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kkrazy256 · 3 years

Note

“ i thought i lost you. ” with my fav bros Fox and Thorn? <3 (all the sentences are soooo good)

Hey Amiko <3 Hope you don't mind that I used this prompt for CommanderFoxWeek @loving-fox-hours

Title: Redemption Inside the Grave

Prompt(s): Day 2: Hope | Forgiveness, "I thought I lost you"

Warnings: None

Characters: Commander Fox and Commander Thorn

Additional Tags: Post- Scipio, Commander Fox Needs a Hug

Word Count: 1821

[On Ao3]

The amount of datawork that sits on Fox’s desk after a mission is usually a good indicator of how it went.

Good missions start with stacks of blueprints, detailed strategies, and the files of his best troops. These missions end with minimal thanks (it’s expected, it’s what they’re made for. What need is there to show gratitude?), and most troopers on the file with their status update still green and labeled functioning. There isn't much datawork for these types of missions.

Bad missions start hurried by time and Senators, with minimal preparation, and not enough vode (never enough vode). They end with everyone important mad. Mad at him (of course, who else? He deserves it. He deserves it all. He fucked up. He’s always fucking up). It ends with spitting insults about incompetence and hurling threats of decommissioning. But none of it hurts. At least it never hurts more than the blocks of red (deceased) on the files he has to read through and sign off on. These missions end with more vode coming back in bodybags than on their feet, and Fox can’t help but think, I did that to them.

The worst missions? It’s the ones where he wakes up underwater, a weight heavier than an anvil over his chest, stealing every breath and pushing him deeper and deeper into the dark. Missions where he does things he doesn’t fully comprehend beyond I followed my orders, I am a good soldier. Only to look back and think, is he?

It’s holding up his blaster with still hands and perfect calm. It’s taking deadly aim even when he sees the resignation in Rex’s eyes and feels nothing. Nothing until the body hits the floor and he can’t take his own helmet off to pay respects because what right does he have? Because his hands are finally starting to shake, the weight of his actions hitting all at once and dragging him to the bottom of the ocean floor.

But this,

Fox looks down at the stack of datapads on his desk. The room is dark, the desk lamp unplugged and on the ground. There are no windows. The air is stuffy and stagnant; he wonders if they are cleaning the vents again.

The top datapad lights up when he lifts it. The halo of blue illuminates his immediate area. The helmet sitting at the corner looks purple, the visor staring back at him like a void. Every time he blinks, it burns from somewhere behind his eyes. Fox doesn’t remember the last time he truly slept. (Before the ARC trooper, before Scipio —)

It’s a mission summary report, written hastily enough for there to be a few typos. It’s short, barely a few paragraphs long, and his eyes glide over the words without retaining anything. His focus is on the attached list of updated statuses.

It’s all red. Red Red Red Red.

He thinks these types of missions are even worse than the ones where he doesn’t have control.

Red Red Red.

These missions should not end like this. They go prepared, they go with their best.

Red Red Red.

So why do they end like this?

Red Red Red —

Green.

The stack of datapads shift slightly, and the desk trembles as a shadow settles on the edge.

“If it breaks, I’m stealing your desk.” He pinches the bridge of his nose hard, and the throbbing ebbs away into something dull.

“Does that mean you’ll do my datawork too?” Thorn’s voice is light and teasing, but something’s off. He leans forward to pick up the helmet and the blue lights up his face. His eyes are tired, but the crinkling around the edges always betray his mirth. There’s no crinkling there right now; Thorn just looks exhausted. His hands turn the helmet around, fingers tracing over the painted wings on the temples.

“I’ll do it for Scipio.” Fox blurts out, and the fingers pause.

“You don’t have to.”

“I do,” Fox doesn’t know why he does, but there’s something pressing in the back of his brain, telling him that he shouldn’t let Thorn do it, “you should get some rest. Remedy would kick your sheb if he finds out you came here instead of to medbay.”

“Well, you don’t have to snitch.” Thorn sniffs and Fox shakes his head with a scoff. He picks up the stylus to start going over the report in detail.

A gloved hand lands on the corner of the datapad, and Fox looks up. Thorn’s eyes reflect the blue glow, flickering to read the upside-down words.

“Hawk found me.” Thorn whispers.

Fox remembers the pilot during one of the 501st’s shore leaves. Thorn’s batchmate is slightly more serious than Thorn himself, but they share the same air of wild freedom, unable to be tied down. He remembers them taking off their helmets with matching grins, showing him their twin emblazoned wings.

“How’d he look?”

“Horrified. Scared.” Thorn’s laugh is humorless, “I thought he was going to kill me himself if I wasn’t a—.....it wasn’t pretty, Fox.” he swallows hard, “there wasn’t much we could do.”

“...You went with less than two platoons. None of us were expecting the level of activity you got.”

The hand pulls back, leather creaking under the pressure of a clenched fist, “I lost them all, ori’vod.”

“But you’re here.” Fox places his own hand over Thorn’s. Everything feels cold, “I...it’s not your fault.”

“I think if any fingers are to be pointed, it would be towards the commanding officer during the mission, Fox. Which would be me.”

“You weren’t supposed to be the one leading Scipio.” Fox snarls and the aftermath of his outburst echoes through the room. He takes a shuddering breath.

“I was.”

“Fox…”

The air gets stuck in his lungs, and he kneads his palms into his eyes hard enough to see sparks behind the lids.

Scipio was supposed to be his mission. But he was—still is, a complete and utter wreck. After the incident with the ARC trooper, he hadn’t had a chance to stop. It became a blur of meetings. With the Chancellor, with Skywalker, with Rex, with his Guard. All with little variation. Everyone just wanted to know, what happened?

And Fox didn’t have a good answer for any of them.

He’s so tired.

And Thorn had found him in his office then, just as he did now. He had found Fox sitting at his desk with the stylus in a death grip, staring at plans and contingencies. Found him running on fumes that not even caf could fix at that point. Found Fox in his arms immediately to steady him when he stood and started careening to the side.

I fucked up, Thorn. I fucked up so bad.

I’ll go to Scipio. We’ll talk more when I get back, alright? Please get some rest, ori’vod. Please.

And Fox had agreed. Because he was tired.

Tired of seeing the ARC trooper’s bone-white armor out of the corner of his eye every time he started to slip. Tired of the Chancellor’s oily praise for a job well done in killing a vod for the Republic. Tired of Skywalker’s needling curiosity. Tired of Rex not blaming him. Tired of everyone telling him, it’s—

“Fox, it’s not your fault.” Thorn’s words from before the mission mesh with the words that Thorn’s repeating right now.

“Well, who’s is it then?” Fox snaps, slamming his palms back down on the desk. His vision blurs with random patterns from the prolonged darkness, and Thorn’s image swims in front of him. He had gotten about an hour of unconsciousness before his comm beeped with urgent matters from the Chancellor. He’s been on his feet ever since.

He should’ve just stole some stims and gone to Scipio.

“Why aren’t you all angry?” He continues, the plastic of the datapad strains under his grip, “not you, not Stone, not Thire. Not—” He stutters, “not Rex. None of you are, and I don’t understand .”

“Why do you want us to be, Fox?”

He falters, heart stuck in his throat. It beats erratically and his stomach turns.

If they’re mad, there’s something to work with. He can apologize (even if it means absolutely nothing). Amends can be made (how. You fucking bastard, how?) He can fix it. He has to fix it.

How?

“You want us to be angry because you’re angry with yourself.” Thorn sets his helmet down, leaning forward to study Fox with dark eyes that see through his very core.

His lips curl upwards.

“Oh, ori’vod. You want us to forgive you.”

There are tears in Thorn’s eyes. (Or are they his own?)

Thorn’s forehead presses against his, and Fox presses back with a sobbing exhale.

“You already have it. We’re not the ones you’re looking for forgiveness from.”

A strand of long hair slips from Thorn’s ponytail and brushes against his cheek. It hits Fox with a sudden urge for how things used to be. Back when the war had only just started, and they were all shiny and thought things would get better. Back when he had enough time and energy to sit in the command lounge and braid Thorn’s hair clumsily.

Hound’s better at this than I am, you know.

Mmm, yeah but I want my ori’vod to braid my hair.

Spoiled little kih’vod.

“I thought I lost you.” He manages between hitched keening breaths ( when had he started to break down? Just now? Months ago? Two years ago?)

“I’m never gone, ori’vod.” Thorn hums, reaching up to squeeze the back of his neck. It’s so cold, “Just marching—”

Far away.

The door to his office opens, and Fox jumps back.

“...You alright, Fox?” Stone stands at the entrance, a datapad in his hand.

Fox blinks, glancing down at the one in his own hands.

The list of troopers stares back, every name in red.

The Separatist Blockade was successfully broken through. Senator Padmé Amidala was safely extracted from Scipio under the command of Jedi General Anakin Skywalker and the 501st Legion.

No other Republic survivors were extracted. Recovery efforts have been approved and engaged.

— CT-4991 (Hawk)

“Fox?”

“...What is it?”

“The recovery mission on Scipio just returned. We’re heading to the crematorium right now.” Stone shifts on his feet, “you coming?”

“...Yeah.” Fox reaches for the helmet on his desk, red and black without any wings. His eyes feel crusty and swollen. At this point, he has no idea if they’re even open and seeing the right things anymore.

He’s so tired.

Fox slips the helmet on and stands. The world spins, and he bites his tongue hard enough to taste blood. He walks towards Stone.

“You sure you’re alright? I could have Thire take the next shift. He’s—” Stone’s breath hitches, “he’s up for promotion now anyway.”

“I’ll be fine,” Fox says as he passes his Second, stepping out into the hallway.

He’ll be fine.

[ao3] if you wish to drop a kudo/comment :)

#commanderfoxweek2021 #commander fox #tcw #star wars #sw mine

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palaceofpassion · 3 years

Text

Breaking Ren Ch. 2

Not for the light of hearted!

Warnings, forced feminization, spanking, mean spirited talk.

“MMMmmm♥ You’re amaaazing~” “Oooh Jaune~!♥”

“Mmmph~ Not Nearly as MMmph~ Amazing as you Pyr~”

CREEK CREEK CREEK

As the light of day peered into the room of team JNPR, two bodies rocked back and forth. Hands held together as their lips met one another. The leader knight and his beloved champion paused, their hearts filled with love and warmth as they peered into one another’s eyes.

With every consecutive thrust, every time their lips met little pecks here and there, his heart swooned. He really was lucky to have her, he’d make sure to never take her for granted.

Pyrrha watched the boy of her dreams, the one who hadn’t known who she was, the one that helped her belong and made her feel loved. There were few who understood just how wonderful he was, and honestly at this point? They were just missing out.

“Mmmm~ OooOH Jaune~ I’m so close♥” She felt his fingers lace and lock with hers, through his palms she felt his pulse, felt his breath, they were in sync as one.

“MMmm me too Pyr, I’m almost there~” The two continued to move, their hips bucking in rhythm with one another. Their bodies rocked and jerked in unison. Both of them felt the powerful burning sensation at the pit of their cores.

“OOoOOH!” Together they came, Pyr’s pussy quivered, her juices squirting from her core. Jaune’s cock twitched, pulsed and convulsed as his cum erupted. Both of them groaned as the felt their respective orgasms hit a fever pitch, relaxing as they finally came to a conclusion.

“I love you Jaune~ I love you so much~ You’ve brought me so much joy, more than any other person has ever done~ Because of you I’m not alone, I’m not someone's idol, I’m just yours.”

“Pyr~ I feel the same way, I owe you my life. You’ve been there for me, when no one else was, when I didn’t believe in myself you did. I love you so much.” Once more the two lovers pressed forward, their lips meeting, a passionate kiss was shared between them.

Only to be interrupted by the stifled sobs of the individual on the bed next to theirs. Nora had nearly broken down, her mouth gagged with Jaune’s used underwear, her arms bound by powerful dust controlled cuffs meant to hold her in place. She sobbed as she watched her teammates, two people she thought were friends, currently use the love of her life as if he was nothing but a toy.

Her eyes clenched tightly, the last week had been hell for her and Lian. While she did her best to hold on, Lian had almost completely stopped, he didn’t fight or struggle but he didn’t give into their demands. He simply used his semblance to mute himself. Even now he did his best to hold on, his anus filled with Jaune’s thick seed, a constant occurrence nowadays. His face was currently buried in Pyrrha’s ass, forced to pleasure her as she and Jaune shared an intimate moment.

“Nora… stay quiet, you’re ruining this…” Jaune turned to her, a part of him hurt, watching his normally bubbly teammate so down. But she had to learn, he needed to train her, and using Lian was the best way. “You just keep there, looking pretty okay? Enjoy my boxers, after all, it’s the only taste of a real man you’ll ever get.” He released a low hearty chuckle, followed by Pyrrha’s sweet giggle.

“It’s not all that bad Nora, Jaune’s got an excellent taste~” Her voice was low and husky, her eyes glancing back to her beloved who gave her an appreciative look.

Before they could get back to it, the alarm went off. Both eyes turned towards the Alarm, ah it was about time to get ready. “Right well… time this day started.”

“Awww~ Okay. You get a shower first okay?” Jaune smiled and nodded, pulling out of Lian.

PLOP

A thick glob of cum oozed out of his constant gaping ass, “Well I’ll go get Lian ready too then~ Someones gotta get him looking pretty for the day, and I’m obviously the prettiest one here~” Pyrrha rolled her eyes at her beloved’s sarcasm, though… he wasn’t wrong. Hopping off of their gasping toy she took the time to appreciate Lian’s new look. Apparently Jaune’s cum was something intense, Lian had somehow become even more feminine lately. His waist had slimed, his muscles had begun to diminish, and his face had become smoother, more round.

Pyrrha watched as Jaune tugged on Lian’s collar, pulling the leash they had gotten for specific in dorm use. They weren’t quite ready to make Lian’s treatment public just yet.

As the boys entered the bathroom; Pyrrha turned her attention to Nora. She moved towards her smaller friend, removing Jaune’s boxers. “There we go~”

“W...h...y?” Pyr watched as Nora began to sob, her eyes red from her fresh and old tears.

“Why what dear Nora?” Tilting her head she gave Nora a questioning look. “Why Lian’s being punished in your place?”

“He’s not Lian! He’s Ren! My Renny!” Pyrrha simply shook he head as she gently stroked the ginger’s hair.

“No, that’s not right Nora. You had your chance, Jaune gave you so many to just behave. But you spat on his good will. And well, Lian let you get away with everything, so as Jaune’s said, Lian had to be punished.”

The two paused as loud grunts and thumps started to go through the bathroom. “Oh my~ Jaune just can’t help himself, he’s got such vigor~♥”

“Whyyyyyy....” Nora struggled against her restraints, “I… I thought… I thought we were friends.” She felt gentle arms wrap around her, pulling her into a tight hug.

“Oh Nora~ Of course we’re friends~ Just now… now Lian’s our toy too. You have to understand, it’s her place, and she’ll be happy once she realizes that. Besides~ you two would have never worked out.”

Nora felt fear as Pyr continued to stroke her hair, where had the kind Pyrrha gone? Why were they doing this! She didn’t want them to treat her so badly, she missed her old team!

“Don’t worry~ I’m sure Jaune will let you join one day, you’ll be our pretty little toy too~ You’ll get to have his babies! Oh it’ll be so wonderful!~”

Fear seized Nora, she didn’t want that! She wanted Ren’s children!

“Come on, let’s get you ready~.” She felt a gentle kiss against her chee as Pyrrha stopped restraining her with her semblance. The old Nora would have jumped at the chance, but she was just so tired, she hadn’t been sleeping and she was mentally and emotionally exhausted.

She followed Pyrrha as the boys finally came into the dorm. Ren was once again dressed up in a girls uniform… one that they had made for him. It fit his new curves well, his hair was tied to the side again, and his slim face was far more appealing. Nora hated herself, she realized how good Ren looked as a lady. She glanced at Ren’s skirt, knowing full well that Ren was going commando, Jaune didn’t allow Ren to wear underwear in the case he needed a nice quickie.

Though… to her confusion she noticed jaune hadn’t been wearing clothes. His cock free and hard still, he watched as he grabbed Pyrrha and her by the hands pulling her in. “Hey Lian! We’ll be back in a while, going to show Nora what a man can do.” Fear, absolute fear filled her heart as she stared at Ren, whose face was filled with terror, and hurt. But she watched as he used his semblance to mute his emotions, he wasn’t going to help her…

Ren was doing his best! It’d been so hard since they started mistreating him, they’d been using him as their personal toy for all their twisted pleasures. He wasn’t even sure if they’d had sex yet and were just using him. He hadn’t given in, he wouldn’t, but as he watched Nora get dragged away, powerless to fight against his situation he felt his heart sink. No… they couldn’t take Nora from him, she was the last thing keeping him together. He felt his semblance activate automatically, a form of defense he’d been using recently. His heart broke as he watched her teary eyed expression.

The door closed with a loud thump, he felt fear in his hearts as loud moans filled the bathroom. Crawling to his bed he moved into a fetal position, he hadn’t broken yet and he definitely wouldn’t now. But he still felt hot tears flowing from his eyes.

Nora’s breathing became ragged, her pulse erratic and her skin began to crawl. She was currently pinned between Jaune and Pyrrha, both of which were much taller than her. Her face was buried between Pyr’s impressive bust. Though, what scared her was the thick rod that was currently resting in the cleft of her ass. She felt it pulse, heat radiating from the meaty shaft, panic filled her as she tried to cry only to realize there were no more tears.

“Don’t worry Nora~ You’ll love this.” She felt Jaune’s hands at her hips, his cock repositioning itself in the gap between her thighs. She felt his hips move.

“No please… please Jaune, I want Ren to be my first, pleeeease.”

“Now Nora~ You know Lian can’t give it to you, she’s just not big enough. But me?” She felt heat between her thighs, something was prodding at her entrance, her outer lips splitting apart. “Me I can give it to you, all of it.” She felt his voice, hot against her ear, he pulled back and her grip on Pyrrha tightened as she prepared herself.

Instead of something piercing her though, she felt the veiny rod slide across her quivering pussy. The head bumping and rubbing against her clit, shivers of pleasure and disgust went through her body.

“Mmm~ You feel so good Pyr~” She felt the two above her move, pressing her against them tighter as they began to kiss. They were using her but not using her, this was horrible. Was this how Ren felt?

She did her best to stifle her moans, but everytime Jaune quickened, his pace becoming rapid, she lost a little of her resistance. By the end she was moaning loudly, her body betraying her as she felt Pyrrha’s lips against her neck, biting down on her. Jaune’s hands had moved grabbing and plying at her ample bust.

Being the least experienced of the trio she orgasmed first, it so happened to be the strongest one she’d ever had. “MMMOOOOOOOOOH GAWWWWD!♥” Shame filled her body as she wailed loudly, but even then Jaune didn’t give up, his thrusts constantly sending pleasure through her body even as she went limp.

This continued for a few more minutes, she’d lost count as her mind blanked, she was so tired.

By the end of it, she was on her knees covered in Jaune’s thick seed, afraid that it’d scald her flesh. Her orange hair was covered in white, and her face was drenched in his scent. She hated it, she hated it so much! She wanted Renny, she wanted her Renny to hold her. This was absolutely awful. ♥

She felt Jaune draw closer to her, “Heh~ Don’t worry, I’ll let Lian take one thing from you at least.” Joy, that was good! Ya… they still cared right? She was just tired, but she wasn’t broken. She wouldn’t break, not ever, a defiant flame rising in her heart. She’d save her Renny, and they’d be away from these two monsters.

She felt their hands all over her body as they washed her, toyed with her, prepared her for the day.

As the trio came out of the shower Jaune watched Ren bowled over on Nora’s bed, his body was completely grey, obviously from his semblance use.

Making his way over, Jaune raised his hand, giving it a good SLAP , this caused Lian to come to attention.

Ren’s eyes glanced over to Nora, his fears seemingly confirmed as he noticed how exhausted she was. So they did it… they’d taken Nora’s first. He felt another part of him crumble.

“Alright, enough moping, come on let’s get going.” He felt Jaune pull on him, forcing him to his feat. He followed mutely behind Jaune, though he noticed Pyrrha specifically kept him away from Nora.

As the four members of JNPR began to exit the dorm, they ran into the members of RWBY. Ruby had been having trouble keeping the rest of her pets under control, Weiss, Yang and Blake had all become more defiant, and it was obvious she was tired.

“Hey Rubes, you alright?” He could hear the sounds of faint buzzing, at least they hadn’t rioted just yet, but it looked like she could use some help.

“Yeah, just tired, these three are such a pain to handle.” Ruby paused as she stared back to Jaune, “Hey Jaune?”

“Ya Rubes?”

Jaune noticed Ruby’s hands which began to twirl around one another, “Can you… can you help me train them?”

Jaune cocked an eye as he looked at his meek friend, he noticed the dash of red on her cheeks. Pyrrha noticed it as well, a grin on her face as she elbowed her lover. “Ya, ya we’ll help you. Might as well get our pets tamed right.”

“Tamed?! Pets?! You indignant bastard, what do you think we are!?” Jaune didn’t say anything instead turning to Ruby, even as Blake drew closer, he noticed the scowls that on Weiss and Yang as well.

Turning to Ruby he patiently asked, “Ruby? Do I have permission to discipline your pets?”

“PETS YOU BA…”

Blake was cut off by Ruby’s fervent nodding. “Yes please! They’re so terrible!”

The remaining members of team RWBY looked at their leader, shock apparent in their eyes.

“Like this idiot could even…” Weiss was quickly silenced however.

SLAP SLAP

Both her and Blake stared at Jaune, each holding onto a different cheek. “Both of you will be QUIET! Do you understand me?”

Yang was about to say something, step forward when she felt the vibrator in her pussy strengthen. Pyrrha had felt it earlier, their little toys had been made of metal, something Ruby had probably done intentionally as she was currently smiling at Pyrrha. “UHHGGGG YOU BASAAASTARD!”

Jaune made haste, grabbing Yang by the hair and pulling her close, “You will be quiet, do you understand me?” If he had been paying attention to his beloved and his red headed friend, he would have noticed their faces turning crimson at his domineering tone.

“Let me Go you BASTARD!” She was about to strike him when she was suddenly pulled into an Armlock, Pyrrha had moved already pinning Yang to the ground, applying pressure to her back. “OW OW OW STOP PLEAsE!” Aura was great, but it wasn’t so great when it came to being held.

As for Blake, she’d barely been coming through from her shock, though that ended once she felt Jaune’s hands against her ears, her faunus ones. Fear filled her chest as the ribbon that hid her ears was stripped off. “You… you will show your real ears, you’re just a pet, not a person.” She was about to say something else when she heard a click. Turning to Ruby, she had noticed she was recording this.

“Ru...ruby?”

“Sorry Blake, but you’ve caused us the most trouble, you need this. Now be a good girl.” Blake was about to say something else when she felt Jaune’s hands at her waist, underneath her skirt. Pulling down she felt him strip her panties off, with a tug he simply tore them from her posh rear.

“Pet’s don’t need their underwear. Pyr?”

“Yes?”

“Take Yang’s.” Yang began to panic as Pyrrha wasted no time tearing her pure white panties from her plump bottom.

Blake was about to pounce on Jaune once more when she felt the vibrator’s power increase, turning to Ruby she saw her with the remote in hand. Strength left her as she used the wall to balance herself, before she could compose herself once more.

SLAP SLAP SLAP SLAP

She felt four powerful slaps across her bare ass, “AYEEEE!” They were hard and painful, strong enough to draw tears from her eyes.

