#and on from here ..... i thought maybe one day it just wakes up. inexplicably. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

laxmiree · 1 year

Text

[CN] MLQC Season 2 Chapter 43 Translation

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT ⚠️

This post contains a VERY HEAVY SPOILER for the chapter that has not been released in EN yet! Feel free to notify me if there are any mistakes in the translation~

IMPORTANT!!! to fully understand the story, prior knowledge of previous S2 chapters are needed. Before, I made a short summary that i should update explain those chapters. I hope this can help :D

“...Ares?”

“I-it's really Ares!!”

“You see, I found Queen! I know you have the authority in the organization, so please, you must restore my identity…”

“Do I need to repeat myself a second time?”

As the words were spoken, several sharp and thin icicles suddenly appeared and were placed directly against the man's throat.

Previous chapter-> [Here]

[Chapter 41-1 & 41-2 tid-bits]

Xiao Yue leans back in his office chair. The bright white light turns his hidden gloomy expression even more indifferent.

"Overlapping Worlds", "CORE", and "Comet Doomsday"… These words are scribbled on the notebook spread out in front of him.

He writes "didn't happen" next to "The New Year Change Incidents" and puts a question mark beside it.

The fuzzy information that suddenly appears in his mind is fragmented, familiar and unfamiliar, like his own experience but he has no memory of it.

??(Lucien): Mr. Xiao.

An unexpected person knocks on the door, Xiao Yue closes his notebook and raises his head.

Xiao Yue: Professor Lucien, you must have a certain reason for coming today. Is there a new development in the CORE experiment?

Lucien: It takes time to slowly infiltrate a powerful force. Mr. Xiao is too impatient.

Lucien: Focusing too much on one thing and neglecting other critical information isn't worth the trouble.

Xiao Yue squints his eyes and leans back in his chair, silently hiding the scrutiny in his eyes.

Lucien: Does Mr. Xiao notice any changes in himself?

Lucien gently points to his own temple. Seeing Xiao Yue's eyes slightly change, he calmly waits for a reply.

After a short while, Xiao Yue asks Lucien to sit down.

Xiao Yue: I would like to hear more about it.

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

The buzzing phone wakes me up with a jolt. I look at the notebook spread out on my desk, my heart still pounding.

The pain from getting hit by a falling billboard feels real, I take a deep breath and realize that my palms are full of cold sweat.

MC: …A dream?

Although the weather outside is perfect, I inexplicably feel a sense of chill.

Every detail of the dream remains vivid in my mind, the smell of the rain and the loud crashing sound seems to linger in my perception.

MC: Precognitive dream...

I suddenly feel a little bit of panic for no apparent reason. Could this be caused by CORE's awakening, or was it something else? Is this precognition giving me a hint of something?

No, maybe I'm just overthinking it and it's just a simple nightmare.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the chaotic thoughts in my head. I grabbed my phone and saw an unread email on the screen.

Lucien: "The good news is that the effective drug for blood disease has passed clinical evaluation and follow-up monitoring. It is estimated that it will be available for sale soon. You can rest assured."

MC: !

His straightforward and simple message disperses all of my earlier worries right away. I immediately cheer up and reply to Lucien.

MC: "Many thanks to Professor Lucien for the great news OvO!"

Lucien: "This great news is the result of your own efforts ^_^"

((the way they reply each other with kaomoji is so cute :’))

I unconsciously curl the corners of my mouth and lean back in my chair. The setting sun cast the office in a warm orange color, and I feel that all the gloom in my heart has been lifted.

With the joy of this good news, I finished my work for the day and stepped out with the last light of day.

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

ANYWAY, a lot of things happened after this, but just for background info:

MC's precognitive dream is back.

It turns out that MC and the boys aren't the only ones who remember their past lives in S1.

