.

The first cry of pain had also warned Ekyl, who was trying to defend himself from his fear with his rusty gun, containing only a few bullets.

Then he saw a figure, armed with a katana, whose blue blade reflected the flashes, his face half-lit, his short hair badly cut and tinted, and a look filled with a sad and cold hatred, almost flat… He shot, maybe it was luck or excellent mastery, but the ball was aimed at the face of the man looking at him, closer to his cheek more precisely… And crossed the void.

For a second flash confirmed this vision of horror that was this broken soldier who was missing at least a quarter of the face and the bust, exposing in a gaping way his jaw, leaving the drops to flow on the exposed bone of the face, then on the metal shoulder, from the coast, and finally fall to the ground.

He shot a second time, and the vision disappeared, to reappear in the form of a fist in Ekyl’s stomach, which folded in two, before suddenly rising with a second blow to the face, breaking his nose in passing, his weapon disappeared in the thickets when his hand was cut with it.

Ekyl tried to take the pain, pulled a knife out of his sleeve with his other hand, and attacked the man who dodged too easily, he no longer even played with his victim, he showed him how vain his attempt was. With a simple gesture, he took the knife from his hands, and plunged it into his throat, watching it die slowly, before closing the eyelids of his valid hand. The body fell to the ground, the man washed his bloody blade, and with a grunt, took the body of the man on his shoulder, to transport it in a pile with the rest of the others whose head he sliced before placing them on a peak at the entrance of the field, Next to the others, everyone saw it, but everyone didn’t know it… Then he took the bag, and laid it in the storeroom, and sat down in the storeroom, and prayed that others might not have had the same idea…

He didn't knew if he found peace or a guilty pleasure in the death of those people, but shame, oh yes he was ashamed.

Nalcov Grady opened his eyes again when he heard a padlock jump and a door creak.

#writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #tw blood #tw death

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