“You, will, listen.” She whimpered softly as she nodded her head. Jaune pocketed both her panties and the ribbon.

Turning to Weiss he saw her freeze, before he could do anything she gave up. She’d never been hit before, and honestly she had mixed feelings. On one hand it hurt, on the other though… “I’ll… I’ll get them myself.”

Jaune watched as she slipped her panties off, a pleasant white color. Weiss flinched as Jaune’s hand came close to her face again. “Good girl…” She felt his hand rub against her cheek, scratching her gently. She nodded.

“Well we have to go to class, I doubt this will keep them calm, but when everything’s done with the day we’ll get to training our pets okay Ruby?”

Rubbing a streak of red from her nose she nodded. “Good let’s get going.”

And the group followed behind, Jaune, Ruby, and Pyrrha leading the way. Weiss, Ren, and Nora just behind them, and Blake and Yang behind them. Only four people seemed to be in a semi good mood that morning.

Glynda smiled as she watched her students pile out of her class. After her previous talk with Mr. Arc and Ms. Rose, their teams have been rather well behaved. With that said, she wasn’t blind, she’d seen the changes in their teams demeanor. From Miss Nikos sparklingly face, to Miss Valkyries downcast demeanor. The way that Xiaolong and Belladonna seemed unable to stay still, to Schnee’s oddly pleasant look. Though, what caught her attention was Ren’s change in clothing and continence. She hadn’t been the only one to notice, as she’d seen several boys, and even some girls eyeing the young man. Well young woman it seemed, she wasn’t one to judge. Though, she had a feeling that the change hadn’t been one of their own choosing.

She watched as the leaders of both teams seemed to hold themselves a little higher, their teams muting whenever they received their glances. A small smile touched her lips, so they had taken her talk about discipline seriously.

As the day came to end she noticed only Rose, Xiaolong, Arc, and Valkyrie stayed.

“You two know what to say.” It was Arc who spoke these words.

Glynda watched as Xiaolong and Valkyrie approached her, Xiaolong seemed angry but muted. Whereas Valkyrie seemed emotionally tired.

“We’re Sorry Ma’am.” Oooh~ This was pleasant.

“I see… well so long as you learned your lesson.” Both girls nodded and waited.

“Alright! Let’s get going!” Ms Rose was the one to take command this time, the two girls nodded and followed her out.

“Actually~ Mr. Arc, Ms. Rose can you stay behind?” Both students stared at each other in confusion, though they relented and sent their teammates on ahead.

“I’ve noticed the change in your teammates. Don’t think I don’t know what’s going on.”

She watched as her young pupils froze, fear obvious in their face.

“Now now, I’m not going to scold you, in fact. Good job.”

“E...excuse me?” It was Mr. Arc who broke the silence.

“You’re doing exactly what needs to be done, both of you have done praise worthy work. Though… it seems that you’re still ‘training’ your teammates.”

Once again the students paused, Rose was the one that answered next.

“Yes… ma’am… Jaune’s going to help me ‘discipline’ my team a bit more. They’re still a little unruly.”

Glynda nodded, she knew how difficult it must be for the younger girl to keep her team under control. With a smile she pulled out a receipt.

“Here you go, this is for both of you. I noticed the changes early on but I wanted to make sure first. This is from a special shop of mine, consider it a gift for outstanding leadership.” Both students looked at the tag, it was for a domination shop in Vale, TIED A KNOT .

“Ma’am?” Both students looked at the professor.

“These… things happen from time to time. Professors tend to give gifts to their favored students.” She smiled as she made her way back to her desk.

“The expenses have been covered, you just need to pick up the products~”

Both students nodded as they made their way out.

Jaune didn’t know how to feel right now, he had expected to be scolded, to be shamed, but instead their professor had given them the okay. Apparently their hands off approach extended even this far. Turning to Ruby he saw the girl practically vibrating, a smile on her face. Instinctively he placed a hand on her head, giving her a gentle pet. He felt her lean into his touch, a smile on her face.

“This is so exciting Jaune!” He agreed.

“Yeah… yeah it is. My team will go and get the supplies, do you mind bringing your team to our dorm? Get them ready?”

“Sounds good!” He watched as the read reaper burst into a flurry of petals, grabbing her three teammates on the way out.

“What was that about?” Smiling at his beloved he held the receipt out, grasping it Pyrrha let out a small gasp.

“Seems we have permission.” Placing his hands behind his back he began to walk out, “We should get going, no need to change our uniforms will do just fine.”

Pyrrha frantically nodded as she began to practically skip after him. Without a word both Nora and Lian followed. Lian was forced to stand on Jaune’s right, while Nora was on Pyrrha’s left hand.

“I suppose~ We’ll be making this official soon.” Jaune’s hand slipped past Lian’s skirt, lifting it so he could give her a good squeeze. He felt Lian flinch under his touch, his cock twitched in his pants.

Strange things had been happening recently, Velvet had noticed a change in her friends from the year below. She’d seen Jaune and Pyrrha become closer, finally they’d gotten that across it seemed. But she’d seen the change in their teammates, Ren had started to dress like a girl, and Nora wasn’t as peppy. She wasn’t sure what was going on but something had to be, though there was another thing. As a Faunus she had a heightened sense of smell. And lately she's been smelling something addictive coming from the four. Specifically from Jaune, Ren, and Pyrrha, rather she could smell Jaune on both his teammates. She’d seen the way he seemed to take complete control of Ren, how he was holding and domineering him.

She wasn’t sure what it was, but it was exciting, and she wanted to know more. Her eyes trailed downwards as Jaune’s hand moved to Ren’s lower section, she almost gasped in surprise when she realized the other boy wasn’t wearing any underwear. Even more so when she noticed Jaune squeezing, his finger sliding in between the cleft of Ren’s ass.

Continuing her spying she found them at a well known Bondage shop, TIED A KNOT. This confused her, but she continued to watch, unnoticed so far. As they left the store she pursued once more, finally stopping when they took a detour down a dark alleyway. Silently she followed, her ears picking up on movement, muffled voices, and something else.

“Shit~ You’re so tight Lian, you wanted this didn’t you?” Vel felt a million emotions at once, fear, lust, jealousy, arousal, but more importantly, the urge to join in. Before her eyes Jaune Arc the dorky leader of JNPR, was currently smashing into Lie Ren’s ass, the rather pretty boy who no longer looked like a boy. No she saw a woman, nay a slut, one that was currently pinned against the brick wall of a building, their ass sticking out. She watched as Jaune’s pe… no his massive cock! Slammed in and out of Ren… no Lian’s plump ass. Their bodies bucking back and forth in sync. Her eyes gazed away briefly, Pyrrha was recording everything, a smile on her face, her tongue flicking between her lips from time to time.

She wasn’t sure where Nora was, at least not at first. Glancing back at the boys, she noticed Nora below Lian, Jaune’s hands were actually on her hips holding her close as he continued to thrust into what was once her boyfriend. She could hear her soft sobs, as if she’d lot something precious.

Normally Vel should have stopped this, she should have gone in there and made sure that none of this happened. But there was a part of her who watched this in awe, she felt desires she’d never experienced before, ones that were lightning an unknown flame in her belly. Before anyone would notice her she left, her direction back to TIED A KNOT.

Ren felt humiliation, he did his best not to show it, not to give them satisfaction. But even with his semblance it was hard to ignore the looks he was getting. He knew why though, he could feel it too, every step he took more would slide down his legs. Jaune’s semen which dripped from his ass had started to leak out as they made their way back to the dorm.

He felt even worse when he realized he couldn’t see Nora’s expression, was she ashamed of him? He wasn’t sure, but he knew that things weren’t going to end any time soon.

When the team got to their dorm they found Ruby already waiting outside, her teammates nowhere to be found. “There you guys are!” Dashing towards them she stopped just ahead of Jaune, handing his scroll back to him.

“Thanks for letting me borrow this!”

“No problem Rubes. I’m assuming the girls are inside?”

“Yep!”

“Alright let’s get going.” Pushing open the door he smiled at what awaited them. All three girls were currently stripped of their clothes, bound and gagged with their own underwear it seemed. “Nice touch on the gag.”

“Thanks! I figured they wouldn’t be needing them anymore so might as well make use of it.

“Ooh! That’s creative Ruby.” The red heads stared at each other, giving one another a warm smile.

As everyone filed into the room Jaune began to strip, EVERYONE’S attention was drawn to him. Even those that had already seen him nude before. He’d grown a lot since coming to beacon, not quite on the level of Sun, but he had muscles that begot his loose clothing. Then there was the other thing, the other members of JNPR had seen it before, but for RWBY? This was a first, different emotions went through the girls. Yang was one of unbelief, Blake was one of an odd sense of fear, Weiss while unsure of herself felt something she couldn’t quite touch on, Ruby? Ruby felt an intense thirst enter her body, she wanted some of that.

“Right then, let’s get started. Lian, strip.” All eyes turned to Lian, who did their best not to look at anyone. Slowly she took off her clothes, revealing that she too wasn’t wearing underwear. But to the surprise of the members of RWBY, he also wore a small cock cage, one made by Pyrrha.

The girls felt pity for him, but that didn’t last long as they realized similar fate’s would befall them.

Jaune grabbed the bags from Nora, tossing them onto his bed he began to fish through them. 5 collars were retrieved, each with a tag, and different animal symbols. A mix between cats and dogs, “These are gifts from Goodwitch. From now on you five are officially recognized as our pet’s and bitches.”

Blake tried to interject again, but her underwear prevented her from doing so. Jaune simply turned to her and grabbed her by the hair dragging her to Nora’s bed. Even as she struggled she couldn’t find the strength to fully fight back. “Ruby.”

“Yes?” She asked, her face red and excited. “I’m going to start with this little bitch. Is that okay?”

Ruby nodded enthusiastically, she failed to see the sorrow in Yang’s eyes.

Removing the gag from Blakes Mouth he pinned her to the bed. “YOU FUCKING BASTARD!” SLAP Once more he struck her face.

“I told you to shut up Blake.”

She still held her defiant look, “YOU BASTARD WHO CARES! I’M NOT A FUCKING ANIMAL! DON’T YOU DARE PUT TH…” SLAP SLAP

“I don’t like using violence, I hate it even, I won’t punch you, but you need discipline.” Turning to Ruby he smiled, “Ruby can you hold her down for me?”

The younger girl nodded eagerly. In a flash she was sitting on top of Blake who struggled under the weight unable to breath.

“See, it wasn’t just these collars, no~ Goodwitch ordered us some more.” From the bag he pulled two things, one was an anal plug with a black cat tail. “This one was for Blake apparently.” The second item? It was a studded paddle, “And this is for anyone who misbehaves, I suppose Blake gets to test both those out.

Blake couldn’t see what was going on, she could barely breathe, but she wouldn’t let these bastards do what they wanted! She wasn’t an animal, he was a proud Faunus, not some… some human bitch! Before she could really get defiant though she felt Ruby hop off of her. Her eyes widened as she saw Jaune with the paddle in hand.

“Here you go Ruby~” He handled the paddle to Ruby, her eyes practically going.

“Can… can I really go first?”

“Of course! She’s yours after all~” It was Pyrrha who spoke up.

“Ruby… please no?” She couldn’t believe how excited her teammate was.

“Sorry Blake, but you’ve been a bad girl. And you need to be punished.” A chill fell down her spine, in a flurry she tried to get up and run, but she was grabbed by Jaune. She felt his hands on her shoulders. In a flash she soon found herself face first on the bed, a hand held onto the back of her head.

“Alright Ruby, give her a few good swings.”

A few good swings meant way more than just that. Blake’s eyes clenched as she felt the paddle hit her ass.

SMACK

It wasn’t once or twice, it was over and over. Blake lost count, her mind numbing from the pain she was going through, her ass red and on fire from being hit over and over. She blanked out not too long after.

“Well shit… she couldn't even last five minutes.” It was Pyrrha, a sinister smile upon her lips.

Ruby smiled, attaching the black collar with a cat’s paw onto Blake’s unmoving body.

Yang was at a total loss! What was going on?! WHY WAS HER SISTER DOING THIS! WHY WAS PYRRHA?! WHY?! She felt her heart shatter when Blake stopped moving. She didn’t want them to do this to her, no please make it stop. She wanted to shout and yell, but before she could she was interrupted.

“Master, mistresses?” All eyes, including Jaune, Ruby’s, and Pyrrha’s all fell upon Weiss in shock.

“Weiss?” It was Ruby who spoke first, surprised the heiress had managed to remove the gag on her own.

“I’ve… I’ve been a bad girl, can you… can you please discipline me?” Well now that was surprising.

“Yes.” It was Jaune who spoke first. “Yes we can… though seeing as you’re being a good girl.” He paused and brought Pyrrha down on the bed, having her sit. “You’ll get the honor of having Pyrrha spank you with her bare hand.”

Weiss' eyes lit up, she was getting special treatment! “Yes please! But… but can you spank me later too?” Her eyes were needy, hungry, so much so Jaune couldn’t help but smile.

“Sure, so long as you keep being a good pet okay?” She nodded slowly.

Yang couldn’t believe her ears, this wasn’t the same Weiss she knew!

Weiss made her way over to Pyrrha, who couldn’t contain her joy, there was more to just being a dom in this situation. Pyrrha hated Weiss, she hated her so much. Not just because she had held Jaune’s attention for so long, no it was more than that. She hated the way that she used her position to leverage and berate Jaune when they first met. She hated how she often used her own position to trample on those she thought ‘lower’ than her. Then there was the way that she tried to use Pyrrha early on, she’d heard the whispers after that, that they could end up as a power couple. Her and Weiss? Yeah right, she’d rather be incinerated than let that happen.

As she felt the flat girl below her she couldn’t help but feel excitement, “You know Weiss~ I hate you.”

SLAP!

Pyrrha’s hand came down upon Weiss’ smooth pale bottom. “I hated how you treated Jaune!”

SLAP!

A soft whimper escaped Weiss lips as tears formed at the edges of her eyes. “I HATED HOW HE LOOKED AT YOU!” Jaune felt guilt at this one, he really was an idiot.

SLAP!

More tears formed, Weiss ass began to turn red. “I HATED THE WAY YOU LORDED MY POSITION, NOT YOURS OVER HIM WHEN WE MET!”

SLAP!

Her slaps became heavier, faster, stronger. “I HATED THE WAY YOU TRIED TO USE ME! YET HAD THE GAL TO THINK HE WAS DOING THE SAME, YOU LITTLE HYPOCRITICAL BITCH!”

SLAP “I’M” SLAP “I’M SO” SLAP “SORRRRRY!” SLAP “I’VE BEEN A BITCH!” SLAP!

“That you have Weiss, but that’s okay, cause now you’re our good little pet, our little bitch, isn’t that right?”

Weiss shivered at Pyrrha’s soft touch, the way she rubbed her reddened rump. “Yes… yesss I have mistress, I’ll be good~”

“Good girl~” Slowly Pyrrha pulled Weiss back, planting a gentle kiss on her lips. Her eyes glanced towards Jaune’s twitching cock. “I see someone liked that~”

“Shit that was hot… how could I not?”

Giggling Pyrrha began to gently lay Weiss down on the bed. “You’ll get your chance to have fun with her too, but she’s still new at this and pretty tired I think.” Weiss though exhausted had a rather stupid smile on her face. Pyrrha slipped her collar on, one with a small fox paw.

“Now then… your turn, you stupid cow.” It was Jaune, grabbing onto Yang’s hair he flopped her onto his bed, back against the sheets. He saw the panic in her eyes, she wasn’t defiant any longer. For people like Yang hitting her friends was the best method of breaking her. Slowly his hands traisted her toned belly, his fingers slipping up to her breasts. His fingers pinched and twisted her perky nipples, “You’re just a huge slut aren’t you? Look at these milk bags, you’re only as good as a milk cow you know that?”

Yang wanted to fight, but she was so scared, fear had gripped her heart and the once brave girls were gone. “Glynda got us some toys for you too~” She felt Jaune move, the sound of a paper bag ruffled. She watched as he pulled out what appeared to be two rings, with small weights dragging off of them. But then it hit her, those rings had needles.

“Noooo” She muffled through her gag, fear starting to reach every bit of her.

“Pyr, Rubes?”

“Yes~” Both answered in a singsong voice.

“Hold the cow down for me please.”

“Of course!”

“Yes!”

Yang felt her body held down from her sides. The air was soon knocked out of her lungs as she felt Jaune sit on top of her chest, his entire weight upon her body. She flinched, a heavy thick musk filled her nose. His massive cock lay just below her chin, resting between her breasts. She had already thought it was huge before, but now? Now it was terrifying, if that entered her, it’d break her… maybe that wasn’t so bad? Maybe… maybe she didn’t need Blake?

“Now… this is going to hurt.” Her attention snapped back to him, but she couldn't find his hands. Then it happened, an intense and sharp pain shot through her right breast, unable to clearly see she still knew what happened. The needle pierced her nipple droplets of blood slid down her breast. “There we go~”

She squirmed under his weight unable to move, though a heat formed in her core, her pussy began to moisten.

She struggled under his touch, feeling him pull on the ring once it was in place. “Mmm~♥” She hadn’t meant to moan into her panties, but it happened.

“Wow… what a freaking slut.” It was Ruby, Ruby! “I can’t believe we’re related… Bet you’re mom was the same way.” Yang wanted to cry, but she wasn’t given the chance as her other nipple was pierced, once more pain and now pleasure burned through her body. She nearly blanked out like Blake had, once more Jaune pulled.

“Now don't be that way Ruby~ You can’t fight your blood sometimes, let Yang be a slut, it’s all good.” She felt his breath near her ear, “Don’t worry though~ I’ll be your daddy.” Her heart thumped in her chest, he did remind her of her dad… Why did she think that?! “You won’t be needing Blake anymore.”

Panic filled her chest, but then she felt him pull on her rings, pain filling her body, she blanked out as she began to pee in fear and pain.

The trio got off of the broken mess of a girl, turning back to Nora and Ren, Nora by this point had stripped as she felt they’d want her to. They had done almost nothing to her, not in comparison to the others.

“Now then you two…” He paused smiling, however, he was interrupted at a knock on the door. “Huh… put a pin on that.” Slowly he opened the door, on his face peering through, it was Velvet who seemed oddly anxious.

“Hey Vel. Whats up?” Velvet could smell sweat and fluids from her side, oh god did she come at a good time?!

“Uhm… uhm. Hey Jaune.” She smiled at him, Velvet was definitely cute, “I… can I join?”

“J...Join?” Before he could ask more, he was presented with a collar, a brown one with a bunny rabbit on it. A smile began to cross his face.

“Please?”

“Yes… yes you can.” Opening the door wide, Velvet couldn’t contain her excitement, a huge smile on her face as she looked at the stunned faces of Ren and Nora, or the broken bodies of WBY. Her tongue slipped past her lips as she walked in. “Welcome my dear bunny.”

“Thank you master~” Jaune closed the door behind them.

The night was going to be so much fun~ Good thing he had the camera set up in his room, it’d make recording all of this so much easier. As Velvet walked towards the bed he gave her ass a good firm slap, squeezing her tight rear, his fingers slipping through her underwear.

“Mmm~♥” Her cheeks flushed red, his cock twitched in excitement, though he wasn’t the only one. He watched Pyrrha and Ruby eyed Velvet, lust and hunger obvious in their countenance. He wasn’t the only one looking forward to the next few hours.

#Lie Ren #Pyrrha Nikos #Nora Valkyrie #Jaune Arc #Ruby Rose #Weiss Schnee #Yang Xiao Long #Blake Belladonna

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hannibalismos-jaaneman · 2 years

Note

I FINALLY FOUND THE TIME I AM SO SORRY FOR BEING SO LATE, RI.

P.S. Now y’all will know HOW to judge a book by its cover, because ik everyone judges a book by its cover

Overall:

Large handwriting- does not hesitate in occupying space, extroverted, sociable, friendly

Large middle zone- student, active social life

Extreme forward slant- overly optimistic, struggles with other people’s personal boundaries

Large third zone- materialistic, can be a bit too greedy for their own good

Compressed- less breathing space for letters- indicates closeness to people and family (i wonder if these people are overly burdensome)- pressurized

Ruler straight baseline- prone to outburst- will lash out- pressurized-

Large first zone- imaginative, thinks a lot, theoretical/philosophical convos are way to go

High/uneven pressure overall (although i believe you were writing with a ballpoint hence the breaks/jerks but imma analyze that too)- considering the ballpoint- energetic, can be aggressive, intense. not considering the ballpoint- emotionally untethered/ ungrounded, erratic (health issues too?)

slow / deliberate pacing- pays attention/ determination/ care

Margins- large on both sides- meaning- dwells on the past AND worries about the future

Legible- does not face trouble in communicating thoughts

Cursive- likes flashy stuff OR is culture OR kinda natural that you were taught to write this way so… yeah

Semi particulars-

Loopy handwriting- signs of lying/deception

Connected, pointy/round letters- imaginative AND intelligent (logical too)

Big capitals- vanity

Letter specifics-

Long and high t-bars- puts a lot of energy into work, high self-esteem

Running i dots- ahead of yourself, no mind-body syncopation

Rounded w bottom- poetic, friendly, sympathetic

Closed off o’s and a’s- cautious, doesn’t trust people

Figure ‘8’ g- ability to adapt, rapidity of thought, literary tastes, intellectual flexibility, fine intuition and instinct, innate understanding and gentleness, philosophy and sense of humor

Pointed r- probing mind

Heavy on the downstrokes in third zone but comes up light- enters into materialistic things with full vigor but loses interest half way

Conclusion- a very intelligent and cautious person who likes to lie (probably for fun or being silly, i don't think it's too severe tho), extraverted, friendly, has vanity, adaptable, imaginative, cultured (probably has a lot of controversial opinions), quick-thinking, witty, philosophical when wants to be, curious to some extent. lives a pretty pressured life (fam pressure i suppose), sets high goals and bars (not TOO goal-oriented tho, probs procrastinates but that's an assumption completely off of my own curiosity).

that's pretty much it! and no more graphology stuff till after 10th of March 'cause i got exams.

P.S. if Ri allows, i would want people to comment on what they personally thought about the handwriting from the first glance, not from a scientific perspective like mine but just from a common eye.

#ri<3 #my asks #asks #graphology asks #graphology #mutuals asks

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jaeheewillalwaysbemyfav · 4 years

Text

Obey Me: The Brothers Accidentally Trigger an Abused MC: Satan (4/7)

Disclaimer: I’m not an expert on abuse or mental health. I’m not portraying how one should respond to these situations, only how I think the characters might. Abuse and trauma in particular are very complex topics, and people respond in all sorts of ways to them, and sometimes it gets really bad on all sides.

I can only draw from my personal experiences as well as those of people who have shared their stories or who I’m close with. There’s no one narrative of abuse and how it affects someone, so what I’m familiar with might not be what you’re familiar with. Let’s try and all be respectful of each other.

Content Warnings: Heated arguments, reference to past abuse, parental abuse, trauma response, breaking down in tears, this is quintessential hurt/comfort y’all, buckle up

It’s Satan’s turn! The fun thing about Satan is he’s super in control of himself until he absolutely isn’t, and then it’s terrible for everyone involved.

Lucifer (X), Mammon (X), Leviathan (X), Satan (you are here), Asmodeus (X), Beelzebub (X), Belphegor (X)

That one there is Satan, the fourth eldest of us. At first glance, he may seem like a responsible demon with a good head on his shoulders, but looks can be deceiving. [...] He may flash you a pretty smile like that, but you had better be careful because it is all an act.