Leto, in particular, is very interested in this phenomenon, in chapter 41 he meets with MC as the representative of the City Hall. He tells her that he's looking forward to their future cooperation (a very important detail!). He also tells her about his dreams' where he fight MC and lost his life in it. MC brushed it off as nothing, and Leto seems to be not fully convinced but decides to not dwell on it.

Some people are trying to kill/kidnap MC after discovering she is Queen/CORE.

In chapter 43-1 she learned from Shaw that many people have been inquiring about her recently. She proposed to join in his information exchange, Shaw sent her an address. MC left her home after disguising herself, but then she met Lucien on the first floor.

The elevator slowly descends with a mechanical hum, and with a ding, the door slowly opens up.

I press the brim of my hat and move forward, but the person in front of the door doesn't move at all. I suspiciously tried to move around, but a gentle voice rang in my ears.

??(Lucien): I seem to rarely see you in this kind of outfit.

I froze for a moment and look up to see Lucien standing outside the door. He's looking at me with a little hint of curiosity.

MC: You're home early today! Is your work at the research institute over?

Lucien: Not yet. I just forgot to bring some documents, so I came by to pick them up. How about you? Is this-

MC: I...

I hesitated for a moment, and when I was about to explain, Lucien laughed again.

Lucien: Are you going undercover?

I let out a sigh of relief and nodded unconsciously. I suddenly think of something and speak with chagrin.

MC: Looks like there are still many flaws in my disguise. How could you recognize me at a glance!

((because she's the only color in his eyes :”’ how can he not recognize her at a glance-)

Lucien: No, your disguise is very successful. It's just that I'm familiar with every little thing about your demeanor and habits.

As Lucien spoke, his eyes inadvertently shifted to the entrance door.

Lucien: Seems like it's going to rain. Just to be safe, it's better for you to bring an umbrella.

I blink and belatedly glance at my empty hands.

MC: Thanks for the reminder Professor Lucien~ It's perfect. We can go up together.

I said and pressed the floor button, but Lucien just stood outside the elevator without moving.

Lucien: You go up first. I just received news from the research center. I'll call them back.

He waves his hand and moves aside to take out his cell phone. I whispered, "I'll go up first" before pressing the button and letting the elevator doors block my view.

After packing the umbrella, I return to the first floor but don't see Lucien's figure anymore.

He probably went back to the research center…

I reluctantly walk out of the apartment building and stop a car on the side of the road.

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

Just like that, he’s gone to the research center while MC continued meeting with Shaw.

When Lucien left the research center, he noticed a black car parked on the side.

When walking out of the research center, Lucien sees a black car parked on the corner.

He calmly opens the car door. A familiar figure sits in the left seat and nods at him.

Leto: Professor Lucien.

Lucien: This is an unexpected meeting place.

Leto: There are a lot of people and eyes watching. Besides, this can save a lot of time.

(Leto: *gets shot by sniper Lucien two times in two separate timelines*, Also Leto: this guy totally can be trusted)

The barrier between the front and back seats was lowered, and the car window showed the flowing street scenery. In silence, Leto opens his mouth.

Leto: I remembered something that was forgotten.

Lucien: So, what do you want to do now?

Leto: ...You really do know about this.

Leto said, withdrawing his gaze from the window.

Leto: I need a group of even more elite people. As for how to pick them, I would like to leave it to Professor Lucien.

Leto: Of course, I will pay you with an equal reward.

The sky is gloomy, and there is a faint smell of the approaching storm in the air. Lucien turns off his phone and speaks indifferently.

Lucien: I’m looking forward to it.

*insert Shaw and MC shenanigans here.*

In the morning, Anna suddenly calls MC, telling her that the TV Station wants to talk to her about a project. It's something that struck MC as odd because usually, the TV Station always produces its own program. Even though there is some external cooperation, it's usually not THIS easy and straightforward. The program is about a social education program, and in addition to funding, the TV Station will support them in terms of venue and so on. This cooperation can be beneficial to her company if it's successful.