MC had been warned about the Avatar of Wrath the day they arrived in the Devildom. While his brothers wear their sins on their sleeves, Satan keeps his almost entirely under wraps. His anger comes out like steam from the edges of the lid covering a boiling pot, hissing quiet but heated remarks, only exploding into something more dangerous if disturbed.

But as they spent more time with him, MC found it harder and harder to associate Lucifer’s warning with the demon in front of them. Yes, Satan could be prickly if provoked, and he certainly has a fair share of issues to work through, but he wears soft sweaters, and reads trashy romance novels he hides under the jackets of more sophisticated looking nonfiction titles, and would turn the House of Lamentation into a cat shelter if left unsupervised. And so that warning became as serious to them as Mammon’s pitiful mugging attempt when they first met all those months ago.

An easy mistake.

As it’s so unusual for Satan to express his anger in an obvious manner, MC is very concerned when they see him storm off to his room surrounded by the flaming aura of barely-contained magic. They chase after him without thinking, wanting to comfort their friend.

Satan’s room contains more than a room of its apparent size should. A small tower bedroom should not be able to hold the sprawling library it does, but the looming bookshelves stretch far into the darkness nonetheless. Despite this, the books still spill out from the shelves and form piles all over the room and even circle overhead in lazy loops. Though today, their master’s wrath propels them faster and faster, moving more erratically and occasionally crashing into furniture when they fall too low.

MC forgets to knock.

Satan’s head whips around, eyes blazing.

The books move before he registers who’s standing in the doorway.

Years of practice throws their body low to the ground to avoid the projectiles, but he has more, he has more and he’s still mad, mad at me mad at me my fault my fault still more still more don’t move don’t move-

Footsteps, a voice, he’s yelling, he’s yelling, yelling at me I did it again no no no-

A hand reaches out to them.

“PLEASE DON’T-!” their scream rips out of their throat and Satan freezes.

MC’s eyes shine with tears, open wide and-

Staring.

At.

Him.

Like a monster.

Satan’s tail wraps around his leg tight enough to draw blood. “Well? What are you going to do, MC? Leave? Run away from the monster?”

They’re shaking, but can’t move from their position on the floor. “GO ALREADY! Or a couple of measly books will be the least of your problems!”

They scramble to their feet, barely upright as they half sprint, half tumble down the stairs.

A loud THUD echoes through the House of Lamentation as, for the first time in countless years, all of the books in Satan’s room fall to the floor, lifeless.

Until they burst into flames, and the spire hosting the Avatar of Wrath’s bedroom ignites in the roar of a viridian inferno.

It takes the careful spellwork of Lucifer, aided by a frantic Leviathan, to keep the fires sequestered to Satan’s tower. Even still, seeing the entire structure ablaze like that is terrifying for MC, both because of its unprecedented scale and the knowledge of who is causing it.

The brothers, minus Satan, congregate outside the House of Lamentation in a semi circle of annoyance. Levi, Asmo, and Mammon quickly get into an argument about whose personal items are more valuable and worth saving in the event of a house-wide fire, while the twins grouse about being pulled away from their very important activities of raiding the fridge and napping, respectively.

Both Lucifer and MC are not listening to them, for very different reasons. Their gazes are fixed on the burning tower, Lucifer a cool mask of stoicism and MC vacant and nearly unblinking. They stay like this for a long moment, as the bickering of the others settles into a hum of white noise.

“MC.” They start upon hearing Lucifer’s voice.

“You saw him just before this.”

A fit of blinking, ending with a sniff and a nod.

“I-I didn’t mean to- He looked so ups-set, I just…”

“Stop.” They freeze as Lucifer lowers himself to their eye level. He holds out his hand towards their shoulder and then pulls it back, thinking better of it. “I am not blaming you. Satan’s lack of self control is not your fault.

“What concerns me right now is your wellbeing.”

“O-Oh. Well, it was pretty startling, but I wasn’t burned or anyth-”

“What did he say to you that prompted such a strong response?” Silence. “This,” Lucifer gestures broadly to MC, “is not because of the fire. Something happened before, that upset the both of you. What was it?”

“SAAATAAAAAAAAAAN!”

Oh, that’s just who he needs to deal with right now.

A couple of choice curses flicker through Satan’s mind as he continues to sort through his books, cataloguing which ones were completely destroyed by the fire and which were unscathed or can be salvaged. He pulls out a charred book from a pile of ashes and dusts off the partially melted cover. It’s barely identifiable, but…

One of MC’s recommendations, a murder-mysterty from the human world.

He drops it like it was still burning.

Lucifer navigates through the scorched shelves and piles of wreckage until he finds his brother, curled in on himself in a crouched position and shaking, surrounded by the remains of the knowledge he holds so dear.

His lecture dies in his throat.

“Satan-” The demon in question cuts him off.

“Get it over with.”

Lucifer says nothing.

“Go ahead!” Satan’s voice wavers as he speaks, unfolding from his pose just enough to challenge his brother. “Let me have it: I’ve tarnished Lord Diavolo’s oh-so-sacred reputation, I’ve ruined the exchange program, I have no self control, I-” He compresses back into himself. “I’ve terrified MC and they never want to speak to me again.”

“No,” Lucifer says. “For one, I think you understand well enough the consequences of your actions this time.”

When this provokes no response, he continues, “...and MC does want to speak with you.”

The expression on Satan’s face when his head snaps up to make eye contact with Lucifer reminds him of when the Avatar of Wrath was first born, all raw emotion and alert, untrusting eyes.

The conversation is painful, but very much needed. After hearing MC’s story, Satan is almost glad he just burned through the majority of his energy in that fire, as if he had even an ounce of it, he would dedicate it to tracking down and slaughtering MC’s loathsome parents. But for them, he pushes the feelings aside. For now.

He apologizes (many times) in words, but even after MC repeatedly tells him it’s okay and they understand, he doesn’t quite stop. His apologies manifest in actions instead: soft, concerned glances in MC’s direction when his brothers get into a spat; an outstretched hand and an offer to go on a walk when they’re feeling overwhelmed; book recommendations with recurring themes of overcoming trauma and not necessarily forgiving those who abused you.

He also adds something new to his room: a little enchanted tablet by the doorway displaying an unusual “weather” report. Thanks to special sensors placed throughout Satan’s room, the tablet can pick up the level of magical activity in the area and display an appropriate warning. Since he knows how volatile he can be when in an especially bad mood, Satan explains that the monitor will say what he can’t. Since it also measures the velocity of the flying books, it doubles as a pretty good warning service for incoming projectiles as well, he adds sheepishly.

“I know how hard it can be to forgive someone who’s hurt you, even accidentally. I’m so grateful you’ve given me a second chance, MC, and I fully intend on never letting it go to waste.”

Lucifer doesn’t address the final part of Satan’s remark. He doesn’t need to. His silence says enough.

Satan has done it. He’s turned away the only person who ever saw him as a unique person. The worst case scenario, the unthinkable nightmare, realized.

He’s fine. More than fine. He throws himself into his studies, marks higher than ever. While his smiles have never reached his eyes, they barely appear on his face at all. His mask is a fragile apathy that quickly crumbles into irritation whenever someone notices it. With his mood more volatile than ever, even his brothers distance themselves, unsure of how to approach him. He only shows up during mealtimes, and barely at that.

Sometimes smoke drifts out from the tower his room is in. No one acknowledges this.

He respects MC’s wishes, gives them space and time aplenty. He can wait. He deserves to wait.

He deserves this.

#obey me #obey me! satan #obey me imagines #obey me: swd #obey me shall we date #mine #my writing #satan

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chaseatinydream · 3 years

Text

pirate king (9) || atz

You’re not dead.

That’s the only thought that drifts in your mind as you lie face up on the forecastle deck, eagle spread like a dead starfish. You watch the sun as it rises over the horizon absentmindedly, even as activity rages beneath you on the main deck.

The gun crews are busy cleaning out the cannons, preparing them for another battle as fast as possible. You don’t see Seonghwa, but you know he’s below decks, leading a team of pirates in checking up on the shot plugs that they used during battle to stop water from gushing in when the ship was hit by cannon fire. You would have been helping San treat the wounded, but one look at your blank, white face and he instructed you to calm down on the forecastle deck instead.

So that’s what you’re doing.

You watch white puffs of clouds drifting past in the clear blue sky. It’s so calm, so peaceful, you find it difficult to believe that you had just been in a sea battle the day before. Only the slight acrid smell of gunpowder that lingers in the air and the occasional holes in the ground from cannon fire reminds you that yesterday was nothing but a dream.

You could have died yesterday.

You’ve just come into this world, with no memories of your previous self, barely at the beginning of the road to recovering your past, so many questions still unanswered, and it could have all ended for you in that one battle.

The erratic beating of your heart pulls you out of your dazed panic.

You try to suck in deep breaths, forcing yourself to calm down as you grip the necklace under your shirt tightly. The cuts on your body from the splinters sting and you’re aching from the bruises, but you know other pirates had it far worse.

Then you remember what you did to Jongho’s arm and you wince.

“He’s going to kill me.” You groan, burying your face in your hands. Even after the battle had been won, the young battlemaster had given you a dark glare before storming off to clear the decks of the remaining soldiers.

“Who’s going to kill you?”

You jerk up in shock, spinning around only to see a dark shape dangling upside down from the foremast’s rigging like some sort of giant spider, scaring the living daylights out of you. You yelp in terror and jump back, your foot slipping straight into one of the holes caused by the enemy cannons.

“Ow!” A howl of pain leaves your lips as the sharp edges leave scratches on your calf.

“Woah, careful there!” The dark shape drops from the rigging and hurries over to help you out from your mess. It's Yunho, you realise, covered from head to toe in soot and to your horror, dried blood.

“Yunho-hyung, you need to get to Master San right away! You're going to bleed out-”

He laughs easily, waving your concern away. “No worries! It's not my blood! You should watch out for the holes in the deck till Seonghwa-hyung repairs them.”

You nod, eyes darkening slightly as they rake over the state of the ship. “The Treasure took quite a beating, didn’t she?”

The tall man eyes you curiously as he coils up the rope he was using earlier. “Maybe it’s because you’re new, but these kind of things are pretty common, actually. No worries, Hongjoong-hyung said we’re getting to Tortuga in little less than an hour. We’ll be docking there to finish repairs and replenish stocks.”

At that, you purse your lips. You’re going to reach Tortuga soon, the second time you’re stepping on land after having been on the sea for most of your life since your awakening. The last time didn’t exactly go well for you. “Won’t the Royal Navy be there?”

Yunho shakes his head as he plops next to you, grabbing a rag from his belt and wiping most of the dirt and grime from his face. “Aish, I really want a bath. No, Tortuga is a pirate stronghold, actually. The Royal Navy has little to no power there, so we should be safe… If we pay the town enough money, that is.”

You snort at his last sentence as you lie back on the deck again. The sun is turning the entire sky a beautiful shade of pink-orange, and you turn to see Yunho’s face bathed in the same lovely colour.

He grins at you. “So, who’s going to kill you?”

At that, you shrink into yourself, a little sheepish. You thought you’d distracted him, but it evidently hadn’t worked. “Ah… Well, I was supposed to get to the sickbay during the fight yesterday but I got thrown to the midship area… and Jongho-hyung rescued me.”

Yunho nods proudly, a wide grin curving on his lips as he takes a seat beside you. “Of course he did. He’s a great fighter and he has strong protective instincts. You’re probably safer with him than in the sickbay.”

You wince. “Yeah… But during the battle, I accidentally misfired the musket and killed a soldier fighting with Jongho-hyung-”

The lookout’s eyes go wide with surprise. “So you saved Jongho? That’s amazing!”

“No no no-” You try to protest, but then someone coughs politely behind the two of you.

Both you and Yunho sit up to look at your visitor, only to see the ship’s resident healer standing there.

“Master!” You greet him cheerfully and he nods, studying you carefully for a second.

“Don’t you have work to get to, Yunho-ah?” San says over his shoulder as he checks your complexion and your pulse point for any erratic beating. The lookout pouts adorably, but can’t keep the grin off his face for long.

“Killjoy.” He laughs, before turning back to the foremast. “Catch you later, stowaway.”

San snorts as he watches Yunho go, scaling the rigging easily like a spider does its web. “And not a kind word to me.” Then he turns to you, expression blank as usual but you can read the care in his eyes. “You seem better now, apprentice. I want you to come with me to check an injury for a moment.”

“Ok.” You agree immediately, trailing after him to the sickbay. After the fight yesterday, you’ve realised that you need to acquire as many useful skills as you possibly can so you won’t be a burden to your ship mates during battles. And honestly, healing seems to be the most useful thing you could do for now.

San’s nimble fingers open the latch with ease and the two of you descend to the sickbay. Then you see who it is sitting at the table and you want to run for your life.

It’s Jongho.

You do a complete turn and make to escape before the young battlemaster can notice you, but San grabs you by the arm and hauls you into the room after him. Your master sits himself at the table, and you hover awkwardly next to him, unsure where to look at. Jongho’s eyes immediately pin you to the ground where you stand.

“I want him to learn how to treat a gunshot wound, that’s why he’s here with me.” San explains to Jongho as he pulls out several clean rags, a pair of bronze tweezers and a roll of bandage. The young battlemaster sighs, clearly unwilling, but he nods anyway.

“Whatever you say, hyung.”

San sets to pulling out a spool of thread and a thin needle, from his satchel. “Apprentice, fetch me the lamp and get me the bottle of rum from the shelf.”

You give your master a concerned look as you move towards the shelf hesitantly. “Master, this really isn’t the time to be drinking-”

“I’m using it to clean the wound, idiot. I’m out of marigold. And I abhor the taste of alcohol.” San tuts as he unwraps a sloppily done bandage around Jongho’s upper arm. The wound is a laceration from your stray musket bullet, and from what you can see, it’s still bleeding even though it’s been a few hours since the injury. “Jongho-ah, you know you shouldn’t be helping with the clearing up if you’re injured.”

“They needed someone to move the wreckage from the mizzenmast.” The maknae grunts in way of explanation. You swallow the guilt building up in your throat and move to get the lantern hanging from the low ceiling.

“How did you get this, though?” San continues, tossing the bloodied bandage to the ground. “You usually escape most fights unscathed, or most of your wounds are from close range combat. It’s rare to see you with a musket wound.”

You freeze. You can literally feel Jongho eyeballing the back of your head. But when he finally answers, he simply mutters, “Got sloppy for a moment.”

San coughs. Your master obviously doesn’t believe him but refrains from pressing him, taking the bottle of rum from you and wiping his arms down with them.

“So, apprentice, I’m cleaning my hands with alcohol. It helps to get rid of harmful organisms living on the surface of our bodies.” San works quickly, eyebrows furrowing into concentration as he slides into his ‘healing zone’, where nothing matters to him except the patient, him and occasionally maybe you. “Before you start treating a wound, make sure you clean everything you’re using thoroughly or the wound might get infected.”

“Yes, Master.” You move closer to watch him at his craft. San’s motions are practiced and methodical, as if he’s done it for years, over and over again. When he’s satisfied that everything is spotless, he moves to Jongho’s arm.

“Cloth.” He speaks, and you pass him the clean rags on the table. San soaks them in rum with a pair of tweezers while you cough at the powerful smell of alcohol. You still don’t understand how the rest of your shipmates can just down bottles of it without dying from alcohol poisoning.

Your master ignores you and leans forward, gently dabbing at Jongho’s wound. Apart from a flinch and a muttered curse, the younger battlemaster doesn’t seem to be in much discomfort, even as blood continues to stain the rags red.

“Help me hold down a cloth on his arm.” San instructs firmly as he disposes the last of the dirty rags in a basket. You stare at your master in horror.

“What?”

“You’re not deaf, apprentice. Put pressure on the wound and help me slow the bleeding while I heat the needle.” The healer shoves a cloth into your hands and moves to the lamp, leaving you in awkward silence with Jongho.

You gulp and move towards the maknae, trying not to touch him, but it’s impossible. Laying the cloth over his wound, you press down on it lightly, not wanting to hurt him and trying desperately to ignore his face right next to yours.

“That’s not going to do anything.” Jongho snorts in your ear and you squeak, almost dropping the rag. His large hand covers yours and presses down on it firmly, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

You freeze completely, but the frantic pounds of your heart are otherwise.

“Move to the side, apprentice. I want you to watch this carefully.” San returns with a sterilized and threaded needle, seating himself before Jongho and thankfully sparing you the close contact with the battlemaster. “I’m going to start suturing the wound.”

You breathe in and out quickly, trying to calm your racing heart as you move to make space for your master. Your hand slips from the maknae’s grasp. The slim man crouches in front of Jongho, eyes narrowed in intense focus. With quick, deft movements, he holds the needle with the tweezers and pulls the needle through Jongho’s skin, leaving a row of neat stitches in its wake.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” The words slip out of your mouth worriedly as you glance at Jongho. The battlemaster merely turns away.

San replies in his place as he continues stitching the wound. “I usually put a painkiller made of lavender on the area before I start, but Jongho’s a tough boy, so it’s no problem for him.”

“I am a man. I’m nineteen already.” Jongho grunts in exasperation, but the healer ignores him.

“You’re going to be nineteen.” San corrects him with a grin, finishing of the stitches and snipping the thread with a pair of scissors. The maknae gives him an irritated glare.

“I hate you, hyung.” He grumbles. But before San can reply with another wiseass comment, the sound of Mingi’s voice comes echoing into the sickbay.

“We’ve arrived at Tortuga!”

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vilevampire · 3 years

Text

“Isn’t it Love?” (One Shot)

Thank you @ducksoup17 for helping me beta read this :) Rating: General audiences Trigger Warnings: Panic attacks Pairing: Louie Duck x B.O.Y.D Summary: Boyd thinks he might be in love. 1.805 words Ao3 Link

"Dr. Dad?"

Gyro stopped writing in his notebook.

Right now, there were only him and Boyd in the lab.

He dropped his pen to focus his full attention on his son.

"Yes, 2B— I mean… Boyd?"

"What is love like?"

Gyro blinked his eyes.

"Pardon?"

"What does romantic attraction feel like?"

"Boyd, who taught you those words?"

"The internet." Boyd chirped happily.

Gyro scratched his head with a grunt.

"Those are not things for you to worry about. Why would you even want to know this?" He reached out to his coffee mug and took a sip.

"It's because I think that I might be in love, Dr. Dad." Boyd explained a little awkwardly.

Gyro suddenly spat his coffee in a coughing fit.

Startled, Boyd reached out to pat his father's back lightly.

When Gyro could finally stop coughing, he screeched:

"IN LOVE?! With who? How? Since when?!"

Boyd put his hands on his back while looking bashfully at the floor.

"I don't know. It started somewhat recently." Gyro couldn't help but notice that Boyd had avoided his first question. The more his son talked, the more color drained away from his face. "I've been experiencing confusing feelings when talking to and thinking about a specific person. I searched for answers online and the results said that I might be in love."

Gyro massaged his temples with a groan.

Boyd, being the smart kid he is, immediately noticed his father's unrest. Carefully, he approached Gyro and spoke up:

"Dr. Dad?" He hesitated. "Am I… bad for feeling this way?"

Gyro looked down at his child.

Boyd had already grown far beyond a simple robot ages ago. He had surpassed all of Gyro's expectations and, to this day, he was still his greatest creation.

Boyd deserved much better than a grumpy dad.

Alas, Gyro really wasn't cut out for this whole father and son thing.

With a sigh, Gyro pulled Boyd into a hug, which was quickly reciprocated.

"You're not bad for having feelings, Boyd. I was just surprised, that's all." He pushed his son away gently. "However, I don't think I'm the right person to explain more about this subject to you."

Boyd looked at his father with a frown. His Dr. Dad was the smartest person he knew. He always had the solutions for everything.

If he couldn't give him the answer to his dilemma, who else could?

—————

Boyd knocked on the elegant wooden door.

"Doofus?"

…

No response.

He knocked again. This time, he heard a grumble come from inside. Boyd turned the doorknob and pushed it open.

"What do you want, you lousy piece of machinery?" Doofus pierced him with his eyes. He was currently in the middle of… something.

His head was dripping wet and a bucket full of water could be seen in his hands.

Fortunately, Boyd had already learned long ago not to question his older brother's strange pastime activities.

"Brother, what is love like?"

Doofus stopped whatever the hell he was doing to look up at Boyd.

"And why would you like to know that, hmm?"

The corners of Boyd's mouth twitched. A warm blush spread across his cheeks while he fidgeted with his thumbs.

Of course, Doofus noticed all of this.

"Ho-hooo." He eyed Boyd curiously. "Well, what do we have here? It would seem my little brother has been fiddling around?"

Boyd quietly tapped his feet on the floor. Maybe Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

"Well, you're in luck. You've come to the right person."

Boyd looked up at him.

"I did?"

"Yes." Doofus got up from his chair to pace around his room, gesturing wildly at his brother. "You see, Boyd, love is like sweet, sticky honey, and the self-sacrificing bees that make it. It's the rush of fresh air you feel after getting locked inside a room for two weeks, it's that moment when you realize chickens can't fly despite having wings."

Boyd furrowed his brows while listening to Doofus' rant.

"I don't think I get it."

Doofus smirked weirdly at him. He patted his brother's shoulder reassuringly.

"Someday you will, brother. Someday you will."

...As it turns out, Doofus wasn't the right person to ask about this after all.

—————

"Huey, can I ask you something?"

Huey looked up from his Junior Woodchuck Guidebook to gaze at Boyd. The two of them were hanging out in the triplet's bedroom while Huey's brothers weren't around.

"Of course. What's up?"

"What is love like?"

Huey seemed unprepared for this question.

"Why do you want to know something like that?"

"...Why does everybody ask me that? Can't you please just tell me?" Boyd pouted while blushing a little.

Boyd was an incredibly easy person to read. Anyone with half a pair of eyes could discern the boy's emotions just from taking one look at his face.

Combine that with the fact that he was Huey's best friend, of course Huey would quickly realize what was probably going on.

"Boyd, could it be... you have a crush on someone?" Huey smiled gently at his friend. "That's adorable. Who is it? Can you tell me?" He poked Boyd teasingly.

Boyd pondered over this.

Huey was his best friend in the whole world.

Maybe it would be okay if he told him?

Boyd shifted around nervously, the soft blush on his cheeks becoming increasingly stronger.

"...ouie..."

"Hm?"

"...I think—" Boyd took a deep breath. "I think I like... Louie..."

Huey suddenly closed his book with a heavy-sounding thud.

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and then opened it again:

"You have a crush on Louie? My brother Louie?!"

Boyd nodded shyly.

Huey became speechless. The gears started turning in his head.

Should he tell Boyd how Louie felt about him?

No, no, Louie himself had to be the one to do it.

"Have you considered confessing to him?"

Boyd fiddled with his thumbs as he spoke:

"I have, but... I'm not sure. What if—" He hesitated. "What if he doesn't feel the same way about me?"

Slowly, Boyd's eyes widened and his pupils constricted, tears threatening to escape.

"Huey— Huey, what if he doesn't like me back? What if he doesn't like robots?" Boyd's breath became erratic as he began twisting and pulling on Huey's bedsheets. "What if he actually hates me? Wha-"

"Hey! Boyd, calm down, please." Huey held onto his friend's face forcefully but gently. "It's okay. Look at me. I'm here. Please focus on your breathing. You'll get through this, okay?"

Boyd stared into Huey's eyes without blinking, a single tear quietly running down his cheek. He closed his eyes abruptly and sniffed.

Huey pulled him into a hug.

"It's okay."

"I'm here for you."

"You're not a bother."

"You're a real person."

"None of us hate you."