In the meeting room, MC meets with Gao Xin, the program director of the TV Station. The theme of the show project is the current phenomenon of "overlapping memories". Because this phenomenon caused minor panics and might cause even worse things, the TV Station wants to work with her to eliminate the negative effects.

MC notices that the project commissioner is The City Hall, which means that Leto may be behind this. But since stopping the phenomenon from causing even more chaos is more urgent right now, and TV stations have more power to influence people, she decided to consider it for now.

[Chapter 43-9]

After the meeting, MC sits back at her desk and opens the submission mailbox containing emails from people affected by this phenomenon.

MC sorts and reads the submitted email individually, realizing the phenomenon's effect is more severe than she imagined. If it doesn't get dealt with in time, the chaos will only snowball, affecting more people. She then clicked the next email from a Loveland University student.

MC: "... I have been doing a theoretical study on the properties of topological semimetallic materials with my roommate."

MC: "But now, because of an unexpected memory, my roommate suddenly said that our research is destined to lag behind others… And there is no way out."

MC: "So, he wants to quit halfway through…."

I blink my eyes and unconsciously fiddle with the mouse.

College students are always a good subject and may be a good entry point.

With that in mind, I sent an email asking if it would be convenient for him to be interviewed. After about ten minutes, there is a new message in the mailbox.

MC: "I'd be happy to do an interview, but my schedule is very full today, and I'm only free around 3:00."

MC: "If you are coming, please find me in room 407 in the Physics Department of Loveland University. Contact information..."

I look at my phone. There are less than two hours before 3:00 p.m., there is still enough time.

After briefly packing the necessary materials for the interview, I message the student about the appointment and go to Loveland university.

Perhaps it's not easy to get a cab because of the rainy weather.

Ten minutes later, after watching another occupied cab whiz by, I take a deep breath and look at my phone.

Less than an hour left before the meeting time. If I take a shortcut, walking to Loveland University is not impossible...

MC: ...?!

A sudden chill comes across the back of my neck. It's as if some kind of grim creature is staring at me.

I step into the alley, quickly turn around and look back.

The rain curtain hides the traffic, the pedestrians come and go in a hurry, and nothing looks different.

MC: ...

I've experienced this feeling many times.

I hesitantly exit the alley when I suddenly hear a hoarse voice.

??: There you are.

MC: ....!

I automatically look for the source of the voice, only to see a slightly hunched man with his hands folded, half leaning on the ramp railing and staring directly at me.

His eyes are black with faint bloodshot in them, his pupils flashing with abnormal excitement.

??: You look the same as the one in memory… So, what I have in my head is not a hallucination?

??: It turns out that my life can be like that… It's so interesting...

There is a mixture of excitement and despair on the man's face as he mutters incoherently, letting the raindrops slide across the throbbing veins of his forehead.

Suddenly, he seems to have figured something out and gives me a creepy smile.

??: Hello, Miss Queen.

My heart nearly stops for a split second. The memories of BS and the long-unheard name swept over me without warning.

I don't answer his words and slowly take a half-step back. I quickly scan the surroundings from the corner of my eyes.

There are not many pedestrians on a rainy day, and the neighborhood is a bit deserted. Just a few steps away, a CCTV mounted on a pole is silently watching us.

Seeing that I didn't respond, the other party straightened up and walked towards me step by step, with fanatical earnestness in his tone.

??: I won't harm you. Just think of it as a favor…

??: You may not remember me, but it's okay. I remember you, I really remember you….

MC: ...Sir, you don't seem to be in good condition. Please calm down.

I gulp and quietly reach into my bag while keeping my distance from him.

Calling for help isn't the best option now because it might anger him. But if I can bring him into the CCTV field of view, I may be able to attract the attention of security personnel.

Even if I get caught, the videos captured by the CCTV will be enough to identify him at first sight…

The moment my fingertips touch the taser and about to pull it out, a voice abruptly comes from the side.

??(Lucien): I think the lady has already said it clear enough.