"You're more than just a robot."

He spent many minutes saying comforting words to his friend until Boyd's silent cries eventually calmed down.

This wasn't the first time they had done this.

"Boyd, listen to me," Huey spoke kindly but firmly, still holding his friend in his arms. "Nobody hates you, okay? Especially not Louie. He's your friend."

He could feel Boyd give a weak nod under his grasp, so he kept going:

"And you're my best friend, alright? I could never hate you. You're an amazing person who's going through a lot right now." He paused. "You should consider opening up to Louie about how you feel."

Boyd held tightly onto the back of Huey's clothes.

"Are you sure? Do you think it's a good idea?"

"Yes. Your heart will feel much lighter after you tell him the truth, trust me."

"...Okay. I will try."

—————

"So, did you have something you wanna tell me?" Louie crossed his legs.

He looked the same as always: hands in his pockets, nonchalant, peaceful and easy-going, yet also cunning and sharp... everything Boyd ever aspired to be.

Boyd gulped apprehensively.

"Louie, do you hate me?" He blurted out before getting straight to the point.

It was a good start.

Louie stared at him in surprise.

"What? No? Do I act like I hate you?"

Boyd bit down on his beak nervously.

"No... I just..." He looked away, his voice trailing off.

Louie decided to pick it up from there.

"Dude, you're like, one of the coolest people I know."

Boyd looked over at him again.

"And I love hanging out with you. Sometimes it feels like you're one of the only people who really get me."

"Really?" Boyd choked out. "I'm… glad you feel that way."

"Of course." Louie nodded. "I like you very much, dude. You're my friend."

Boyd's heart started racing as he struggled to get his words out.

"Actually-" He paused, opening up his beak to speak, but finding himself unable to do so.

Boyd's selective mutism was a recurring issue.

It had gotten slightly better over time, but there were still many moments where he would be too anxious to say anything out loud.

Louie was already used to this, so he patiently waited for his friend to find his voice.

However, as more seconds stretched out, the more it seemed like he couldn't. Boyd was unable to get the words out of his throat. He stood completely frozen, except for his trembling beak, silently telling the words-

"—I love you?"

Louie's face flushed red.

He read Boyd's lips and accidentally let the words slip out of his mouth.

"That's what you were trying to say, right?" He tried playing it smooth, but it was clear that he was getting flustered.

After seeing the usually silver-tongued, smug, and overly confident Louie Duck crumble into a flushing mess, Boyd finally gathered enough courage to speak up:

"I love you."

Louie closed his mouth to focus all of his attention on the robot in front of him.

"I'm not sure since when, but... I think this is what I'm feeling" His voice grew increasingly steady the more he spoke. "I'm in love with you, Louie. You're amazing in every sense of the word. You're smart, funny, observant, assertive, loyal, trustworthy, level-headed, you're pretty, you always know what to say, you're compassionate, you pick up on the little details, you understand me, you make me feel better, you're so amazing..."

Boyd stopped for a moment, trying to pry for Louie's reaction.

"Louie?"

The duck's face was completely covered by his hoodie, with his hands covering his eyes.

But even then, Boyd could still tell with the help of his heat sensors that Louie's face was definitely blushing wildly.

"Louie? Are you—"

"BATHROOM BREAK!" He suddenly exclaimed, running away as fast as he possibly could.

"...Huh."

Boyd was very confused.

He was very, very confused, but…

Huey was right about one thing at least.

His chest didn't feel as tight anymore.

#louyd #louie duck #boyd gearloose #ducktales fanfic #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #boyd #boyd drake #ducktales fanfiction #ducktales 17 #dt 17 #boyd beaks #ducktales boyd #louie ducktales #boyd ducktales #idk how else to tag this #txt #ccs #my writing

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calpops · 4 years

Text

shatter | c.h.

Distance brings problems to the surface of your relationship with Calum. A break feels like the only option. You hold onto hope that it will bring you back together and that if it’s meant to be it will be.

1.5k words

dates with cal masterlist

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Your heart sinks as Calum sighs and sets himself on the edge of the couch cushion; three places away from you. Usually he’d settle completely at your side, pull you into him and let your head rest against his chest, grin as your fingers tapped the rhythm of his heart against his ribs and know you were both finally home for the night. The moon would have usually guided you both to bed but tonight it casts haunting shadows that cut across Calum’s somber face. You swallow down a lump in your throat and play with your hands set in your lap.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” He asks, voice tight and trying not to break.

“I think it’s what we need,” you explain and try to convince him and yourself.

Things had gotten rocky between you as band responsibilites took off and distance made everything hazy. He was gone and busy, you were home and alone. You convinced yourself that when things calmed down and he was home more it would be different. Things would go back to the way they were before he left. It would go back to feeling like home. But they stayed distant. He was still gone; celebrating the success, riding out the highs of all the successes his hard work brought. You were happy for him. But, you were still alone, not one for parties or late nights. You were shaken by the disturbance that entered your lives and lent you realizations. You felt like three different people all in the same breath. There was you when you were with him, you when he was away, and you somewhere in between those times. You weren’t sure who that was anymore.

“A break,” he said around a sigh. “You really think we need a break?”

“It already feels like we’re in the middle of one,” you admit and feel your heart crash. You hate to admit it but the truth has never been easy to admit. “You’ve been gone for so long.”

“I’m home now,” he insists and doesn’t understand—you can’t fault him for that, you haven’t explained yourself all that well.

“Not really. You’re still gone almost every night. When you are here it’s different. There’s a disconnect. It’s not like it used to be. I don’t know if I can handle how it is right now. I don’t know—it’s me, it’s me, it has to be me. I’m just”—Calum moves to you and cuts off the bubble of hysteria you can actively feel rising in your chest. He grabs your hands and soothes you.

“If you need a break I can stay with Ashton for a while,” he says and you can see the heartbreak and crash of emotions that sweep through his eyes. He frowns, you hear his breath catch in his throat and you turn away from him; unable to witness how much this is hurting him. “You’re right. I haven’t been around. It’s been different.”

“I want to get back to normal, but I don’t know how.”

“Time. Communicating. This… this is the first step,” Calum said and though the realization was painful for both of you it was necessary and held a splinter of hope for the future. “Thank you for telling me. I want to get back to what we had too. If this is how you think we should do it then I’ll do it. I’m sure Ashton won’t mind if I crash with him, for a while.”

A while held a certain promise that things would recover. It held heart and hope and a certainty that sounded unbreakable. You don’t know how long a while might last, what challenges might crop up in the face of a break or how feelings might change. Something sits heavy on your chest. You are asking for a break and now you feel you need to afford Calum his freedom in the meantime.

“You can see other people, if you want,” you say though it burns from the tip of your tongue to the bottom of your heart.

He shakes his head. “I don’t want that. I don’t want anyone but you.”

“I just need time to find me again,” you say but the sentence breaks in the middle and though it feels the break has begun Calum pulls you to him and offers you comfort.

“When you find yourself, I’ll be waiting.”

***

Days without Calum bleed on in a heartbreaking haze. He wasn’t around much before the break became official but now there’s no waiting around for the possibility of a late night call or an early morning surprise of him walking through the door. He took a few suitcases of things with him—clothes, his bass, journals and when you come upon the empty nightstand on his side of the bed you realize he took a photo of you two he snapped on your first anniversary. Duke went with him to Ashton’s and without the click of his claws on hardwood or the low hum of Calum’s bass the house is much too silent for your liking.

There’s no more waiting around for him or the crushing disappointment of missed calls. There’s no more aching over his absence and wondering if he preferred being out than being with you. It was your choice and now you can only hope he isn’t hurting the way you were. All of the absences also mean there is no more play fighting for the remote or making jokes while making breakfast. There’s no more erratic heart beats and smiles that leave you with wildfires of warmth blazing through your blood. There’s no more Calum.

He surprises you one day, shows up on the doorstep with a timid knock and bashful eyes.

“I need to get some things,” he admits and you realize more time has slipped past than you thought if he’s in need of extra things from the house.

You can sense his anxiety as he collects what he needs; note the hesitation as he reaches for shared things. Your worlds have become so intertwined it’s hard to tell what’s yours and what’s his. Separation becomes a fine line; a hairline fracture in the glass house you’ve built around each other. You hope you both don’t shatter as a consequence.

He leaves you all too soon—not before reminding you he loves you and breaking your heart in the same breath—it enforces a hollow hole that drives it’s way further through your heart. His reappearance shifts your perspective and keeps you up for nights on end. You feel the cool side of the bed is much colder now, you notice the fridge and cupboards are way too stocked with food and the coffee table is lonely without music magazines and picks discarded all over it.

It’s during a late night when you can’t sleep that you find yourself wandering the house. Pacing up and down the halls and feeling nervous energy bite through you. Your pacing isn’t enough. You leave the house with no real destination in mind but are not surprised when you pull up to a familiar abode. The lights are out but you wind up on the doorstep without hesitation, ring the doorbell and hear a bark that sets your already flickering nerves ablaze. The door opens to Ashton who rubs at his tired eyes but takes you in and gives you a sympathetic smile. He doesn’t complain about the late hour. Only invites you in and stalks off so that Calum might take his place.

You come face to face with him; curls mussed from sleep and eyes red rimmed. Your heart lurches at the sight and the distance he doesn’t seem to want to close.

“I think I’ve realized something,” you begin with around a forlorn sigh filled with regret.

“What’s that?” He asks barely above a whisper and you hear the hope that beats through each syllable.

“I’m my best me when I’m with you,” you admit and clap your hands together to get them to stop shaking.

He stays still; stoic and calm and it shoots uncertainty through you.

“I shouldn’t have come—I’m sorry,” you say in a sudden realization. It’s not fair of you to show up in the middle of the night with all of your regrets clouded around you. You start to turn around and rush out the door but his voice stops you.

“Sweetheart don’t leave.”

His term of endearment reserved solely for you beats your heart a little faster, fills it with hope and makes your eyes burn. You look down, willing yourself not to cry, not to shatter when you’re so close to bringing you both back together.

“Not without me,” Calum adds on and pieces together cracking shards of your relationship.

“You’ll come home?” You ask.

He nods.

“You’ll stay?” You ask again and hold your breath.

“I left once already. I’m not doing that again.”

You let out your breath and let go of all your hesitations and close the distance between you. He welcomes you with everything he has. You feel at home in his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” you mumble against his chest and finally slow tears to fall; tears of relief and love.

“I’ll get my stuff tomorrow. Let’s just grab Duke and go home.”

You nod, though you’re pretty sure just being in his embrace again feels more like home than your house ever could.

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Text

Warm Vanilla - R. Mendes Imagine

NOTE: just BARELY over 1k words featuring Raul and bookworm!reader, hope you like it!

She paced back and forth outside of his front door, now deciding to contemplate the seven-minute walk from her dorm room to his apartment she had just completed. Was it really all that important, Y/N asked herself? Before she could decide that the errand was, indeed, a ludicrous decision, the front door swung open.

“Oh, hey honey.” Raul steps backward slightly, a smile forming on his face instantly from the sight of her. It grew impossibly bigger when her round cheeks flushed a deep red by the pet name slipping by his lips.

“Hi,” she spoke quietly, looking down to pick at the chipped, pastel pink polish splotched on her fingernails. “Sorry if I uh…caught you at a bad time.” Y/N bit her lip.

“Oh, no. I was just going down to get the mail,” Raul informs, lifting the brass-cut key as evidence. “Class got canceled today so I figured I’d try to do something productive around the place.” He rolls his eyes at himself, before turning his attention back to you and asking, “why, what’s up?”

“Oh, I just,” she cleared her throat. “I—um, I left something here the other day when we hung out…but it’s okay—” she tried shoving any lousy excuse out of her mouth before she could fully think about it, but Raul’s comforting hands placed themselves on her shoulders and made her heartbeat erratic for a few moments.

“Honey, that’s alright.” He chuckled, turning his head over his shoulder to nod at the door. “It’s unlocked, you can head on in and get it. I’ll just be a few minutes, okay?” A grateful smile appeared on her lips as she slid past Raul’s form. But before her hand could turn the knob, she felt one of his palms on her waist, guiding her body towards his and allowing his pink pair of lips to kiss the crown of her head sweetly.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, delivering a small squeeze to her side before turning his body to the stairwell only a few feet away and beginning a light jog down them. Once his body was out of sight, the woman dashed inside, eyes flicking around his apartment furiously.

It couldn’t have gone far, she thinks to herself, you were just here last night. She checks the coffee table, where the couple had spent a good portion of the previous night molding into one another’s bodies as a sitcom played before them on the television set. The table sat bare of any object other than a glass of water Raul was probably still drinking and a wax candle spreading the warm aroma of vanilla cupcakes throughout the apartment. Cautiously, she wanders into his bedroom and eyes his side tables carefully. Nothing, in particular, was worth the journey through the doorway, with exception to a small, framed photo of him and his family.

Finally, she began a quest to the small kitchen connected to the den she initially began in. Amidst her hustle, Raul entered the apartment with a scant stack of envelopes and junk mail in his hand.

“Find what you were looking for?” He raises his brow, walking to the kitchen. You follow him, lips quirking down.

“No,” Y/N sighs, “maybe I…” she pauses upon the sight of Raul rounding the counter and setting the envelopes near a book. Her book. She elicits a small gasp and comes around the counter to stand beside Raul, taking her book in all of its mysterious, action-packed, and jacket-wrapped glory into her eager hands.

“Oh, fuck! I’m sorry, I saw that this morning and meant to drop by and give it back to you. It must’ve slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay.” Y/N squeaked, now elated to have the tale near her once again. She pulls it away and allows the pad of her thumb to graze over the book’s cover.

“Must’ve been a pretty good story, huh?” Raul reckons, a small smirk coming up to his lips.

“I haven’t finished it yet. And I stopped on a cliffhanger last night before coming over here and…I just really wanted to finish it.” She admits, feeling her cheeks twinge with their scarlet yet again.

“Alright, go ahead.” Raul shrugs, waving a hand toward the couch. The woman furrows her brows.

“Huh?”

“Finish it. I mean, you don’t have anywhere you need to be right now, do you?” She glances to the couch, looking quite tempting with Raul’s knitted blanket draped over the back of it.

“No, but…I don’t want to disturb you.” She looks up towards Raul, fingers rattling against the book’s spine from the pure thought of what would happen next.

“Honey, you’re the least disturbing person I know. Besides, the walk back to your dorm just to read would kill you. Just head to the couch, or my bed, and read the rest of it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, it’s okay. Trust me.” Biting her lip, she laughs giddily and tugs Raul against her shorter frame in a haste hug, before skipping over to his inviting couch and sprawling out. He retreats behind the counter to prepare dinner but has trouble keeping his eyes off of her for the next hour following. It was alright, though. Because she was too entranced in another world, allowing the scent of warm vanilla and words to carry her away off of Raul’s couch cushions and into a new destination. Fate timed their activities to perfection, and the proof was Raul announcing dinner’s completion alongside the sound of her book thumping closed.

A longing sigh leaves Y/N’s lips as she clutches the hardback against her chest, much like an old friend she was all too eager to see.

“So…what do we rate it?” Raul quirks an eyebrow, setting two plates down on the coffee table in front of the couch. She sits herself up, leaving the book to sit in her lap as she grins up at him.

“Five stars.” She states with confidence, prior to murmuring “m’ kind of sad it’s over, though.” Her eyes flick to the side. That was always the worst part of finishing a book, in her opinion.

“It’s okay, honey,” Raul mumbles through a bite of oven-baked chicken while his arm swings around her shoulder to pull her closer into his side for comfort. “We’ll go find a new one for you to get lost in, tomorrow.” Y/N was grateful for Raul, and his understanding of her addictive ways when it came to words. But, no matter how many worlds the girl burrows herself between pages for, the one before her would always be one worth re-reading.

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maniacwatchestheworld · 3 years

Text

Responding to this post.

Oh, well your clarification about your point of view being solely your free interpretation and not necessarily based on what Capcom canonically intended with these characters actually helps a lot to understand your stance on the matter! Like it or not, though, Resident Evil's bioweapons have always been similar to typical zombies. It's the story of a virus, or a fungus, that infects human (or animal) hosts and modifies their behavior, sometimes in an irreversible manner, until the human is no longer at the helm, or their consciousness is considerably damaged to the point of no return. Or until they're cured, but it's mostly a luxury only the protagonists can afford. When you defeat the Lycans at the Stronghold and you find the Cadou implantation notes in the underground laboratory, that's when gamers who are familiar with the franchise get the first clue that it's a typical Resident Evil game, for you learn in these notes that Alcina Dimitrescu was neither a real supernatural vampire nor an irredeemable asshole who tortured and killed people for the sake of it, but that the real Alcina Dimitrescu, some plain ordinary noblewoman, 'died' in this underground laboratory ages ago and what you killed at the castle is a bioweapon biologically engineered through some type of experiments conducted on that poor woman. Same thing goes for all the Lycans, and at this point in the game you can guess that it's what happened to her fellow Lords as well. Their aggressive behavior was not their fault, something or someone made them that way, and that someone's gotta pay.. because.. well, it's a Resident Evil game and the mad scientist who tried to play God always pays in the end. It's not made as clear as with the Bakers, but since all of them come from the Megamycete and it's just the basic plot of pretty much every Resident Evil game ever, it makes sense why the devs didn't bother explaining in further details that the Lords were also not in complete control of themselves anymore. We're supposed to already know, that's what bioweapons are and they're not that different. You wrote "For the Bakers, Eveline made them erratic, uncontrollably hostile, and gave them a preoccupation with death and a penchant for violence." Which is.. exactly, word for word, what happened to the Lords and the Lycans as well. They even all share a sort of obsession around the concept of family (even Leonardo, in his last moments, was calling for his daughter after turning into a Lycan!) The only difference is that they're influenced by the Cadou parasite, not by Eveline, but the outcome is the same. As I said, they're all products of the Megamycete in the end, so the symptoms are awfully similar. Lucas Baker and Ethan Winters are the only ones who seemed to be able to resist the mind-control abilities of the mold, but Lucas did go through some behavioral changes (arguably so, since he's one of the few mold-infected bioweapons who had confirmed undiagnosed mental health issues pre-infection, with Donna Beneviento, so, like her, it's harder to determine what was his own doing and what was the influence of the mold). Even Rose is shown getting uncontrollably aggressive in the post-credit cutscene. She did have a reason to get angry, but her reaction afterwards shows that she regrets losing her cool and is not able to fully control her violent impulses. From what we've seen, she seems to be a mix of her father and the Bakers/Lords, she's mostly able to live a human-like life and function normally, but unlike her father she has to actively refrain herself from getting uncontrollably violent and to resist the influence of the parasite on her mind and behavior. And I don't think that my interpretation is any less nuanced than yours. If anything, you're the one who's painting the Lords in a more negative, Disney villains-like, light by considering that they are fully self-aware, that their actions are truly what they all intended, and that they would all be the same without the mold and the Cadou. That way of thinking doesn't make them sympathetic at all, it just

makes them appear like inherently evil and bloodthirsty bastards who did terrible things on their free will without any mitigating circumstances, which is the definition of a one-dimensional villain. While I'm saying that what makes the Lords so tragic is that they were most likely perfectly harmless and innocent people who were unfairly biologically and physically altered for the rest of their lives without their consent (we learn this through Heisenberg) and that, like most Resident Evil bioweapons, they don't really know, nor are in control of, what they're doing anymore. The tragedy of Karl "I'm not like my siblings" Heisenberg is that, unfortunately for him, he is exactly what Mother Miranda made him into, and he is no different than his siblings. He can't help but being as aggressive, impulsive, out of control and unpredictably dangerous as the others. Even when he tries his hardest to appear harmless, there wasn't any moment, in that cutscene where he offers a deal to Ethan Winters, when I ever felt safe in his presence, the man is a ticking bomb. He attempted to kill Ethan in his death traps maze after the meeting and gleefully enjoyed seeing him scared and in pain, clumsily tried to manipulate him into using his infant daughter as a weapon, was noticeably emotionally unstable throughout his proposal, took Ethan's rejection like the sociopath he is: by throwing him to the Sturm, kept trying to kill him by sending his soldiers after him in his factory, then revealed in his boss battle monologue that he was always planning to take Rose from him and use her for his own benefit. Neil Newbon wasn't answering in-character when he was asked what he thought Karl would have done had he ever been free. It was his point of view, not Karl's. The sad truth is, that it was already far too late to save Heisenberg. It's a pessimistic, hard-to-swallow point of view, but it's what the game itself lets you know. Just as it was too late for Ethan, too ("I'm afraid you can't return to your old world any longer, Mr. Winters"). Even if he had lived after Miranda's death, Heisenberg would never be free, and his body would never fully belong to him, because she altered it forever. He will always remain the weapon she turned him into, and he can't help but being not only exceptionally good at what weapons are naturally designed for, but also craving it. That's the tragedy of Karl Heisenberg, and what makes him so fascinating. A weapon who desperately wanted to feel what it's like to be a man, but, by his very own nature, can't. The other Lords could have similar analyses, they're equally brilliant characters. See, I don't think it's a matter of nuance or lack thereof, but it might simply be a matter of subjectivity. I know I'm biased because human experimentation is something that terrifies me, and what contributes a lot to the horror Resident Evil makes me feel is the idea of taking perfectly healthy and normal human beings who didn't ask for any of this and wasting their lives by turning them into abominations that are only monstruous shells of what they used to be. And the more ruthless and terrifying the monster, the more heartbroken I feel about the human trapped inside. (And that's why I'm uncomfortable with the idea of comparing it to disabilities or mental health issues, it feels like you're considering that disabilities are the same as a fictional sci-fi virus or parasite, when they're actually natural occurrences and accidents that are or become part of the person and don't change who they inherently are, not something that's been artificially implanted in them by someone to purposely create something they can weaponize for their own benefit) Having to kill them makes me feel angry and frustrated because what happened to them is cruel, unfair and there was no way for me to save them. But I must be a bit of a masochist because I like this feeling and its complexity. The endings of Resident Evil are almost always bittersweet because your protagonist generally looks back on what just happened and is torn between their relief

of being a survivor and sadness for those who didn't make it. As I said, I'm still not very fond of the comparison with disabilities, brain damage and mental health issues resulting of it, mostly because we're talking about a parasite taking control of its host here, not an injury. You absolutely can't compare it to alters either, it's biology vs. psychology and those two things don't work the same way, one is the result of physical damages to the body, that can be biologically observed and studied, the other is the result of psychological conditions in the mind, that can't be seen or physically observed. The only thing you can accurately compare the mold to, is other real-life parasites. If you consider that parasites deserve to be left alive at the expenses of their host, it's your opinion, I respect it. But I know that I would sadly make the choice to put my beloved dog down if he ever contracted rabies, and there's nothing ableist with putting a rabid animal down to spare him the suffering. And I would certainly have murderous thoughts if I learned that someone infected him with rabies on purpose. Basically, that's more or less how I interpret what happened to the Lords, the Lycans, and the Bakers. Resident Evil has never been a psychological horror game, where the antagonists are antagonists because of mental health issues and there's no real villain because they can't help it (or, poetically-speaking I guess we can consider that mental health struggles are the real villains of psychological horror), it's a sci-fi/biological horror game, where the antagonists are antagonists because they've been either genetically engineered or subjected to DNA-altering experimentations that ripped their humanity away from them, and the villains are those who purposefully made them that way to use them as weapons. You choose to stray away from this aspect by analyzing the characters through a psychological perspective as if they were regular humans with disabilities, which I don't think is an accurate way to analyze Resident Evil because bioweapons are neither humans nor disabled, while my interpretation stays closer to the original medium and analyzes the characters through their biological changes, by taking into consideration the fact that they aren't disabled, they've been purposely made into something else than human, and they're in fact perfectly abled for the new sick purpose they're given by their creators. Because that's what Resident Evil is about: biological horror, and the atrocities some people can put their fellow humans through in the name of science and power. But I did mention previously that Resident Evil always punishes those who play God with human lives, and I totally understand your opinion that nobody should play God any further by deciding whether or not the parasite-ridden creature born from these experiments should live or not, no matter how unethical its sole existence is. It's not my point of view, but I understand.