Holding a gray umbrella in his hand, Lucien cut through the thin rain curtain and unhurriedly walked towards me.

It isn't until he gets closer that his eyes sweep past me and look at the man. The color of his dark eyes is like a deep pool covered with thin ice, revealing a few hints of coldness.

??: ...Ares?

The man freezes for a few seconds and suddenly becomes excited.

??: I-it's really Ares!!

??: You see, I found Queen! I know you have the authority in the organization, so please, you must restore my identity…

Lucien frowns a little as the man becomes more incoherent in his wording.

Lucien: Do I need to repeat myself a second time?

His indifferent words seem to carry a heavy pressure, forcing the other side to stop.

Lucien: I'm not sure why you're so insistent on memory with no basis or corroboration...

Lucien: But there is one thing.

Lucien: I'm afraid you won't have a chance to leave with any decency if you keep dwelling on it.

As the words were spoken, several sharp and thin icicles suddenly appeared and were placed directly against the man's throat.

Our surrounding temperature suddenly dropped. Tiny raindrops turned into cold white ice shards and slowly fell.

The man opens his lips, and his body trembles unconsciously, seemingly thinking about something. His flickering gaze locks with Lucien's momentarily and then falls on me again.

At the same time, my palm is being gently stroked. His gentle touch is in contrast to our surroundings, making my heart skip a beat.

I take a deep breath, put on a similarly vigilant and cold expression, and lift my chin at the distant surveillance.

MC: Just a reminder, your every move has been recorded since a while ago.

MC: You don't think that you really don't have to pay any price for continuing to mess around like this, do you?

In the silence, there is a rustling sound of ice falling on the ground like a silent surge of undercurrent.

After a while, the man drops his head in defeat.

??: I...probably just misremembered...

Even though the man said so, the pace of his departure was languid. I watch tensely as he slowly walks to the alley entrance and then suddenly looks back.

An icicle suddenly burst from the ground near his feet, menacingly obstructing his sight.

Lucien: (coldly) Still want to continue?

The other party turns his head away in shock, and his body disappears completely in the rain.

In an instant, the alley regains its silence, and I finally breathe a sigh of relief. Lucien turns around, takes the umbrella from my hand, and then slightly bends down to me.

His fingers that had just touched my palm slipped to mine and gently clasped my hand.

The reassuring warmth from his fingertips gently softened my knuckles, that was stiff from tension.

Those dark eyes look at me questioningly, with a hint of helplessness.

Lucien: Were you scared?

[Chapter 43-11]

Honestly, I wasn't scared that badly. After all, I'm not the same weak little girl anymore and have experienced even more dangerous situations before.

But Lucien's tender and mellow voice carry a natural comfort that makes me instinctively want to get a little closer to him.

I squeeze his hand, rest my head on his shoulder, and nod vigorously.

MC: Yup, that just scared the hell out of me.

Hearing the exaggeration in my tone, Lucien can't help but laugh.

Lucien: (chuckle) It seems that our smart and brave Miss Nox can be a little delicate every once in a while?

MC: Because you are here, I want to be "delicate". Can't I do this?

(T/N: 娇弱 means soft and delicate, mostly referring to women who provokes pity)

Lucien: Of course you can.

Lucien: But I think you would still do the right thing even if I weren't there, wouldn't you?

MC: Yeah, after all...

I paused, thinking for half a second, and then decided to confess.

MC: In fact, some people have already come to trouble me, so I've done a lot of preparation now.

MC: (smiles) There are taser, a portable safety alarm… If there is an emergency, my mobile phone will make an emergency call to you!

I look up at Lucien and wink at him.

MC: But today it's all thanks to Professor Lucien that I could "defeat the enemy without a fight".

Lucien: Thanks to the Great Producer, we can work together seamlessly.

Lucien slightly shifts the umbrella towards me and sweeps a glance at the neighborhood.

Lucien: Where are you going now? I'll give you a ride.