Okay everyone. Strap yourselves in! This is a long one!

Ehehe. Well, you know what I said about how I believe that you make your own continuity and choose what gets to be canon or not, regardless of authorial intent? Well, you see, I'm a filthy casual who hasn't really played any Resident Evil game before ever, and has only barely consumed any media regarding it outside of this one at all! Why my brain has decided to fixate on RE8? I have no idea! But that's the situation I find myself in! And so presently the other entries in the series are completely irrelevant to me because I know just about nothing about them! But in general, I do believe that most media needs to be able to stand on its own without outside supplemental material in order for it be to genuinely good. Even if an individual section doesn't make much sense to a new viewer because it's part of something serialized, any individual product needs to be good enough to at least tempt the consumer to want to see what came before it in order for it to be good, if it is to be marketed on its own. I genuinely dislike it when media decides that it needs to have a barrier to entry in order for people to engage with it. (This is actually a big reason that many people can't get into comic books.) And Resident Evil Village very much is a game that can be played on its own without necessarily needing any prior knowledge of the series in order to enjoy it. Do I understand pretty much anything having to do with Chris or the Umbrella Corporation? NOT REALLY! But the game is still good in spite of that and people should be allowed to examine it on its lonesome and on its own terms without having to know about literally everything that came before. So yeah, you may be viewing it through the eyes of a longtime fan who knows the lore, but if I can only 'properly' enjoy this game if I know the lore... Then that would be bad! That would make it a bad game! And if they made it such that the story can't actually be understood unless you know the lore when this game is very much supposed to stand on its own, then that is a failure on the game developers part! I should not have to do homework to actually understand and enjoy a piece of media if it's actually good! (I mean, I understand and they explain how and why Ethan is a mold monster just fine. It may be a little confusing for newcomers who know nothing about RE7, but they do a perfectly good job of explaining it for anyone that is new. But if they fail to put enough content into the game to understand the actual nature of the Lords in the game when you play it on its own terms, that's bad, a breakdown of communication, and a failure on their part!) Since this game is supposed to stand on its own as its own product, knowing what came before should enhance your experience with the game, but that previous game shouldn't be a barrier for entry for everyone else! In fact, a criticism I have seen for this game from at least two internet personalities (aka people who literally play video games for a living) is the sentiment that how they tried to tie this game in with the rest of the series at the end felt forced and that it would have been better if they just let this game be its own thing. It's fair if you disagree with that viewpoint. But the fact is that tying certain things about this game in with the previous entries made the experience worse for these people who have played them. And so I think that the idea that perhaps this game should be examined on its own without looking at what came before is also a legitimate one. (And if a person wants to say, "Yeah, I know that's a thing that happened, but it's dumb and I don't like it, so I'm going to ignore it for the sake of my enjoyment," then I think that's valid.) And having the game just be its own thing was an option. There are plenty of game series out there where the individual entries have little to nothing to do with one another.

In any case, the nuance! What you say about my perspective painting them as one-dimensional characters would be true... If I didn't also firmly believe that the Lords are victims of abuse. (This argument that the Lords are victims of abuse is the core of pretty much everything else that I have said about them.) Ultimately what I'm realizing is that our difference of opinion and point of view is stemming from one primary thing. Nature vs. Nurture. Your viewpoint is very much from a nature standpoint; these were people once, but they aren't anymore, so they are dangerous, can't be redeemed by their nature, and therefore must be destroyed. And while it may not be coming across the most clearly, my perspective on the other hand says that while their nature may predispose them to certain behavior (violence, aggression, etc.) that ultimately it's their environment that makes them act this way, and so therefore they deserve the chance to live! They act inhumanely because that is what they need to do in order to survive and appease their abuser. They are in essence being forced into violence by Mother Miranda. If they want to survive, they need to fight and kill because otherwise Mother Miranda would kill them for insubordination. If they want to receive love and attention from the woman who is literally calling herself their mother, they need to do evil, monstrous things. They've been indoctrinated into a cult and while they may be self-aware and in control of themselves, they ultimately don't have much of a choice because if they disobey, they will be subjected to further abuse and possibly die for their troubles. Additionally their indoctrination into Miranda's cult may impair their ability to discern what is right and wrong. In any case, when people who are in abusive situations do bad things because their abuser told them to, the blame for that behavior is on the abuser, not the victim. If the Lords were not in a situation where violence and killing is a condition of their survival and if they were actually receiving the love that their family should be unconditionally giving them... Even though they were experimented on and have become inhuman monsters, perhaps they would choose not to be violent at all. At the very least, if you give Rose the chance to prove that she isn't only her nature, then the Lords deserve a similar chance (albeit probably with some conditions). Everyone deserves to live a life free from abuse, but that was taken from them. I do believe that they were, "perfectly harmless and innocent people who were unfairly biologically and physically altered for the rest of their lives without their consent," and being subject to physical alteration in that way is abuse! Their abuse is the mitigating circumstance, and when put into a situation where they aren't being abused and have the genuine choice to not be violent, perhaps they would go back to being harmless in spite of what they've become. The fact that they are victims of abuse is part of the tragedy of it all to me. Are the Lords bad people? Very likely. But even they deserve justice for what they were subjected to! And even they deserve a chance at a life without abuse! And even if I do agree with you that the human that inhabited their body before is long dead, I don't necessarily think that killing the sentient being that replaced them is the solution! If anything they're also victims of all of this and they deserve their justice as well! I'm not going to limit my sense of who deserves justice only to humans!

Also if the story of Resident Evil is literally always just, 'People become irredeemable monsters by getting infected by some kind of parasite or virus,' why not try to mix up that formula a bit by throwing the 'irredeemable monster' part into question? Having the exact same story every time sounds pretty boring and like it would get old after 25 years. Maybe they didn't elaborate on that point for the reasons that you state... But it's also possible that the game devs didn't clarify that point because they wanted to throw the status quo into question. Perhaps they want the audience to explore the idea that even though they may be victims as well as the villains, that they may have been able to be saved unlike the monsters of the past. Rose gets to live on in the condition that she's in, right? She was given a chance to continue living a peaceful life, even if the fact that she's moldy predisposes her to aggression and violence. The game is literally telling us that she can be better in spite of her nature. And I want to believe that means that the Lords could learn to hold themselves back and be better people just like the young woman Rose has grown into. And if they can learn, grow, and become better people without hurting anyone, then they absolutely deserve a chance at a peaceful life too! The Lords, just like Rose, are the way they are because of their environment. But change the environment, and you may change the Lords! Rose seems to have been raised in a loving environment where she is given support, respect, and some level of independence where the Lords weren't. If the Lords had that, perhaps they would be better. It may not be easy, they would have to learn a lot, face consequences for their actions, and work on their issues with violence and aggression like Rose seems to need to, but they may be able recover. If Rose can be good in spite of her infection, then I believe that the Lords deserve the same benefit of the doubt.

To borrow the dog metaphor, I don't see the Lords as rabid dogs that need to be put down. I see them as dogs being forced into a dogfighting ring. Tails docked, ears cropped, shot full of drugs to make them more aggressive and a better fighters. Their violence isn't their fault because they are only acting violent because that's what their owner has brought out of them through mistreatment. Their owner wants them to be aggressive, so that's what they are. And when a dog is saved from a dogfighting ring? Sure, sometimes the circumstances are such that said dog may have to be put down or remain in captivity for the rest of their life. But they should still be given a chance to live a peaceful life with someone who loves them first. There's always the chance that they will bite, but that isn't their fault. And it doesn't mean that they're unworthy of love. Accidents may happen but they still deserve a chance to learn and love in spite of the danger. And I for one don't think that I would blame anyone for trying to give someone else compassion, even if it hurts someone in the end. (Though of course justice would still need to be served if the harm is severe enough.) Perhaps it is foolish and stupid of me. But I always want to believe that people are capable of change for the better.

To me the tragedy of Heisenberg is that while yes, he is "what Mother Miranda made him into, and he is no different than his siblings," that is only because he doesn't know how to be anything else. He is that way because of the abusive things he was subject to, but he wants to change. At the very least, he wants his circumstances to change and doesn't want to be one of Miranda's broken toys anymore. And he's never given the chance. Karl's lines to me really imply to me that he was a kid when he was taken by Miranda for her experiments. How he acts is therefore a reflection of the kind of world he was raised in. He was raised as a weapon. He was taught from a young age to be violent and aggressive, and that if he wanted to live, he needed to be strong. He never had the option to be anything else if he wanted to continue living. And that's all he's ever known. For the other Lords, they seem to have had lives of their own before the abuse started, but Karl doesn't seem to have that. He may not even know that he can be anything else. In the scene where he's offering that deal to Ethan, what I see is a man who is desperately reaching out and trying to ask for help in the only way that he knows how to the only person who can. In the world he lives in, if he openly asked for help, he would be laughed at and it would be thrown back in his face. So instead he frames it as him offering Ethan his services when what he really needs is help to escape his abuser. He himself probably doesn't even realize that he's actually asking for help because he's always had to rely on himself. To me really, he's just a socially inept dumbass who doesn't know how to deal with people or his emotions! Even when he's being sincere, he sounds sarcastic, and he's trying to do something that he never has before... And he's bad at it! Of course he is! He doesn't know how to act in a way that isn't at least mildly intimidating because he's so used to playing the only role that he's ever had or known. He doesn't know how to act sincere because expressing anything like that would be a weakness to be exploited. And above anything else, because he's a weapon, he can't be weak. He can't be vulnerable. I think that when offering Ethan the deal, he honestly doesn't see what's so bad about treating someone as a weapon. After all, that's how he's been treated as since he was a child, and it's given him power and respect. Why would being used as a weapon be a bad thing? And in the end, Ethan throws his plea for help back into his face, proving that he shouldn't have bothered with trying to be anything other than the weapon that Miranda made him into in the first place. When Ethan rejects him, he falls back on the only things he knows in regards to getting what he wants from others. Intimidation and aggression. He has no idea how to handle that rejection. And that's tragic. To me he was a person who was turned into and treated as a weapon for most of his life, but still wanted to know what it was like to be a person. But he didn't exactly stop being a person. Maybe he became a different one, but just because he became a weapon that doesn't stop him from being a person. (A knife can be both a weapon and a practical everyday tool after all.) But in the end, he didn't know how to be anything else, and was never given that chance no matter how badly he wanted and deserved it. He wasn't ever treated like a person and so didn't know how to act like one, nor did he even believe that he was one. And everyone deserves to be treated like a person no matter who they are. (Also just... Sociopaths deserve to be loved and to be treated with kindness and respect too. Sociopaths are literally just people with a specific mental disorder.)

And I think that where you're scared of human experimentation... Well, for myself at least, I'm not. Obviously people should never be subjected to that kind of treatment ever, and if I learned someone was subjected to that, I would be struck with some kind of abject sense of disgust and horror. But for myself, if I was to be experimented on, while I'm scared to die, I wouldn't exactly be scared of the consequences of such treatment. So long as I survive, I will continue to live, and whatever happens to me, I will just have to deal with it when I get there. But what I'm afraid of is if something bad happens to me, or if I lash out against the world and do something wrong... I'm afraid that people would just give up on me. Of course I wouldn't begrudge anyone for giving up on me if I hurt other people and don't want to change or be better, but in this fictional scenario, if I regret my actions and genuinely do want to change and make myself better... If I were to no longer want to hurt people... I'm afraid that the world would give up on me anyway. I'm afraid that people would see my damage and just decide that it's not worth it and give up, leaving me not just broken, but alone and unable to recover because of it. Whatever it is, no matter how hard it makes my life, it's still one I want to live! Even life as an abomination is one worth living! But being given up on? That may just kill me. And so I would never want to give up on someone who can still grow and change. And I wouldn't want to give up on someone who just wants to live and will do what is needed to keep living either. To me, the one of the cruelest things that someone can ever to do another is to give up on them. (I understand that some need to give up on others for their own sake and to show themselves compassion, but that doesn't make it any less unfortunate for either party.) My favorite characters are always the ones who have done bad things but are not irredeemable. Because they give me hope that if I were to lash out against the world that I could recover. The stories that are told with these kinds of characters are often ones in which someone lashes out against others or the world, but someone helps them anyway. Someone doesn't give up on that character where others would and because of it they are able to get better. They hurt someone else, but they are shown compassion and love anyway. And while I know that you don't agree with me on this point, I see that in Heisenberg, and that's why I can't help but to adore him. I don't want to condemn any of the Lords and just say that they're monsters that can't be helped. Because I don't believe that we can really know that. People deserve second chances. Especially victims of abuse. And in Heisenberg I see someone who is able to be better and recover but presently can't because he's still in an abusive situation that he can't escape and doesn't know how to be better or even that he can. I see someone who is asking for help in the only way he knows how... And it's heartbreaking to see Ethan not even attempting to humor the idea that he may be trying to be sincere or that he could be better than what he is now. In essence, Ethan gave up on someone asking for help before even giving him a single chance to prove himself. If I were in Heisenberg's position I'd be pretty angry (and probably heartbroken) too!

And the thing is... This fear is tied into my views on disability and my secondary experiences with it. You see, because of some very personal reasons, I can't help but to view media through the lens of disability a lot of the time. I know that it makes you uncomfortable to be looking at things through this lens, and that is perfectly valid! But the reality of the situation is that people have and do treat people with disabilities, disorders, and disease as monsters and less than human all the time. Look at what people think of sociopaths and psychopaths when in reality both of those simply describe people who have a specific kinds of mental disorders and likely just need to be understood and to be treated with respect just like anyone else, no matter how frightening we may think that they are. And so to me, to say that a monster needs to be put down, it reflexively makes something inside of me tighten because I believe that we as human beings have a very bad record when trying to decide what is a monster and what isn't. I would much rather make the mistake of giving something the benefit of the doubt to not be violent and be proven wrong by their actions than to condemn someone who is able to change and be better and to leave them with no course for their recovery. And the very sad reality is that abuse can cause disability and disorder, so while I don't particularly want to compare a sci-fi parasite to someone in real life having a disability, there are aspects to it that I feel are analogous. And I don't think that it's wrong of me to look at the results of an abusive relationship within a work of fiction and to compare them to the possible real life effects that abuse can have on someone, even if those things that are being compared against one another for the sake of the analogy include fictional sci-fi fantasy junk. When analyzing works of fiction, if someone has been abused and that caused them to have problems regulating their emotions, whether it was because they were subject to human experimentation or they grew up in a neglectful household, both were caused by a form of abuse and both led to similar behavior in the victim, even if the victim in this case was subjected to infection via moldy nematode and not something that could happen in real life. If It's wrong of me to do that, then are we allowed to have or discuss any victims of abuse within fantastic settings at all? I may be wrong, but I wouldn't think so. Please do understand that I'm not trying to make these analogies lightly, and I am not necessarily saying that their parasites have given them disabilities. Merely that the Lords' behavior reflects what someone in an abusive relationship may experience which may then reflect certain conditions that people in real life have. (You yourself literally just called Heisenberg a sociopath. Which describes a person with a mental condition which can be caused by, among other things, childhood abuse or neglect.) I am not trying to be cruel or insensitive, and I will probably make bad, dumb statements at some point. But I'm not trying to do so maliciously. This is one of the reasons why it takes me so long to make these answers. I truly am trying to word things carefully and be as sensitive with this subject matter as I can, though I have no doubts that I will make mistakes. Again, I'm not a professional in any of this stuff in any way. And to be honest... How can I analyze a character on a deeper level than the surface without falling onto or using the lens of existing and examined human psychology...? I suppose that I can examine them as a metaphor or within the scope of plot devices and tropes, but I don't have any particularly interesting angles or takes for the characters of RE8 presently in that direction, so of course I'm going to examine the Lords and their actions as if they were real people with actual psychology to examine! It's more interesting and fun that way anyway. And that's all this is. I'm just speculating and having fun here.

In any case, back to the Lords. I think that everyone who experiences abuse deserves a chance at a safe and happy life, even those that have done bad things before. And I'm willing to extend that to a mushroom man. I can't help but to see these characters as people, and while I know that you may disagree with that and say that they aren't people (and mind you, being a person is different from being a human being), I don't think that I will be changing that any time soon. I want my idea of personhood to be very broad because I don't think that we can know for certain what would qualify personhood if we ever were to encounter beings with a level of intelligence and self-awareness comparable to humans. Personally, I would rather have a more inclusive definition to account for all kinds of ways for beings to operate. So for the Lords, I really do believe that since they act like people and do people things that they should be considered people, even if they strictly speaking aren't humans. And I do this because... You know... Historically and even now, the moment that somebody stops treating others as people, that's when atrocities happen. I'm not going to close my mind to the idea that non-human entities can be people, so who am I to say that a mold parasite isn't a person? I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and a chance to not hurt people. And if they are a person, hopefully they can recognize that not hurting one another is a mutually beneficial beneficial relationship and can open up a dialogue for understanding one another. As for me... If a parasite were to replace me... Yeah, it sucks that I died, but I wouldn't hold it against the parasite if it wasn't something they could control as is the case with the Lords. Mother Miranda was the one who infected these people, it's not like the cadou had a say in the matter. So long as it doesn't hurt anyone, I would want it to live as happy and safe of a life as they can. And I would hope that the people I love would offer them that same level of compassion. The lives lost in the past can't be brought back. But I would rather preserve the lives of the present than avenge the lives of the past by taking the life of someone who really didn't have a choice or say in being complicit with that death in the first place. Being forced into a position like that would make that parasite a victim in a way as well.

Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, if you want to see a different piece of media that kinda explores some of what we've discussed here that has influenced how I see this subject matter, I would recommend Parasyte. It's a manga series but has an anime adaptation called Parasyte -the maxim- that I rather likes and does a good job of modernizing this manga from the 80's into the modern(ish) day (it was released in 2014 so it will be a bit dated) if you would prefer to watch and not read. Like Resident Evil, it's also a piece of science fiction horror that includes man-made bioweapons (at least that's what the manga implies) that eat human beings! Not zombies, but if you like Resident Evil already, I can easily see this scratching a similar itch. (Also apparently Resident Evil 4 actually ripped this series off lol)

Just... In the end, on principal I can never bring myself to agree with a worldview that says that how an individual acts is solely based upon their nature. I believe that it's the wrong way to look at people and that people must also be products of their environment, not just their genetics. I do want to remind everyone that the argument that people are solely their nature and genetics could and has been used as an argument for eugenics in the past, and so I want to steer as clear from that kind of thinking much as possible. Besides, the idea that we are slaves to our nature and there is therefore no free will irks me to the very core of my being and always will. If Rose can be different, and the game is very much telling us that she can, then that chance should be extended to the Lords. They are all made of the same stuff after all, right? They were all subjects made from the Megamycete, so why can Rose be the only exception? But those are just my thoughts, views, and beliefs, and you are welcome to disagree. (Though if you believe in eugenics, get the fuck out of here, you are not welcome.)

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danideservedbetter · 3 years

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Alright so, here’s how things are gonna work.

First off, welcome to this side blog. Since it won’t be jolly fun fandom content and will be a little more personal I decided to separate my health and writing journey from my fandom stuff, although all my fandom content will still be linked on my main blog here.

(I write Izuocha/bnha content which isn’t super popular so if you’re not here for that then yeah, I don’t blame you. But if you are I have a link to our discord and community content pinned so def check it out if you’re interested.)

Secondly, you guys will hear details about stuff relating to my health like what kinds of things affect my disorder based on the tests some doctors are ordering, how I’m trying to improve my diet and activity, and routines and goals I’m attempting for myself. I am underweight, and that’s something I’m going to be talking a bit about, so if that’s triggering following this blog might not be the best thing for you. Details under the cut.

So, what kind of disorder do I have and why did I decide to make a health journey blog? My disorder is called idiopathic hypersomnia. Basically what that means is that when my disorder is acting up (based on factors like stress especially or my generalized anxiety rearing its ugly head) I have the capacity to sleep. And sleep and sleep and sleep and sleep. My longest recorded uninterrupted “sleep-attack” was 26 hours long and ever since I caught Covid in January, my body had been slowly growing weaker to the point I was starting to develop atrophy. I’ve had this ten years and my neurologist suspects inactive cells from mononucleosis I caught at 14 was the cause, because other IH patients have linked their sleeping problems to a case of mono or have had it at some point in their lives.

This disease stole many years and many things I’ve looked forward to from me. I lost friends and experiences and failed so many college classes I had to drop out.

I’ve decided I’m taking them back.

It’s not going to be easy. Just as it took ten years to convince myself that my tiredness was something I chose to give into, it took several extra years and many fights with my family to convince them that I had a real actual neurological disorder and that I need help sometimes. My parents and grandmother finally understand that I have to finish college and find a very special boss willing to work around my erratic progress on projects, but the outsiders they married are not as convinced. My grandmother’s husband kicked me out of their house because he wants to be the center of attention and doesn’t like that some days I’m so weak that I needed my grandmother’s help, and my father’s wife thinks I’m a lazy and ungrateful leech who “gets anxiety just being around” me. Both told my father I’ll never be happy so why even bother with me, but my dad is actually striving to understand his own recently-diagnosed PTSD so while we still butt heads he’s understanding that I have to take things day by day because every tiny circumstance affects my disorder.

Now, why did I decide to air all this out? Well, being open about my disorder and how it affects me has helped at least two people that I know of find out that the tiredness they experience isn’t the typical “American work force exhaustion” they were trained to believe is normal. So if I can help even one more, I’ll gladly talk about what this entails and how I deal with it day to day. Another reason is that I’m also one of those big advocates who believes talking candidly about mental health destigmatizes it and sharing ideas can help us grow as people and maybe make it a little easier to deal with.

So now that you know a little bit about me and my disorder, here are my big goals for the next three months provided my university takes pity on me and actually lets me go back.

First up: create routines to train my body to get used to living a full day fully awake. This includes waking up at the same time and going to sleep at the same time. It means getting dressed and going out and doing things, even little things— which I’ll get to in a sec.

Second: I write. I have a novel in limbo and I write fanfics. Writing is a big part of who I am and I’ve written one thing this year, which for a whole six-month stretch is upsetting and disappointing. Today is my reset. In the next 569 days I want to to finish the six stories I have in limbo (except the larger one) and finally reach my goal of posting 200k words in a single year. I wont be hard on myself if I can’t accomplish this because honestly finishing anything in the chaos of my life is going to be a miracle but. There ya go.

Third: go back to freakin college. I don’t care what it takes. Sit down with every official, every lawyer, and every professor it takes to get me back enrolled in classes in the fall.

Fourth: I have several smaller things I have to do, short term goals, stuff like that. I’m gonna create a to do list each day of small tasks I want to get done and while some of these things will be part of my daily routine I am throwing in like one or two things a day that just need to be done. My writing goal will change daily and I’ll keep y’all updated on that with every post I make.

Now, I know what you’re thinking. Dani! That’s so much!! Well, a few months ago I remembered hey!! I basically have a computer in my hand, why make it hard on myself. So I downloaded certain apps to help me out. This isn’t me saying “hey go subscribe to these apps because I said so” it’s just that through a lot of trial and error I’ve come to find that these certain apps work for me and I’ve yet to come across one that has the functionality of everything I need.

Tiimo — so this is an app I found developed by people with autism for people with autism to help them develop good habits and routines. It has preset daily schedules (things like morning routines or nightly routines or work routines) and an internal alarm to let you know when to move on to the next task. I myself have extremely low-level aspergers (to the point where my doctor won’t give me an official diagnosis because I didn’t want people think that *it’s* the reason I have issues with school), so moving from task to task can be difficult sometimes and I also deal with getting distracted. This widget also appears on my home screen so I know what I have to do at a glance. You can program in weekly and daily tasks to fully customize your schedule, which is fantastic for someone like me who wants to for example rotate chores. This is hopefully going to help me get my body in the habit of adjusting to routines and transitioning from one task to another, as well as getting important things done responsibly.

Promptly Journals — I’ve been told for a while that journaling is helpful mentally to kind of recenter yourself, so a bit ago I downloaded several journal apps to add to my morning routine. Now some will prefer more creatively free journals, but I prefer this one that gives me small prompts I can do in a short amount of time that just allows me to get my thoughts down. I can even add pictures at the bottom that go with the theme! I’m scared I’ll run out of prompts eventually lol but until then this app works very well for my needs.

Stretchingexercise — Now idk if it’s from lack of sleep from my disorder, the position I sleep in when I do sleep, all the physical labor I’ve had to do in the past couple weeks, my medicine, or w h a t but I suffer from body aches like no one would believe. I know stretching is supposed to help with that, so I downloaded this app to help me do non-demanding physical activity that wakes me up in the mornings and helps relieve pain so I don’t keep having to take pain relievers. This one has different plans for things like muscle tension, back pain, warm ups— and it also gives you rudimentary weight updates (I’m underweight lololol so we’re looking to fix that) or plan updates. It’s worked really well for me so far and gives you animations and descriptions of the workouts (some taken from yoga) as well as timed breaks and a narrated guide. It’s been pretty helpful in temporary relief and if nothing else gets my blood flowing in the mornings.

Widgetsmith Step counter — in addition to the stretching thing one thing my doctor and I discussed that helps with the sedentary lifestyle is simply walking. I’ve needed so bad to relieve my stamina and reverse the atrophy, and walks have been stellar for that. Now I live in the New Orleans area so humidity and heat force me to go at the crack of Dawn, but honestly my weenie dachshund Charlie really enjoys our time out so he goes with me! The CDC recommends 10,000 steps a day which seems like a lot and it is if you don’t get out much. But this gives me an excuse to get dressed and do the hygienic thing and help Charlie be healthy too, as well as give me time for brainstorming because we walk in a truly beautiful area. I’m sure everyone installed widgetsmith with the last iOS update (Apple users anyway) and while at first the step counter was just interesting I’ve since come to rely on it! We do our 5000 in the morning, which of course is half, and I find that other things I do throughout the day typically drive the counter higher. Anything leftover can easily be accomplished by an evening walk in our neighborhood. Now the caveat is that I have to remote have my phone in my pocket because I don’t own a watch or anything fancy lol, but honestly I need to keep it on me anyway so that serves as a good reminder.

Todoist — this one is my FAVORITE. Ever since I’ve decided that I have trouble keeping track of things I need to do and small stuff I need to keep in mind and appointments, etc, I decided to find a list app. This is the one I found that absolutely helps me for everything from my list of room supplies I need to buy, to my reading list, to general tasks I have coming up I need to complete. And its widget functionality keeps it right on my Home Screen! More organized individuals can just use tiimo, but I’m definitely not one of those individuals so this app is sorely needed and appreciated.

And of course, I know building habits the first few weeks is HARD. So for days my body doesn’t respond to my alarms, I have a checklist of the key things I have to do to keep my life as functional as possible.

So that’s that on that. I’m going to try to keep writing updates and my daily goals in a post in the morning, and reblog what I accomplished in the evening. It’s gonna be tough. But I’m thinking if I can start small I’ll be able to build my stamina enough to return to college and be successful when I do. I hope that anyone watching this journey draws some kind of meaning or inspiration from it. And you guys can even follow along if y’all want! Especially for writers or people trying to get healthier. I can’t promise what works for me will work for you (and honestly I expect things to change especially if I get accepted into college again) but hey, I figure it’s worth a shot.

I hope you guys enjoy watching this journey, if nothing else I hope it’s entertaining. And maybe it’ll be successful. I do know that I’m just gonna try for it, and hope it works out.

First daily update to follow

Xoxo

Dani

#idiopathic hypersomnia #health and wellness #writing challenge

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zero-rider · 4 years

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A grim truth

This wasn't supposed to happen

His original idea was to face Salem as much as he could so his friends could leave Atlas before it fell in Mantle, which it was okay with him, since all the civilians were evacuated from both Atlas and Mantle and were being staying in many Atlas ships by the order of the new general of Atlas; Winter Schnee, they were also being protected by what remains of the Ace-ops and Penny with her still newly winter maiden powers. He also planned to fall along with Atlas and Salem if he didn't make it, but if his Aura and semblance could take the fall, then he would be more than fine in his book, it also would be more than fine if she just struggle to get out of the debris of Atlas while they escape,

But in just some minutes, his plan failed. His Aura could only took 5 hits form her magic, 4 if you didn't count an ice stalactite that was tanked by his semblance and reduced his Aura to 1%. Atlas was falling faster than he though and he just got a call from Ruby that everyone of his friends were searching for him, so the idea of them leaving Atlas in one piece was a colossal no right now. There was also the factor that three Seers were keeping him in the ground with his face on the dirt and in front of the queen of the Grimm, he was still panting and searching for an opportunity to escape from the Seers tight hold

"don't fight it, they will tighten their hold on you the more you fight" Salem smiled while holding and inspecting Jaune's sword, the same shining and sharp metal that cut her head four minutes ago "an excellent blade for an incompetent huntsmen, looks like Ozma has been lowering his standards about his soldiers"

"funny you say that, because i remember this incompetent huntsmen cutting your head minutes ago. With that said, i think i'm a pretty good huntsman" smugly replied the blond before he was kicked in the face by the pale woman

"you bragging about that little mistake? oh my, Ozma really has really lower his standards. I'll admit, you lasted longer than the previous Ozma pawn who faced me, i'll give you that" she chuckle, then she walked slowly to the almost broken shield from Jaune, just a short distance away from him

"why, thank you. i would have last longer, but i wasn't prepared to face a magical old hag" the blond said, before he was slapped by one of the seers and caused a little cut on his right cheek

"do you have a death wish or something?" she shook her head in disapproval, holding the faced-downd shield "youngsters these days. anyway, i know from two certain agent of mine, that you are quite close to that silver-eyes spawn, so i believe that i can ask a certain question. how do you activate the Relic of Knowledge"

"you have to say immas ucke-uuughh!" the seers tighten their hold on Jaune and he was lifted to the same level as Salem's face, whose red and black eyes were looking straight at him

"wrong answer, i will say it one more time and slowly so you could understand. How. do. you. activate. the Relic. of Knowledge" Salem took the shield and inspectione it, it surprised her the weight a little, but the Arc family emblem was what took her attention. It was like certain emblem in that tower she used to live, but inverted, before she was what it was now. Sadly for her, her blond prisoner still had enough energy to insult her again and suffer the consequences, and took her away from her memories momentarily

"fine, i think it was ligma-AAAAAAAHHHHH!!" this time he was meet with a little (in her words) thunder from her. She didn't even looked at him when she fire it, she just looked again to his shield and with some hand moves, a diamond was put in his shield, in the middle of the inverted emblem

Something hit her in that moment, it was a still existing pain in her chest that was later replaced with joy for a few moments, then sadness took the joy's place. If what she thought was true, then her daughters (or at least one) could have lived after that explosion of magic that take them from her. Many thoughts came to her mind about what could had happened so one or all her daughters could have survived in that moment, many were about Ozma hiding their daughters from her. Just a few were about none of them knowing that their children were alive, and they left them before checking if they were alive. But that could take her mind another time, right now it was about her descendant and how she was torturing him

She droped the shield, and the Seers released a confused jaune, who touched his jaw to feel any other damage apart from the kick from her and kneeled to recover from the still fresh thunder he received. Salem, on her part, was having an internal struggle. She was just looking at him, the way his eyes and body were showing fear for the first time, the way he was trying to comprehend what was happening and why Salem didn't used a Grimm to turn him in nothing more than just a pile of flesh, and how he was screaming mentally at himself to run. It got worse when she began to cry

"my family... i'm trying to kill my family again... just like thousands of years ago" tears leaked from her eyes, just as her bloody red eyes looked deep at his sapphire blue ones. Nostalgia came, it was like watching at her youngest daughter again, only turned into a boy, but the resemblance was evident

"your... family? what. what are you talking about?" his question was not answered, for something worse than a truth was now to take place

"it can't be... Ozma, he... Ozma!" hell broke loose, she released all kind of spells destroying constructions and even creating more craters in the destroyed streets of Atlas "HOW DARE YOU USE OUR CHILDREN AGAINST ME, OZMA?!!" what she did was like a light spectacle. Fire, thunder, ice, earth, wind and any other elements where shooted to all directions from her hands, mouth and eyes, she didn't even spare one of her Seers, but strangely, not a single hair was touched from him, but that didn't took the possibility of a stray attack coming his way, after all, he didn't had Aura and an attack with that kind of magnitude would kill him immediately

After what it felt like an eternity, she calmed herself enough to give a mental order to her seers to leave them alone or dissapear, which they did the second with out an objection and left after their labour was complete. Jaune for his part, was still scared and on his knees, the sovereign of the grimm used all her power to vent for her anger at Ozpin in front of his face, she decimated an entire block of Atlas in her anger with just one of her spells, the other only did craters deeper than the previous one in erratic shoots of magic. All that show of her power made him understand a little the ex-headmaster of Heaven academy, if her power scared him for almost destroyed Atlas in her irrational anger, then what a rational Salem could do with all that magic made him tremble

and suddenly, his worries and fears were lost after a single question from her part "what's your name, my child? i need, no... i must know the name of my family"

"fa... family?" he was lost of words, scared of the implications and he was hyperbelint

"yes, my child. You are my family" Salem, for the first time in millenia, truly smiled, a bright smile showed and more tears filled her eyes, this times were tears of happiness

"that, that's impossible. Ruby and, Ozpin said-" he was cut from his rambling, as his belief were being proven by Salem, who was now walking with her arms spread, waiting for a hug he didn't wanted, but was too shocked to even try to fight it

"oh please, Ozma always liked to keep his secrets well hidden. Just look at me, if people knew about my existence, do you think we would had this conversation? Would you be alive or would you be dead?. Who knows? Maybe you could have had a good life if it wasn't for Ozma's silence, but not anymore" she broked the hug and stroked his hair, like his mother used to when he was a younger and more tiny, now he recieved from his many-greats grandmother "your name, darling, tell me you name"

"Jaune... Arc" certain memories inside him made sense in that moment, why he was admitted in Beacon even with his fake transcripts in first place, why was he named team leader and why Tyrian was interested in him. Was he there because Ozpin wanted? Did Ozpin made him team leader for a master plan he had in the moment? he didn't knew it, but... a part of him told him that he did

"then, Jaune Arc, accept this gift from me" her ivory hand came to his chestplate and without much effort, she tear it from his body, then she put the same hand in his chest "AWAKE!"

His chest began to hurt and some weird black liquid enraptured his body, he felt good, it was relaxing and for some reason, he forgot why he was afraid, so his mind just sleep, he was safe, he was fine and he would obey. Then, the black liquid over his body become a black under suit, his white and gold gloves changed to a white and red armored gloves that covered all his arm and with sharp nails that resembled claws on his fingers. His foots also got white and red armored protection that covered all his legs and toe caps that looked like feets of a beast, with a white armored belt over his waist with the Salem/Arc emblem in the middle painted black instead of yellow. His chestplate came next, this one was more stylish than his previous one, the area of the pectorals were bulky and had red pattern over them that looked like roots and a yellow gem bellow the pectorals

Just when he was about to receive his helmet, a well known voice for him came to his ears "JAUNE!" it was Ruby, who first looked at her friend with a worried look, then she looked at the Grimm queen with hate "leave him alone!!" the red tipped haired girl sayed before she deployed Crescent Rose and taked a shoot at Salem's head, who recieved with a smile

"a silver-eyed girl descendant of Ozpin trying to save my descendant. Ironic" she said, still with her hand in the armored chest of her descendant, whose look was in the floor

"desc- Jaune's your descendant!?" Ruby lowered her weapon a little, shocked but not fully believing the words of her enemy

"that's right, silver eyes, your beloved... friend, i guess? is my family. Please, show her, my child" Salem patted his armored shoulder and stood from her previous posture, letting Jaune stood

"yes, mother" Ruby gasped at his face, his previous saphire eyes were now blood red eyes with black sclera and black veins coming from his eyes. there was also some white hairs in his previous blond hair and his hair was the same when she meet him for the first time, long and messy, instead of his spiky short hair

Before she could even mutter a word, his face was covered by white helmet with sharp fangs, long wolf like ears, some simulated fur made with the same white metal coming from the sides, it was practically a wolf helmet showing his fangs with yellow eyes.

He would later took his sword from the floor and gave it a new form with the black liquid, it was more longer, had black root like patterns in the blade and the guard of the sword was replaced with what it looked like bat wings

This wasn't Jaune anymore, not the one who was always for her when she feeled down, the one who cried when they meet again in Argus and not the same vomit boy she was falling for. this was... as much it broke her heart, another Grimm, one she didn't and hoped never to face. His sword was lifted in order for a horizontal strike, but his target moved faster than him and avoided his attack to recover the shield of Jaune, with the diamond shape thing out of the arcs of his emblem. She hugged the shield and gived the armored man a last look, before the tears could leak from her eyes and used her semblance to get away

"Ru...by..." his distortioned voice was the last she heard before flee from there at the max of her speed, with Jaune's previous shield in her hands and her heart breaking on her chest

#rwby #Jaune Arc #salem #ruby rose #rwby lancaster #lancaster #jaune is salem's descendant theory #Grimm!Jaune

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sugar-petals · 3 years

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Can you tell us how to please a soft sub and hard sub? Like what could a guy enjoy?

it’s 95% individual, i’d ask + negotiate before ideas for play. i can suggest scenes but still, it might not be his limits. to remember is what differenciates the two: hard subs enjoy pain + power, soft subs don’t.

you can likely please the latter if you’re a gentle femdom aficionado. still depends on what kind of GFD you like, but you can grow into the role you agree on, shift. it’s a bit easier: fewer prerequisites. ofc there’s etiquette + talent, but you can please by tuning into the role pretty well.

the former: not as flexible. there are set qualities. understand this as a ‘needed with good reason’ profile rather than gatekeeping. sadism is the requirement. no 50-50 zone, you feeling that you are a natural is key. your sub won’t be happy if you merely try it. it’s usually clear to a domme anyways, you either lick your fingers for s/m or not.

↳ as for specific kinks. what i can give you is a list of things to AVOID for each.💡it’s a roundabout way to see what he prefers and each sub’s a different case but it’s a compass.

✏︎ soft subs — don’ts

hair-pulling -> choose fondles and pats instead wherever he likes it the most.

name-calling -> praise is usually preferred

yelling -> whispering/soft-spoken, this is an asmr zone ☁️

hard spanking -> lighter squeezes

no squishy props -> use pillows, blankets, plushies if he wants. but, in any case, you’ll need pillows. can’t have enough of those.

tears -> only as a spontaneous release [during aftercare], most soft subs aren’t into dacryphilia

chaos -> soft subs love consistency.

too much genitalia focus -> don’t forget the smooches and forehead kisses, and massages possibly. if he likes that, tend to seemingly neglegible body parts even, like ears and toes. boop the nose.

toy overwhelm -> back to basics, never forget he loves your hands. idea: choose pastels for color if you do get toys. dramatic black/red/metal is for the hardcore femdom department and suits the mood better. you likely have that preference already if you strictly soft dom.

breath play -> stick to neck kisses. mouth gags, same thing, he probably isn’t comfortable with it.

leaving marks -> 50-50, again, ask what kind you can and cannot leave. if he likes it, do 20% marks, 80% affection.

pragmatic, planned aftercare -> make it extensive + adapt easily. seems counterintuitive since hard subs take a lot more, but let me tell you soft subs think aftercare is literal catnip. if you’re a big brain domme, you transfer some aftercare favorites to the main act. also, about pragmatism: unlike with hard subs (see list below: #21), come up with a more fine-tuned safeword/limit system. these are play scenes where you can go into many different directions so that’s why.

straightforward -> it’s no problem if you’re the indirect or shy type as a domme, it’s about careful questions toward him here. many soft subs approach their dommes well with wishes. ironically, hard subs are the other way around, they might anticipate more unless they’re very extroverted. the biggest hard subs were the quiet kiddos at school 😉 soft subs can be bubbly and reveal their demands rather easily.

deprioritize your orgasm -> make him tend to you in a lazy, slow demeanour. spoil each other.

all over the place -> stick to bedroom bed, bathtub and couch unless otherwise requested. the point is to have a safe and comfortable spot.

breaking him -> never push, always guide. again, consistency, no highs and lows.

suppressing critique -> he wants to know where to improve, show him exactly how to do things the right way and work with mistakes. not humiliating, more like teaching.

dungeon -> keep it above ground.

hands-on ownership -> show him he belongs to you in other ways. spoil him, that’s the best way.

high heels -> too impractical for 80% of GFD activities. fetish gear generally doesn’t work here. just mentioning, it’s probably already clear to everyone. and, purely soft dommes don’t gravitate towards dominatrix fashion in the first place.

passive -> unlike with hard subs, you likely do a lot of the work. soft dommes are busier than people expect.

atmosphere? -> switch on the fairy lights, candles, make it dim. make it as romantic as possible.

power imbalance -> air to breathe for any hard sub, but soft subs prefer flatter hierarchies. mind you, your position is still one of guidance.

✏︎ hard subs — don’ts

tender voice > grit and growl in their ear aye

questions > proportion-wise, give more commands instead.

no tools -> introduce some devices according to your couple taste.

lenience -> tame that provocateur 😄 you define where his place is. show him, physically. under your foot, kneeling, bowing? find that perfect position for the two of you.

only caressing > choke and slap him, but ask/announce right beforehand.

unbridled aggression -> misguided way of dominance unless it’s primal play. i know it’s more negatively connotated but deliberate brutality is the word, you exact it while keeping rather cool. unless... he fancies you as the angry mistress, or passionate, punishing. but then again, no aggression. just brutality. the difference is huge. the more sadistic the play, the more contained your action. not all understated, just very directed and according to how you spoke about it, and according to the feedback in front of you. you get perfect awareness, not dizzy tunnel vision and fluctuating feelings. i say brutality because it indicates a person knows what they’re doing. aggression and anger means you bottle your judgement. the brain switches off there, it gets too erratic. also, aggression is less severe and a means to an end while brutality is for its own sake and goes heavy which is what hard subs enjoy: since they’re masochists. aggressive and violent dommes are just assholes, brutal hard dommes... are good dommes. 😛

free reign clothes -> tell him what type of outfit makes him domme candy. experiment plenty. don’t worry, most hard subs enjoy being told what to wear. and even if they don’t, suggesting it won’t piss them off. also, you can get strict and exacting as fuck with this. hard subs want your possessiveness in creative ways.

plain undressed -> chances are CFNM could be a hot idea sometimes, or fetish wear which is often appreciated in all things hardcore. then again, dressing up is no must, but definitely try all-black outfits, suits etc, whatever makes you radiate authority and the upper hand. remember, hierarchy. your superiority is what he enjoys during sex, he actually gets confused if you don’t show it in your particular way. if it’s not clothes, it’s the voice, anyway. the voice lives in his head rent free.

no control -> full body attention, grope him the way he likes. also, the nape of his neck is where your hand belongs. guiding his head is just...mmh ❤️

monotony -> hard subs like a rollercoaster. roleplay = perfect opportunity.

static plans -> important: hard subs learn fast. since pain-pleasure is involved their sensations are more intense so feedback is usually unequivocal. mind you, soft subs can sort their preferences well but for them it takes exposure to variety.

what’s a nipple? -> pinching and more is most likely welcome. ask and test.

spoiling -> spoiling no. rewards, yes. he works for it. what does he work towards? pleasing you completely. in your body and commands.

shy domme -> when it comes down to it, you need to be resolute and eloquent. if you struggle with it, e.g. start with being stoic. pick your favorite pokerface and have a signature smirk lmao! and definitely do in-depth talks. yes, about his desires. unlike soft subs, some guys take more time to open up here.

dry -> lube. keep it wet, especially his tear ducts anyway.

unsure experiments/not knowing the outcome -> seriously tackle and prepare skills. yes, whip your pillow first. you can ‘try’ things with soft subs, but you ‘do’ things with hard subs. why? less room for errors. you please him by being precise. don’t let it intimidate you, simply take it as a responsibility he respects you greatly for.

heels -> hard subs might like that. plus, you’ll often simply stand. he does lots of the work. hard dommes can be more laid-back than you’d expect. remember, you kick his ass and give orders. he’s a pretty active party. exception: he’s tied up.

hesitation -> hard dommes have to be quick. especially since we edge a lot. also, never hesitate to praise.

forgetting skin -> stimulate large areas as much as you can.

unarmed -> chances are he likes knife play, ask about it.

too much caution and pampering -> an insult to his esteem. i’m not kidding. he feels in his element when you don’t hold back anxiously. trust his strength 😊 it’s a perk of femdom in the first place, you may be working on more muscles and often more space on the body, most maledoms don’t have that luxury. the same goes for safewording, keep it simple and applicable for the heat/reflex of the moment. it’s counterproductive to be overcautious since it makes it too complex.

the usual spot -> if he’s down: play everywhere, consider every room together. a cold and hard surface does something for a hard sub. as does rug burn if he likes that. make him do all kinds of things 100% naked on a carpet while you watch, it’s so humiliating. i did it, the result was my sub discovering even higher levels of sluttiness.

suppression -> ask him to let it out vocally when he’s shy or not experienced. you’ll both love what follows. most hard subs are screamers. i hope you don’t have neighbors.

soft illumination -> use artificial light. not just to make your patient - doctor roleplay perfect, but because a hard domme needs to see what she’s doing for safety reasons already. use your (soy wax!) candles to ruin his back instead.

serious -> hardcore femdom is at its best when it’s peppered with little giggles. bring a feather just in case.

PS: these can even apply if they enjoy doing both, you have to match your tone according to the mood and plan then.

#anon #ask #cub mail 🐆#d/s talk #long post #d/s ed #d/s etiquette

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babyybitchhh · 2 years

Text

I decided to watch a few episodes of DB before bed (I just finished episode 82) and I really want to talk about how wildly erratic Vegeta’s behavior has been this entire arc. 😂 Like, during the Saiyan arc he was much more stable in that he was pretty set in his ways, he didn’t really flip flop between one state of mind or another, and even when he clearly should have second guessed what he was doing he didn’t. He just kept pushing on with whatever it was while wholeheartedly believing he was right and all powerful despite getting his shit rather thoroughly rocked, which is relatively admirable imo.