MC: I'm planning to go to Loveland University…

I stopped talking and raised my head after realizing something.

MC: By the way, how did you appear here? It can't be another coincidence, can it?

Lucien calmly turns his head to look at me. There's a hint of seriousness in his tone.

Lucien: Of course it was "pre-planned".

MC: Eh?

Lucien lets out a long sigh, but his eyes show a little smile.

Lucien: My plan is… I miss you, so I really want to see you.

Lucien: I couldn't get a car because of the rain, so I took a shortcut.

Lucien: But I'm glad I made the decision, because it allowed me to meet you earlier.

He cunningly and frankly said his plan, with a smiling face that made my cheeks blush.

MC: I thought a busy person like Professor Lucien wouldn't have time to think about me…

Lucien: I'll always find time, and now haven't I just managed to spare half a day?

Lucien: But it seems like you have other plans for this afternoon?

I nod somewhat helplessly and tell Lucien about the circumstances that led up to the interview.

MC: My company received a submission about a student who wanted to abandon ongoing academic research because of the overlapping memories.

MC: So I'm going to interview them and find out what's actually going on.

Lucien seems to remember something, nodding thoughtfully

Lucien: Mm, I don't think that's an exaggeration. I did hear other professors talk about a similar turmoil.

MC: Similar?

In other words, there has been more than one of this kind of situation…

I give a soft "ah" and sigh with a bit of a headache.

Lucien: You don't have to sigh. You're going to Loveland University to solve this kind of problem, right?

I nod, and as we walk, I gently poke Lucien's shoulder with my finger.

MC: Don't forget to lend me your "Visiting Professor of Loveland University" status later!

Lucien: Sure, I'd happily "lend" everything I have to you.

Following the address in the email, they entered the Physics department and entered the fourth-floor hallway. They meet the email sender; he's surprised when seeing MC comes with Professor Lucien. Because the hallway isn't a convenient place to talk, he brings MC and Lucien to the balcony.

The sound of the operating instrument disappears, replaced by the sound of rain. I take out my notebook and notice the faint eyebags under the boy's eyes.

MC: Looks like… it's been a rough time?

Student: Yes, it goes without saying that the research is at its critical stage.

The boy said, smiling bitterly and rubbing his eyes.

Student: The situation was better when I worked with my colleague.

MC: Have you worked on this project with him for a long time?

Student: Yes, it's been about a year. Although there are no final results yet, the data is steadily progressing.

Student: That's why I found it hard to accept when he suddenly came to me last week and said he decided to quit.

Lucien: What's the reason?

The boy looks sideways in the direction of the laboratory and speaks after a long time.

Student: He said he saw our research's future in that abrupt memory.

Student: ...After investing a lot of time, we still lag behind others and end up with no results.

His voice is clearly lowered. I paused my writing, and saw the boy purse his dry lips and speak in a low voice.

Student: "Our current efforts are like throwing stones into a dry well and getting no response"… That's what he said.

Student: I wanted to persuade him to give it some more thought… We all are scholars, and giving up research for a memory that came from nowhere is not sensible.

Student: But now he refuses to communicate with me, resulting in…

Lucien: Your research is in danger of being discontinued.

With difficulty, the boy slowly nods, and his complexion becomes gloomy. I stop my writing and let out a light sigh.

I've seen Lucien stay up all night in front of the data countless times and how the light in the research center stays on all year round.

Academic devotion is a path of lonely pursuit. Even though I haven't been deeply involved in the field of research, I know how much work goes into a research project every day and night.

Anyone would feel reluctant to terminate a project that has lasted so long because of such reason…

I felt a little saddened. I was carefully choosing my words when I suddenly heard Lucien speak.

Lucien: Have you ever thought that maybe his choice is not wrong?

MC: ...Lucien?

The boy's eyes widen a little in disbelief. I look up with equal confusion, unable to believe my ears.

As a scientist, he obviously knows better than me what it means to abandon the project...