Right from the start of the Namek arc though he’s been all over the goddamn place. He switches up at the drop of a dime with seemingly no rhyme or reason, his mood changes just as fast, he will literally swing from overconfident gloating to almost jittery nervousness and then right back to cocky surety again. He doesn’t even really seem to have a solid plan laid out and just makes shit up as he goes which in turn leads to very impulsive decision making on his end. Like … the way he keeps switching up on Gohan and Krillin? Lmao It kills me every goddamn time. And no matter how he tries to internally justify it (“We might actually have a chance of winning if it’s three against one!”) that doesn’t exactly explain why he’s going about it this way, nor does it make sense for him to then turn around and try to throw them under the bus. I swear it’s like he’s having a manic episode (can relate) and this insanity he just pulled out of his ass telling Krillin to attack him until he’s half dead? Y’all … this man is insane! Never mind what his logical reasoning is here, that is just crazy talk! You don’t even know if Dende will be willing to heal you after all the bullshit you’ve pulled, come on my guy. 😂

Tbh I saw a post talking about this back when I first started looking at his tag and I wish I could find it again because it pretty thoroughly went over why Vegeta’s characterization/personality changes so much between arcs and honestly I didn’t even really believe it at the time but now I’m like, yeah that was just gospel, actually. Lol And yes I understand the position Toriyama was in by bringing Vegeta into the fray after his massive popularity spike during what was, I assume, supposed to be a one off villain appearance but I just think he could have felt the situation out a little more … mindfully. That is just to say having these moments where he does a complete 180 leaves an odd taste in the back of my throat, and I don’t see why they were included or what they amount to when I know perfectly well how he is after this. And like I don’t fault him for trying to run from Frieza, my bitch ass would have been the first one gone, you feel me? ✋😩 But then I’m well aware that further down the line he absolutely stands up to opponents who are stronger than him, people he has a low probability of beating, and he does it all with a cocky smirk. I saw enough of the Cell and Buu arcs back in the day to have a tentative grasp on how he is later on in the series, so this just isn’t adding up right now.

And frankly this unhinged behavior from him is just not it. What is the reason? I suppose I could kind of see if being beaten by Goku really did just shatter his worldview to the point that he’s actively having some kind of mental crises that leads to his super erratic thoughts and choices, but then how is it he’s playing nice nice with Krillian and Gohan, and even Goku without flying off into a psychotic rage? He seems to be present of mind enough to keep his shit somewhat together, at least outwardly, but then he acts like he’s bipolar. In short

*I started typing this up last night and just dead ass knocked out before I could finish my train of thought 😂 actually forgot all about it until just now, and no I don’t remember what my ‘in short’ thought process was but …

After completing episode 83 WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY

Vegeta asking Krillin to blast him did not make an ounce of sense when he had no way of knowing if Dende would even heal him at all, and low and behold what happened? Dende told that man he wouldn’t heal him! Oh! I am so mad at Vegeta 😂 You did not think that through even a little bit, king. Why on earth would you ever be so confident that the kid who’s people you’ve slaughtered just the same as Frieza did would graciously heal you to the point where you didn’t even let him in on your little plan first to see if he’d even be on board with it to begin with? I love Vegeta but goddamn, he is acting like a downright idiot in this arc. It’s not even a manic episode, this is straight up himbo shit right here.

#baby bitch watches dragon ball

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hankwritten · 3 years

Text

Immaterial Witness

Demoman/Soldier, 5k

Request for r2mich2, Ghosthunting

Demo was less than thrilled about being selected for mandatory company ghost-busting work. His enthusiasm dropped even lower when he saw who’d be accompanying him.

“You!” he exclaimed.

“You!” Soldier replied. “Except with a different inflection! To indicate I am also not happy to see you!”

“Bloody hell,” Demo groaned as the looked at the man before him. “Jesus of all the BLU’s she could have picked for a ‘cross team eradication venture’, and she went with you.”

“I didn’t agree to this either, maggot,” Soldier assured him. “I am under orders not to strangle any REDs until this mission is complete, but my tractability will be put to the test if said RED is such a weakling and liar.”

“For the last time, I never called you a-”

“And what about all the things you did say, you son of a bitch?”

Demo scowled, not looking forward to going through the same recycled arguments over again. She had some nerve putting the two of them together after what she’d put them through; complete and total destruction of a friendship, and for what? Just to decide TF Industries was going to be managing both teams a few months later? It was a load of crap if Demo ever heard it.

“What are you even wearing?” he scoffed at Soldier’s new uniform.

“This is regulation specter pummeling gear, you sissified maggot scum!” Soldier puffed up proudly. Gone was the red jacket and fatigues, instead superseded by a singular beige jumpsuit.

“And what’s that?” Demo pointed to the canister vacuum strapped to his back. No bells, no whistles, just a regular old vacuum with a flexible nozzle.

“Ghost sucker,” Soldier said plainly.

“Right. Obviously.”

“Well what did you bring RED?” Soldier accused. “These ghosts are going lift you up by your frilly little underthings and fling you right out the door if you do not have anything to protect yourself from their disembodied maliciousness!”

“I,” Demo said, flexing his fist, “have this.”

Engineer had built it with such efficiency, Demo was sure he’d made the blueprints years ago and was just waiting for someone to ask for a ghost-capturing device. The device’s visual design was similar to that of the gunslinger, but instead of a limb replacement, it functioned more like power armor, cradling the outside of the wearer’s hand and increasing their grip tenfold.

“This ‘lil beauty has everything,” Demo continued haughtily. “EKG readings, built in spooktralizer, and-” He pulled back his fingers, activating the now-glowing disk in the center of his palm. “Anti-gravity net. No spirit’s going to escape this vortex, which is a good thing because you can’t suck up a ghost with a vacuum cleaner.”

“Shows how much you know, buster,” Soldier said. “All those doodads won’t do jack when you are staring into the blood-red eyes of a flesh-hungry phantom—these are creatures of the other side! Of the great beyond! They do not care about technology.”

“Oh aye?” Despite himself, Demo got right into Soldier’s face. “We’ll se about that when my power glove’s saving your sorry arse from having spectral boot shoved up it.”

“I will take that bet, princess,” Soldier spat back.

“Uuhhhhhhhhhhgggggggggg,” a new voice cut into the conversation. “If I have to sit through another one of your lover’s spats I’m going to kill myself. Again.”

Soldier’s eyes narrowed, fixating on something over Demo’s shoulder. “Oh great. The sword is here.”

“Yes! The sword is here!” the Eyelander chirped sarcastically. “And since I’m bloody gracing you with my company, you can do me a favor and get on with this thing. We’ve been standing out here for ten minutes.”

“It’s right,” Demo admitted as Soldier continued to stare daggers at the weapon strapped to his back. “Let’s head in.”

Demo didn’t wait to see if Soldier followed him as he took his first creaking step onto the house’s porch; by company orders, they were stuck together for now, no matter how much bad blood ran between them.

“So why are we clearing this place of ghosts anyway?” Eyelander asked as Demo pushed in the front door. The doubles groaned with an appropriate level of eeriness.

“The Voice’s orders,” he shrugged. “She wants this for a new battleground, but she wants it ghost free. Apparently there’ve been too many complaints about the past few Halloweens for her liking.”

“Really?” Eyelander said aghast. “Who doesn’t like Halloween?”

“Eh. Some of the mercs think it’s too random. Chaotic, hard to focus on what’s going on. They don’t like all the candy packs and the fact that idiot in a robe shows up and turns a ten minute match into a thirty minute nightmare.” At the last, he eyed Soldier over his shoulder.

“Do not look at me!” Soldier barked. “That isn’t my fault!”

“Yes it is! Last time he even said ‘SOLDIER THIS IS YOUR FAULT!’ as he was dropping bombs on our heads!”

“Well I am not the only causer-of-halloween-related-problems in this company,” Soldier said, jogging to get ahead of Demo to block his path. “The giant floating eyeball with red wig and child-sized overalls certainly wasn’t mine.”

Demo rubbed his face. “Jesus, just forget it. The only reason we have to tolerate each other is because there’s some soul with soon-to-be-finished business lurking around here, and we picked the short straw. So let’s find whatever apparition, spirit, or poltergeist is squatting in this dump and get out of each other’s hair.”

About to offer some stupid retort, Soldier was abruptly cut off as Eyelander yelped, “w-wait! Poltergeists?? You didn’t say anything about those arseholes!”

Demo and Soldier exchanged a look.

Soldier leveled a frown at the Eyelander. “You are a ghost, maggot. How on God’s green earth are you afraid of ghosts?”

“I’m afraid of poltergeists, eejit,” Eyelander snapped back. “You don’t bloody mess with a geist unless you want your immortal soul turned to shreds and left to wander the infinite abyss forever.”

“Whatever, this is getting us nowhere.” Demo pushed past Soldier. “C’mon. We’ve got a job to do.”

As he passed under the precarious looking chandelier overseeing the foyer, Soldier murmured, “tch. Only ever got the job. Typical.” Demo pretended he hadn’t heard.

What he did hear—over the sounds of the Eyelander whining about powerful forces they didn’t understand and eventually sinking into resigned grumble—was the sound of an organ playing in the deep bowels of the manor.

“Thirty bucks says there’s no one playing it when we get there,” Demo said.

“Deal,” Eyelander replied.

They readied their weapons. Well, not exactly weapons (and definitely not weapons in Soldier’s case, as he strangled his vacuum’s hose in a viselike grip), but tools that would get this bloody ghost out of here and let Demo go home for the day. His footsteps scraped decades old rugs as he padded carefully across the ground, power glove extended into the gloom before him. No readings yet, save for Eyelander’s steady thrum, but as soon as they crossed the barrier of the music room the EKG jumped like crazy.

“Called it,” Demo said as the organ continued to press down one ivory key after another, despite the only human beings in the room being the two mercs who had just entered. “Pay up, Eyelander.”

“Sure! Let me just grab my wallet.”

“Smart-arse.”

“It’s called a pommel.”

“If you two ladies are finished,” Soldier growled, drawing closer to the haunted piano, “let’s bag this ghost-maggot.”

Demo rolled his eye, sweeping to the other side of the organ that’s girth took up the entirety of the room, pipes clawing at the ceiling as wax burned down to nubs around it. “You ‘n your cleaning supplies just stand back.”

“And let you fumble our ticket out of here? I don’t think so.” Soldier flipped on his Hoover.

The glove began to gyrate in Demo’s palm. “You’re the one who’s messing this up! If you’d just believe me when I tell you something-”

“How can I believe you when your history of treachery continues?”

They were nearing the organ now, the disk glowing a menacing red and the vacuum jumping like it was trying to escape Soldier’s hands. The music doubled its tempo, growing more erratic with every step the pair took toward its console.

“There is no history,” Demo spat. “I didn’t do it in the first place!”

“But you still took the contract!”

“Because you did first!”

There wasn’t so much music now as random mashing of keys, a pained wailing accompanying the stressed notes in an unholy shriek. A bolt of electricity shot from the glove collided with something on the piano seat, revealing a ghastly form in the middle of the two men.

“Maybe I would have gone back on it!” Soldier roared as he struggled to maintain control of the hose, writhing in his hands like a viper. “If you’d talked to me I would have known it wasn’t-”

“THAT SHOULDN’T BE MY RESPONSIBILITY.”

“WELL IT HAS TO BE SOMEBODY’S.”

As Soldier screamed his final words, the ghost between them joined in the crescendo. The two forces on either of its sides pulled and pulled at its edges, wind howling and light flashing until-

Demo and Soldier were thrown into opposite walls with a resounding crack.

Grimacing, Demo pushed himself up, rubbing away the white spots in his vision that their techno-vortex had left him with. When things were mostly clear, he blinked at the organ seat, finding no trace of the specter the power glove had briefly outlined.

“Did we get it?” Soldier asked, likewise suppressing aches as he got to his feet.

“Dunno.” Demo tapped a few buttons on his glove. “Well there’s only one reading now. Maybe we fried it?”

“Bag isn’t full,” Soldier noted, poking the vacuum. “Must’ve.”

“Hm. I suppose that was climactic enough. I’m fine with leaving if you are.”

“There’s nothing I want more,” Soldier said, already halfway to the door.

“Feeling’s mutual,” Demo grumbled, following him out. “Went down pretty easy, all things considered. Barely a quarter of ‘ole Merasmus’s hit points. Can’t believe Eyelander was scared of that.”

The Eyelander said nothing.

Demo stopped walking. “You alright, mate?” he asked over his shoulder to where Eyelander was sheathed.

Still, it didn’t respond. He pulled it out, a soft sssth in the now quiet music room, and held it in front of him. He was about to ask it again, when Eyelander finally blurted, “oh uh! Right, me. I’m fine, just peachy, how are you?”

Soldier paused, and turned on his heel. “RED. Why doesn’t your sword have a stupid accent anymore?”

“Uh, crap uh,” the sword sputtered. “Blimey is what I meant to say governor! Pip pip bob’s your uncle and all that!”

“You!” Demo said, squeezing the imposter ghost for all it was worth, to which it gave a tiny eep! “What have you done with Eyelander?”

“Look, this doesn’t have to be a problem right?” the geist said. “I can still be a haunted sword! And do whatever it is the old ghost did, but please don’t make me get out. I’ve been trapped in that organ for fifty years! I want to go, see the world, oh please oh please take me with you?”

“Maybe we let it,” Soldier snorted. “Can’t be any more annoying than the old one.”

“That’s not funny,” Demo snapped, then turned his singular glare to the sword. “Listen here you useless lump of ectoplasm, you tell me what you did with my friend or I’m going to turn your soul into sizzling anti-matter.”

“No!”

And to Demo’s shock, the sword went flying from his hands, shooting up into the room’s ceiling.

“No, I won’t go back!” Encased in an orange glow, the sword maneuvered under its own power, spinning wildly until it had become an airborne lawnmower blade. “Screw you guys!”

“Shite!” Demo said as he charged out after it as it went shooting into the hall.

He followed it all the way to the foyer again, sprinting around each corner just to keep it in sight, but when he arrived out of breath at the grand staircases he had to admit there was no catching it.

“Shite,” he repeated.

“What in the goddamn hell was that about?” Soldier had, of course, followed him back to the entrance. “Now we’re stuck here until we find it again. Couldn’t have withheld your groveling freak out for one damn second.”

“I wasn’t just going to let it steal Eyelander’s sword!” Demo retaliated.

“You and the fucking Eyelander,” Solder swore, helmet wobbling as a snarl curled on his features. “Always with the Eyelander. You care more about that sword than you do anyone else, and you always fucking pick it in the end.”

They were in each other’s faces once more, nose to nose as the manor creaked around them. Demo glared, and softly replied, “well maybe the sword is better company.”

That might have been the end of it any other time, but they were too close now, too entwined, and Soldier grabbed the front of Demo’s shirt. “…God damn you,” he muttered. His face rippled with something unrecognizable. “That’s what I mean. Maybe that wasn’t you in the video, but when you took that contract you started saying crap like that.”

A hard knot found itself in Demo’s throat. He ignored the beeping coming from his glove. “After hearing ‘I never liked you’ enough times, it’s hard not to believe it.”

“…We ever going to stop lying to each other?”

Demo pulled the hand from the front of his shirt. The beeping was growing incessantly loud but he blocked it out, only focusing on stamping away from the Soldier-

And not noticing when the chandelier above him gave an ominous jolt.

His head whipped up too late when the chain broke, the glove practically screaming as he froze in panic for split second-

The cacophany when the chandelier came down was earsplitting, hundreds of glass teardrops shattering on the marble floor below, crashing into each other as their frame became nothing more than a bent pile of metal. Demo wheezed, having been thrown into a solid surface for the second time in less then ten minutes, and his brain caught up enough to realize he wasn’t dead.

The Soldier, having tackled Demo to bring him out of the worse of the poltergeist’s attack, had taken the brunt of it. He winced, rolling onto the hip that didn’t have any glass stuck in it.

“Christ,” Demo hissed, staring at the broken fixture. “It really is trying to kill us now, isn’t it?”

“You threatened to atomize its soul,” Soldier grunted. “Can’t blame it.”

Demo’s eye reaffixed to the bleeding BLU, tongue catching on the question. “You-” But what was he even supposed to say?

Soldier avoided his gaze. “Shut it, maggot. This was merely a rescue based on contempt and rivalry—no one’s allowed to kill you but me, yadda yadda, you get the picture.”

“Soldier…”

Years of bitter hatred choked down whatever else he would have said, but they couldn’t stop the swell of concern as he watched blood bloom on Soldier’s jumpsuit.

“Here,” he said, getting to his knees and picking his way through the broken glass. “Let’s get you up.”

Soldier glared in suspicion. Their argument still hung hot, bar of iron glowing yet unforged, not sure what shape it was suppose to take. But the blood was moving steadily down Soldier’s leg, and with distaste he resigned himself to being lifted under one arm.

“I can do it myself, maggot,” Soldier said once Demo had helped him to the stairs and tried to push up his pant leg.

Demo stared at him for a moment, hand holding the bandage he’d torn from the jumpsuit’s opposite leg, eye unargumentative as he gazed at the Soldier. A few more seconds of reproach ticked by, but then Soldier sighed in resignation, glancing away as Demo tied up his leg.

When it was over, he wasted no time getting to his feet, refusing Demo’s arm this time. “Definitely can’t let that thing run wild now,” he said. “Get your stupid glove to tell us where it is.”

There was an obvious limp to his walk, but Demo knew he had survived worse. That Demo had put him through worse.

The Demoman tapped his wrist a few times and said, “this way.”

The second floor was just rows and rows of suits of armor. All of them identical, all of them leaning down menacingly as the mercenaries passed beneath, listening to the spooktralizer’s pulse become a steady companion. There was constant draft, a thrumming chill up Demo’s spine, and he tried to remind himself that ghosts had the power to get inside your head and trigger your fear response. The fact that the haunt had turned murderous was nothing to be worried about—that he was, in all reality, afraid of no ghost.

The nearest suit of armor vibrated, and he jumped three feet in the air.

So did Soldier, bristling like a cat and demanding, “show yourself Casper! I am not afraid of your pathetic saber rattling!”

In response, every suit in the hall lifted it arms.

Soldier yelped, and he and Demo found themselves back to back, their respective ghost hunting equipment bared in front of them. But they were surrounded, the suits jerking to life and taking their first halting steps off their pedestals, clanking stiffly at the two mercenaries. They were forced backwards, one step, then two, until suddenly Demo found himself on the ground, the creeping terror that he’d been repressing now roaring overpoweringly. It was just a mind trick, just a manipulation, but knowing that and being able to act were vastly different things—and as the ancient warriors drew closer, he reached out and clung desperately to the closest thing he could find.

Clang went the greaves in front of him, coming to a stop as the full-body rattle started again. Shaking and shaking and Demo didn’t look, burying his face in Soldier’s shoulder-

“Ayyyiiieeeeeee,” a voice screamed as something small and spectral went spinning out of the armor.

After several seconds of silence from the suits around them, Demo finally lifted his head. All the armor had gone stiff and immobile, and the only clue to their previous animation was the ghostly impression of a sword floating a few feet off the ground.

“Eyelander?” he blinked.

“Uhhhg…my rain gaurd…” the Eyelander’s apparition groaned. “What…urhg…what happened? …….And why are you two cuddling?”

Demo looked down to find Soldier was clinging to him just as tightly as Demo was to he. Soldier realized it at the same time, and immediately pushed Demo off him, saying, “I did not give you permission to use me for comfort and safety, maggot!”

“Oi! You were the one who started it!” Demo turned his attention to the Eyelander. “What the bloody hell was that about? You trying to make us crap our pants?”

“Urhg, I don’t know!” Eyelander snapped. “If I’m not concentrating on anything in particular I just end up doing ghost type things. Like how you just start making horse noises when you think you’re home alone.”

Soldier snickered. Demo shot him a glare.

Ignoring him, Soldier got to his feet and dusted himself off. “That’s one thing to check off the list.” He paused, inspecting the form floating before him. “…Why are you a sword?”

“…I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Wait, no, Soldier’s right,” Demo said, getting up as well. “You’re not in the blade anymore, you can look like anything you want! You used to be a mortal, didn’t you?”

“I don’t remember okay?” it snapped. “That was centuries ago, I don’t know how to be anything but a ghost sword.”

“Aw, give it a shot mate,” Demo encouraged. “If we’re going to hunting around for the geist that stole your sword, you might as well try a new form.”

“…Alright, I guess I can give it a try.”

Slowly, the illusion in front of them melted, growing until it was humanoid, then rippling as details began to make its shape. The jaw strengthen, and a hole appeared in the right side its face, features sharpening until a near-copy of the Demoman stood next to the suit of armor. It was a hazy reflection, as though looking at himself in green glass, but a reflection just the same.

“Hey, don’t be me,” Demo said.

“Yeah, we already got enough of those,” Soldier added under his breath.

“Uhg,” it complained. “Sorry. You’re the most recent person I’ve been.” The uncanny valley was further emphasized that Eyelander forgot to move Demo’s mouth when it was speaking.

“Just be yourself,” Demo insisted, as much due to the ghost-him’s creepiness as the fact that he was a bit curious about who Eyelander used to be. “Go on, give it a shot.”

Grumbling without moving its mouth, the Eyelander began to change again, Demo’s features swept away as though lost on the wind. It grew inexorably, towering of the mortals below it like a warrior from myth; then it shrank, arms and ghostly blade disproportionately detailed like recalling a fighting feeling.

Both of these faded, other particulars bubbling up from the surface. A tartan hood crawled over the general shape of a head, plunging the face into inscrutability. From its shoulders sprung a cape, one that would have pooled across the ground if the mirage weren’t floating a half-foot off the stone. A thick tunic billowed, then fell down to the mirage’s knees, held in place by a sash across its chest.

The face beneath flickered. Morphing, becoming-

“Damn it,” Eyelander groaned as the features fell back into darkness, effort weakening its voice. “I really don’t remember.”

“Ach, it’s fine Eyelander,” he assured it, hearing the clear disappointment. “We’ll get your sword back in no time.”

“…Thanks mate.”

Suddenly, Soldier pushed past him, far roughing than necessary. “If the ghost is done having an identity crisis, lets get back to busting.”

Demo frowned after him, but according to the readings he was headed in the right direction, so he said nothing to it.

Eyelander was a different story. “OoooOOOoooo, jealous again are we?” Catching up to him was no problem when it could simply glide across the ground, cape fluttering behind it.

“Silence apparition!” Soldier stated. “You cannot get inside my head with your devil words, nor your OoooOOOoooo.”

Eyelander cackled, floating in front of him and forcing him to walk into it. He shivered as he passed through the ethereal dregs, breaking from his path and pivoting into the nearest set of doors. They found themselves in the grand library, tiers upon tiers of floor-to-ceiling books simply rotting in the dust. Cobwebs clung to everything, ancient lamps and moldering fainting couches, rendering the entire room silent.

“Touch a nerve?” Eyelander was enjoying its new ‘body’, swinging a spectral arm over Soldier’s shoulder that he was unable to shrug off. “Not still mad he likes me better than you?”

“Only goes to show how poor his taste is,” Soldier snapped.

Demo had to jog to catch up. The library’s various stone busts turned to watch him as he moved.

“Maybe, if he was hanging out with you to begin with,” Eyelander persisted. “Does that bother you, yankee doodle?”

“Eyelander, lay off him,” Demo said, surprising even himself when the words came out of his mouth. Soldier didn’t look, breathing heavily through his nose

“Why?” the ghost huffed. It was odd seeing the body language to accompany it for once, the entity folding its arms across its chest. “He’s the one who throws a fit whenever I’m around, and I’m bloody sick of it. Why should I have to put up with some moron you don’t want anything to do with?”

“Shut your nonexistent mouth!” Soldier was really heated now. “If you keep talking to me I will put my boot up so far up your ass you will feel it in the afterlife!”

“OoooOOOoooo,” Eyelander said, and it was a proper ghostly ooo that reverberated about the empty library. “I’m so scared. Should I start crying out in fear? That’s all a lout like you knows how to do, just yell until someone cries and then piss off entirely. Well guess what, eejit, he’s just fine without you.”

“I am warning you…” Soldier growled.

“Oh but that doesn’t stop you from getting all possessive does it?” Eyelander just goaded, heedless of anything else but its own petty revenge. “More possessive than me, and I’m the one possessing him! Is that the sort of bond you’re going for yank? Spending a lot of time in-”

With a furious scream, Soldier launched himself at the Eyelander. On instinct, it jerked to the side to try and avoid his murderous hands, but it didn’t matter either way as Soldier when flying through the ghost’s form and crashed into the bookcase behind it.

The bookcase swung like a revolving door, and Soldier disappeared from view.

Eyelander and Demo shared a glance. “Did that just…?” he asked.

“Hold on.” It glided forward, passing through the bookcase unimpeded. A moment later, it stuck its head back out through the wall and said, “aye! It’s a secret passage! Some stairs going down into a basement of some sort.”

“Stairs? Is Solder alright?” Demo worried as he came forward and tried to trigger whatever had moved the loose shelf.

The Eyelander stuck its head in, then back out again. “Eh, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Demo found him, if not exactly fine, then stabilized. His leg had started bleeding again, but the tumble down the basement stairs had shaken the fight out of him. He let Demo rebandage his injuries with barely a word.

“Good work finding the passage, lad,” Demo said, as though he didn’t feel a terrible heat of embarrassment on the back of his neck. “Based on the readings, that’s where the ghost is hiding.”

“Hm,” was all Soldier said. He wouldn’t look at either Demo or the levitating knight.

“…Eyelander, why don’t you float on ahead?” Demo said after a moment. “Scout things out a bit for us?”

“Yeah, sure. Not being bound to a mortal vessel anymore gives you a lot more free range of movement.”

Demo helped Soldier to his feet. Several long minutes were spent walking down a cold, damp tunnel, only illuminated by bulbs covered in metal grates that flickered in sync. When Eyelander had drifted far enough ahead in its impatience, Demo asked what had been on his mind since they’d come down here, spinning over as the guilt he’d been holding back for years weighed heavier on him than it ever had.

“…Jane?” he mumbled. The Soldier jumped at his real name. “What Eyelander said back there…have I really been…?”

“Don’t believe anything that comes out of that ghost’s pie hole! Its ghost pie hole! Where it puts its ghost pies!” Soldier barked hastily. “It is- I don’t-!”

Demo let Soldier sputter for a moment before frowning at the floor. “I’m sorry.”

Soldier choked mid denial and whipped his head so hard his eyes showed wild underneath the helmet. “You- What?”

“You were right,” Demo rubbed his face. “About always lying to each other. Saying we didn’t care, just to make it easier. And you’re right that I treat my friends like crap sometimes, picking the sword—the job—over anybody else. So I fucked up too, believing their lies just as much, listening to them because it was the easiest.” He lifted his head, making eye contact with the alarmed Soldier. “So maybe I do pick the sword sometimes. But I never should have taken a bribe over my best friend.”

They’d stopped walking, Soldier just staring at him, mouth slightly open.

Soldier breathed in deep. “…Your best friend?”

Cautiously, taking care not to startle Soldier or his own frayed nerves, Demo reached out and held Soldier’s hand. He could hear Soldier’s labored breaths, even as the BLU looked down so steeply at their linked hands that his helmet obscured is whole face.

“Aye.”

Soldier’s mouth writhed a second longer before saying, “I’m sorry. Too. For all the crap I said to you after. I didn’t mean any of it either, I always liked you. I always…”

Demo squeezed his hand. “We’ll talk after we get my sword back, aye?”

Soldier finally lifted his chin, a grin of joyous relief across it. “Affirmative! We will beat the crap out of that weapon-stealing cheat, and then boot it back to kingdom come.”

“Our powers combined, eh?” Demo wiggled the fingers on the power glove.

Soldier lifted his hose. “Lets get this spirit-maggot!”

“Are you two coming?” the Eyelander demanded, reappearing in the grimy tunnel before them. “There’s this big evil laboratory at the end of the hall and the bell-end body-snatcher is just waiting for someone to come and kick its pommel.”

Demo grinned at his once-again best mate. “Don’t worry Eyelander, that bastard’s got another thing coming.”

The rescue squad stormed into the evil lab, magic and science and supernatural forces in hand. The room was exactly what you’d think: test tubes full of pulsating green goo, an open slab with leather straps around it, giant Tesla coils pointing all which way as though the whole space was ready to zap you at a moment’s notice.

“You!” Eyelander demanding, pointing a menacing spectral finger at the sword floating in the center of the room.

“Aw crap,” it said as it turned and saw the trio of ghostbusters that had come for its soul.

Immediately, it tried to make a run for it, zipping off on a trail of orange magic. But Soldier was faster, flipping the Hoover to ‘suck’ and immediately summoning a typhoon from the nozzle’s end. The geist shrieked as it was pulled backwards, forward momentum fighting against the suction until was it pulled taught mid-air. Demo wasn’t going to inadvertently help it this time, though. Instead, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his best mate, and sent a pulse of magnetic energy to join the vacuum’s pull.

“NOOOOOooooo,” the geist screamed as it began to lose ground.

It still wasn’t enough. A humanoid shape was being drawn from the sword, but that only made it struggle harder, fighting tooth and nail as it screamed all the while.

The Eyelander’s spirit stormed forward. With both hands it gripped the sword, pulling away from its rival ghost with its impressive incorporeal biceps. The geist screamed harder, but in a three-on-one it was losing, even as it tried to wrench the hilt away. Eyelander grabbed above the crossguard, and a gush of ethereal blood splattered on the floor, but the extra leverage worked, and it ripped the blade free from enemy hands.

Eyelander reared back, and the ghost went falling into the vacuum with a scream.

The impact knocked Demo flat on his ass. It wasn’t as rough as the first explosion, but he still groaned as he sat up. “We get it this time?”

Soldier poked the bag, which moaned in protest. “Yup. We got it.”

“How about you Eyelander?” Demo got up and walked to where the sword had fallen. “Everything back in the bits?”

“Uhrg…my whole fuller hurts,” the blade on the floor said in what was definitely the Eyelander’s voice. “Put me back in my scabbard…I want a nap.”

Demo chuckled, and did as he was asked.

“Teamwork saves the day!” Soldier declared, walking up to the pair. “Goes to show what camaraderie and true American sprit can do.” He clapped Demo on the shoulder, and the two exchanged a smile.

“…Did I miss something?” Eyelander asked from its sling on Demo’s back.

“Nah,” Demo said. “Jane ‘n I just worked some things out. Don’t worry your pretty little locket about it.”

“We are best friends again!” Soldier was too excited to hold back. He grabbed Demo’s hand again and squeezed.

The two shared a look of shining eyes and full hearts.

“Yuck,” Eyelander noted. “Do I have to be here for this?”

“Ah, shut it,” Demo said. “We just saved your life.”

“I didn’t want to be brought along in the first place!”

“You hate being left alone at the base,” Demo pointed out.

“Yeah but that was before you brought ghosthunting into the picture. You should have known better! What if one of your stupid machines had malfunctioned and killed me instead?”

As they walked back up through the secret passage, Soldier leaned toward the scabbard and said, “looks like there’s trouble in paradise after all, huh.” Demo had never heard him be smugger.

“Keep grinning, eejit,” Eyelander grumbled. “Next time we get into battle I’m carving a new smile into your throat.”

Soldier snickered, and they left the manor victorious.

#boots n bombs #demosolly #tf2 fanfiction

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novantinuum · 4 years

Text

Contact (ch. 1/4)

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: T (TW: depiction of vomiting, this first chapter is pretty whump-esque)

Words: 3.0K~

Summary: The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

So this fic is Steven and Amethyst centric, set during the 2 year time skip. It’s also kinda in conversation with An Indirect Kiss, and explores the idea of what could happen to a hybrid with a cracked gem. Do note the warnings above. The first chapter is the only one that’s especially whumpy. It will be exactly 4 parts.

AO3 link can be found in the reblogs! Support there or here (via reblogs) is very much appreciated! <3

____

Chapter 1: The Mission

The first (and with any luck, only) time it happens, he’s almost 16.

His birthday’s only half a week out. Exciting as always, or at least it would be in other circumstances. Unfortunately, the Diamonds are breathing down his neck for him to celebrate his sweet sixteen (not that they understand what that is) on Homeworld. Even unfortunatelier, (is that a word?? He has a gut feeling Connie would tell him no, but oh well), the last time he saw Blue Diamond face-to-face, she mentioned wanting to personally throw a huge planet-wide ball in his honor.

And yeah, maybe he’s a little selfish for spurning their desire to spend more time with him, but truth be told, the center of attention is the last place he wants to be right now. He’s already spent so much time in their company over the past year, being carted around from planet to planet, formerly introduced in front of thousands of Gems on those outer colony worlds, tirelessly working to spread the news of the empire’s dissolution day in and day out. He’s tired. He misses his friends. He craves the privacy of his home, where he’s not constantly flanked by the volunteer guard when he so much as moves to fetch a midnight snack. More than anything, he needs familiarity. He wants to celebrate his birthday on Earth— like he always has— guilt-free.

Which is why it sucks that Blue didn’t take his gentle turn-down well.

“Seriously, and then she made you cry again?!” Amethyst spits out, kicking a rock as they tromp through the dense woods. “I thought you said she was getting better with that!”

“She is,” he says, and ducks to clear a low branch. “This is the first time she’s done it in like, five months. Growth isn’t always linear, y’know? And I get it, I do. They just wanna spend time with me, wanna learn more about all the human stuff that makes me who I am. That’s fine! I just...”

Steven sighs softly and pauses to lean against a sturdy tree trunk, puffy moss coating its entire diameter. The blistering summer heat coaxes droplets of sweat from his brow, which roll across cheekbones and towards his jaw. (And in the wake of this, he can’t help but be reminded of that bizarrely foreign feeling, of crying tears that aren’t his own, without consent, without resolve...)

“Wish it didn’t happen right before your birthday?” she tentatively completes, tone softer.

He shrugs, expression guarded.

Her lips purse as she regards him, and she goes silent. For a split second he wonders if maybe she heard something stalking around nearby— perhaps one of the straggling corrupted Gems they‘re trying to track down today? But no, more than likely, she’s probably lost in thought. That’s not uncommon for her, outside the heat of the moment. Even though she has the reputation of being the most impulsive of the four of them, there’s a clear deliberateness about her nature that often goes unstated. Her actions and words may be blunt, but when it really matters she does stack a lot of intent behind them.

Heh. She’s the mature one, alright.

“What did you tell her? Specifically?” she asks after a brief pause, peering at him with a careful eye.

He squints, grasping to remember the fine details of what he said. “Just... that I normally spend my birthday with all of you here on Earth, and after all the nonstop planet touring kinda, maybe wanted to take some time alone?”

Amethyst nods, giving a sharp bark of laughter at this.

“Hah! Then don’t worry about it, m’dude! Sounds to me like you stood your ground and spoke your mind. Don’t be guilty about that for even a second.”

“But- it’s not like her wanting me to spend time with them is wrong, so by turning her down, wasn’t I being kinda ru—“

His rapidly spiraling thoughts are cut off at the root by a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Okay, listen,” she says in that unmistakable ‘Serious Amethyst’ voice of hers, which of course means that she’s— well... that she‘s absolutely 100% being serious. “One thing ya’ gotta learn is that some people are just super tiring to deal with 24/7. It’s not wrong to set boundaries with them. All this junk? With Blue D? Far as I’m concerned, you handled it perfectly! And if she wants to cry about it, then that’s her problem.” Smiling, she reaches over to playfully muss his hair. “I’m super proud of you, ‘kay?”

He responds with a weak grin. Inwardly he still has his doubts, but he knows all too well that trying to argue against her when she’s in ‘Serious Amethyst’ mode is like standing on the shore trying to single handedly hold back the tides of the sea. Even a powerful terraforming Gem like Lapis would eventually be worn down by the ocean’s ceaseless tenacity. It’s best, then, to keep one’s objection silent.

So he’ll just stew in guilt quietly, no problem. Absolutely no problem here, no siree!

Before he can let that stew churn in the pot any longer however, a tree crashes to the forest floor with a colossal rumble nearby. A cluster of unsettled birds shoot into the sky from the boughs. Ground shaking under the unrest, the two of them dart to cling upon anything they can— bark covered trunks, each other— for balance. Thankfully it’s over in a few seconds, the local ecosystem quickly rebounding to its usual chittering atmosphere. But there’s now a lingering unease hanging like a curtain over this forest, a physical aura of dread, and despite his best efforts it’s one he can’t manage to ignore. He lets out a still breath. The back of his neck prickles. Geeze, just how big is this corrupted Gem they’re after?

Instinctively, he summons his shield, brings it in front of his torso. Pearl’s training echoing like a catchy earworm in his mind, he steps one foot back to widen his stance. Truth be told, with all of his political service on Homeworld it’s been a while (easily half a year!) since he’s actually used his shield in active combat— but he’s sure muscle memory will carry him through. It’s fine. He’ll be fine. It’s gotta be like riding a bicycle, right?

“You see something?” she whispers, lowering on her haunches. Her fingers twitch with anticipation at her side.

His brow furrows tight, eyes skittering through the visible tree line. “Not yet, but...”

Then, in a resolute answer to the question of the hairs raised at the nape of his neck, a skinny blur of steely blue and moss green suddenly swipes down from the branches at breakneck speed. He jerks his shield over his head in a flash.

Clang. Perfect timing.

(The force of the collision against reinforced hard light sends vibrations up his arms.)

Meanwhile, Amethyst yelps, only barely ducking from the spiked tail in time. She somersaults forward and immediately summons her whip as she regains her footing. In one fluid motion she snaps it at the rapidly moving blur. He grins at the sight.

Contact!

The corrupted Gem— her body long and willowy, able to skitter between limbs and leaves with zero effort whatsoever— screeches at the assault. All four of her beady eyes hone in on the pair of them.

They square up for battle, standing back to back.

“Here we go,” Amethyst says, flicking her wrist to switch the weapon’s tri-ended tip into its spiked counterpart. “Keep me covered. Whatever you do, don’t take your eyes off the trees.”

With a mighty yell, she moves to attack again. However, the creature anticipates it this time... and dodges.

Once. Twice. Thrice...

Every single lash she tries to land fares the same, with the Gem perfectly zig-zagging out of range at the last second. Even when Steven hurls his shield in coordination with her offensive strikes. Even when the quartz brings out a second whip to the party. It’s like trying to desperately keep hold of a wet bar of soap. The very moment you think you have it secure in your grasp, it slips away once more. Weird... he swears that thing is predicting their every move. What kind of Gem is she? A sapphire, maybe? Surely there had to have been a few other sapphires on Earth at the time of corruption. They’re a rare sort, but it’s certainly not impossible. Not at all.

They’ll know when they poof her, of course. No sense fixating on it in the heat of battle.

In the corner of his eye he catches that barbed tail swing from above, vying to surprise them from their blind spot, and summons his bubble around them. Its surface ripples upon impact, but holds strong. His fellow battle partner follows the creature’s erratic movements rapturously as she recovers.

“Tell me when,” he huffs for breath, watching the Gem circle around them and slash at the surrounding trees in a vain attempt at intimidation.

“Drop on three,” she says. “Your call.”

“Okay...”

Steven steels his nerves, inhaling deep, and focusing on the reliable hum of hard light running from his core outwards. Just relax. It’s all training. All stuff you’ve done a million times before. You’ve got this.

Working off the emerging rhythm of the creature’s strikes, he begins his count.

“One—“

Amethyst’s fists clench tighter.

“Two...”

The creature’s tail slams against the bubble and rebounds once again.

“Three!” he shouts, and throws his arms out, popping the bubble in a startling explosion of glittering pink.

The Gem howls. She’s thrown against a cluster of trees by the force of his magic’s kickback. Amethyst throws all of her energy into her spin-dash, and surges towards her with all the strength of a typhoon.

He summons two shields in turn, working light on his feet as he hurls them full force one after the other, desperately hoping to poof this poor creature as quickly and painlessly as he can manage. She’s strong, though. Incredibly strong— which gives more credence to his theory of this Gem being aristocratic in origin. Before Era 3, Homeworld used to endow the most ‘important’ Gems with greater durability. If she were a corrupted quartz or ruby, both easily poofed Gems, they’d have finished the fight by now.

“Hey!” Amethyst calls as she continues on the offensive, finally looping the Gem’s torso. “All this?” She gives a mighty battle cry, and swings her slender, scaly body over her head. Screeching, the corruption crashes headfirst into the dirt a good twenty feet away. “Is starting to get way too annoying. Ya’ wanna let Smoky take this one?”

Steven gives a playful laugh, averting his normally watchful gaze from the creature for a split second to face her. “You bet I do!”

And that’s when what should have been an incredibly straightforward mission goes very, very wrong.

All because he forgot to be careful. For one tiny, should’ve-been-insignificant moment.

He’s reaching out for a high five, fingers splayed outwards. His gem glows, the two of them so intrinsically in sync by now that he’s already anticipating their fusion.

But his hand never finds its match.

Instead, the end of the corrupted Gem’s mace-like tail swings back around and slams into his gut with the force of a freight train, knocking the wind clear out of him.

Contact.

Following momentum, his body spins a good hundred feet away from Amethyst before she can ever try to catch him with her whip... and he crashes headfirst into a startlingly solid tree trunk. He falls to the forest floor like nothing more than an abandoned rag doll.

“Steven!!” she shrieks from afar.

Ears ringing. Head pounding. Heart throbbing. Veins pumped full of static.

(Inhale.)

H-he- surely he‘s not—!

(Just inhale!)

Black feathers the edges of his vision, looming like a reaper. It’s wrong. It’s real, but it’s all so distant, so wrong. Stubbornly, he gasps for breath. Refusing to let himself go unconscious. Not here, not now. But it’s so tempting, gosh is it tempting. His whole body feels numb and battered, his whole body feels...

There’s a twisting in his gut. His eyes shoot wide.

Oh...

The sensation (again, wrong, sickly and wrong) rises in his throat faster than he can identify it by name, and it’s then that he’s thrown back into sobering reality. Arms quivering to hold up his weight, he pushes his upper body up off the dirt just before he retches. Once, twice, three times- all on quick succession. Ugh. So much for breakfast. His muscles ache as he desperately attempts to recover, attempts to shift his view away from the appalling sight of his own vomit. Everything is woozy, blurred, spinning around him. His- oh stars, his head is suddenly as heavy as lead...! Where’s Amethyst?? Why do his arms and legs feel all tingly and faint? Why can he only barely lift himself up? He gives a keening cry as a pulsing throb of static shoots in staccato bolts like lightning from his very core, his center, h-his— he can’t think, he can’t think, he can’t—

Breathing ragged, he collapses onto his side and rides through the spasms, his every muscle jerking against his command. His cheek sags against the ground once the fit reaches its end.

He lays there in a daze for a good long while, letting his vision grow unfocused and blurred in his exhaustion. From his creased brow, sweat drips in the sweltering August heat, staining the soil below. Conflict rages on in the distant background— Amethyst running solo?— yet he can’t keep track of the action by sound alone. It’s... too much sensory input. More than he can handle, by a long shot. Every bit of his universe now is faint and weak and pain pain pain pain pain, but he manages to shift his arm just enough to slip his hand under his shirt, blindly grasping for his gem... working off a terrible, horrifying hunch.

Shaking fingers find their way to warm crystal, tracing the outer edges, and then—

He traces a deep gouge, running diagonal clear across the center facet.

Cracked.

And with that realization, any remnant of calm he had left flies straight out the window. Another spike of static rips through his body (fuzzy images of Amethyst, 100% hard light body glitching out and unable to hold its shape, pervade his mind) as he makes rapid shallow gasps for air and seizes, trying in vain not to think too hard about what’s physically happening to him.

(I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m cracked I’m—)

“Steven!” Amethyst shouts, diving to his side in an instant. “I’m here, I’m here, I’m so sorry, it wasn’t safe, an’ I knew I had to bubble her before I- ‘fore I could—“

His wide eyed fear silences her even faster than his words. “H- Amethyst,” he rasps, voice hoarse. He blinks as tears begin to slip from between his lashes.

Near indistinguishable blurs of purple and black are his only metric for her movement now. He’s rolled onto his back. A hand moves under his head, stabilizing it.

“Whoa, dude, you’re like, pale as milk! What’s wrong? Did you get hurt?? Can’t you heal it?”

He somehow manages to push coherent words through his warbling cries. “I, I- I dunno, I’m c- cracked, I’m—“

“Wait, wait, wait, you’re WHAT?”

Giving no thought to courtesy in light of the situation, she yanks his shirt up to see for herself.

He hears her inhale as her fingers delicately brush against the gouge marring the center facet of his gem. It’s sharp, sympathetic. The kind of reaction only a Gem who’s lived this horror could offer him. Ever so slight, her hand recoils upon the no-doubt triggering sight. He— stars, he doesn’t wanna... doesn’t want to have to make her remember that, remember that awful time she herself got cracked, but here he is, so clumsy, s-so useless, an—

His chest trembles with every pitiful, bubbling gasp as he succumbs to the terror of the situation and begins to openly sob. Hot, fat tears pour in rivulets down his cheeks, but he knows instinctively there‘s no magic within them. Not today. Not when h-he’s... when he’s like this.

What’s even gonna happen to him now? How’s he gonna— Deep breath. This time, he feels it coming. Every muscle in his body contracts on automatic as that awful, awful static tears through his nerves like an arc of electric current.

It hurts it hurts it hurts ithurtshurtshurtshurtshurtshurts—

Amethyst does her best to lightly hold him as he seizes, cradling his head to ensure no more damage is done. When he stills this time the fight’s practically draining from his body. The boughs of the trees above him pirouette like dancers. Oh stars, everything’s... so... woozy...

“Aw, geeze,” she mutters, and reaches to her gem to pull out an object, thin and rectangular, too blurry in his view for him to make out with much detail. “I, uh... listen. I’m gonna call up Pearl, and we’re gonna fix you up, okay?? We’re gonna take you to the fountain, an’ then...” Her words (reassurance, but for who?) grow thick as her glance flicks downward at his stomach again. “An’ then you’re gonna be fine...”

“B-b-but... I don’t think— I can’t walk,” he blubbers.

“Then I’ll carry you.”

“Am- hnng- Amethyst—“

“Shh-shh, don’t talk, bud. Save your energy.”

“I- I’m so scared,” he blurts.

And it’s so true. Because everything is becoming so blurry and indistinguishable, and the more his body seizes the more fractured he feels, and he’s so close to closing his eyes and drifting off now, he’s sure he is, he’s gotta be—

“Steven,” she says, voice firm yet soft. “Steven, common’, look at me.”

Serious Amethyst. He recognizes the tone. No arguing now.

So slowly but surely— knowing there’s no sense in fighting back oceans when he can barely stay afloat amidst the shallows of this river— his weary, tear stained eyes meet with hers. They’re blown wide with fear, with genuine concern, but between the swirls of black and indigo blue stirs a deeper courage: the unwavering gaze of someone who will have his back to the end of the line.

Amethyst clasps her palm against his shoulder, solid and reassuring.

“Whatever it takes, I promise you... I’m gonna get you there.”

#su #steven universe #amethyst #su fanfiction #my writing stuff

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