I unconsciously lift my hand to pull his sleeve. But Lucien still calmly looks at the student without seeming to be moved in the slightest.

Lucien: If you follow scientific research news, you should be aware that there are countless terminated studies every year.

Lucien: Out of hundreds of projects, only a few of them can produce results at the end.

Lucien: Misdirection, theory stagnation… There are many projects that have invested more than yours.

Lucien: What if this study turns out to be as hopeless as he claims?

[Chapter 43-12]

The boy's face shows a little struggle, and a few moments later, he clenches his palm.

Student: ...No, that will not happen.

Student: We did thorough research before starting the project and confirmed the feasibility with our supervisor.

Lucien: ...So what?

Lucien's voice was not high when he asked the question, but there was a compelling coldness.

Lucien: Every researcher goes through this process at the beginning of a project, and you are not an exception.

Lucien: The supervisor's permission only confirms the research value but is not a guarantee of results.

The boy opens his lips and then purses them in silence.

The atmosphere is a little dull for a while. I instinctively want to comfort, but when the words come to my mouth, I fail to say them.

It is easy to say and pretend everything is going well.

But I'm well aware that even though there are some deviations in this world, the direction of most people's lives does not make much difference.

So the experiment may indeed be the same as that memory, and no results can be obtained.

In the suffocating silence, the boy suddenly moves his body.

Student: ...When I chose to study for a Ph.D., my supervisor told me that every effort does not equal a harvest.

Student: Very often, it takes a hundred percent of effort to knock on the door of science theory.

Student: But… Professor Lucien, as long as the possibility still exists, it is worth the effort, isn't it?

The boy's speech speed is getting faster and faster. Lucien is unmoved as he looks at him. His eyes are still indifferent and cold.

Lucien: But you can't force others to hold the same point of view as you.

Student: I know… So, I just want to fight one last time too.

Student: If he insists on not coming back, I won't force it. I will move forward on my own, even if it takes more time.

Tiny raindrops hit the glass, and the sounds of distant instruments seemingly mix with the silence.

The boy faintly clenches his fist, not avoiding Lucien's gaze. I feel a little shaken by the scene in front of me.

I have seen this kind of perseverance more than once.

I have seen a similar light in Lucien's eyes and those of the scientists in the research institute, the laboratory, and the underground mines before the doomsday.

It's the same perseverance of exploring unknown areas with your whole life.

Lucien's expression visibly loosens a little.

Lucien: The struggle you are experiencing now won't be the last.

Lucien: Scientific research is never a straight path that gets smoother and easier. The deeper you dig, the more bottlenecks and confusion you will face.

Lucien: When you feel that you are unable to move forward, I hope you will remember today's words.

Student: Well, that's my commitment to science and myself.

His firm words echoed through the balcony, like a vow cutting through the rain curtain.

I write down the last sentence with a sour heart, and speak to the boy.

MC: Although a bit of work may not equal a bit of harvest, I think every step taken won't be a let down.

MC: Even if it doesn't reach the finish line, the effort will bear fruit elsewhere.

Student: That's what I'm hoping for. If there is a breakthrough, I hope to hear from you again.

MC: Definitely.

MC: Thank you, my interview is over. Professor Lucien and I will convey everything you want to say to him.

As the bell rings, Lucien and I walk down the stairs of the physics department. The students noisily pass by, laughing and smiling.

The outline of the school building is fading away, but the boy's words still remain in my mind. I look at Lucien, who is at the bottom of the steps, and can't resist speaking.

MC: Lucien, why did you just ask him a rhetorical question about his point of view?

Lucien raises his head a little and looks at me. Amidst the crowd of people, his gaze seems extraordinarily calm.

Lucien: Because that's the norm in research.

Lucien: With the exception of a few miraculous discoveries, science has been progressing slowly. Many people have been unable to make a single advance in their lifetimes.

Lucien: Not a few people regret it after spending years of their lives.

Looking at Lucien's quiet profile, I suddenly realize something.

MC: ...Did you test him just now? To see if he is really that persistent?

Lucien doesn't deny it. His gaze passes behind me and looks towards the yard where the bell rings in the distance.

Lucien: In order to be deeply involved in the academic field, persistence after seeing the reality is as important as the love for science itself.

Lucien: Life is vast, and academia is not the only path they can take. For him, this is also an opportunity to choose a way of life.

MC: And have you ever had any regrets?

He doesn't seem to expect my question. Lucien ponders for a moment.

Lucien: When it comes to research, I've never had one.

Lucien: The direction of each research is the result of careful consideration. Even if I were to do it all over again, I would make the same choice.

MC: What about things other than research?

The figure in front of me seems to pause for a moment. Lucien's eyes fall on me as if looking into a distant past.

Lucien: (quietly, with the loneliest tone you've ever heard-) ...I have.

This time, I get taken aback. I blink and curiously ask after him, stopping him in his tracks.

MC: Hmm? What was the situation?

As if being pricked by a dark hidden thorn in his heart, Lucien's eyelashes trembles and he answers in a quiet voice.

Lucien: …When I thought you were gone forever.

I freeze, suddenly remembering the memory of the scattered capsules and his bloodshot eyes.

A small sourness wells up within my heart. I reach out and hug him as if wanting to erase a memory that hurts so much for both of us.

MC: It's all in the past. I'm still alive and standing in front of you now.

Lucien wraps his arms around me, and his chin gently rests on the crook of my neck. His voice is gentle and firm.

Lucien: Um, I can feel it.

Lucien: So it will be the one and only time.

Afterward, Lucien and MC interviewed the student's classmate who decided to quit. When facing the boy's question of whether one should continue when knowing there's no hope, Lucien pointed out that things aren't always predictable. There is some scientific breakthrough caused by accidents.

Lucien invited MC to share her thought. And she frankly expressed her feelings about it.

Lucien: Every exploration is approaching the truth through twists and turns. Seemingly hopeless trial and error often accumulate possibilities for the emergence of "unexpected factors".

Lucien: In this regard, Miss Producer also has her say.

I blinked, and when I met Lucien's quiet gaze, I suddenly understood what he was referring to.

There were countless nights when I thought I might not be able to keep going.

But I still gritted my teeth and struggled towards that tiny hope until the end.

And not only has he accompanied me in every difficult step, but also clearly recorded all the past for me.

MC: ...Um, when difficulties surrounded me, I also hesitated to keep moving forward.

MC: But now, I'm glad I didn't stop there. Otherwise, I would have really given up the last possibility of luck coming to me.

The boy didn't say anything, but the indifference on his face was gradually replaced by contemplation.

I close my notebook and follow Lucien to leave the room at a lighter pace.

The weather has cleared, and the sunlight leaking through the clouds shines on the rain-soaked road.

I'm holding Lucien's arm, walking down the stairs filled with flower petals step by step.

The silhouette of the school building gradually shrinks behind me. I withdraw my gaze and speak thoughtfully.

MC: I feel as if the boy is not as unattached to the abandoned project as he said he is.

Lucien: Mm, he probably needs a few days to clear his mind.

Lucien: But like what you said, everyone has their own choices. We are just slowing down the decision-making process and giving him more time to think about it.

I drop my gaze thoughtfully, and my pace gradually slows down. Lucien also stops walking in response and looks down at me.

Lucien: What's wrong?

MC: I'm thinking of…. I've been wondering if I should make a show on the theme of this returning memory.

MC: The actual situation obviously can't be revealed to the public, but denying means concealing...

I said and looked up at Lucien. As my eyes become a little brighter, my inner thoughts also grow firmer little by little.

MC: But when I heard you ask them just now, I also clearly thought about something.

MC: The right to believe or not is up to the audience. What we have to do is to provide them with the necessary psychological support.

Lucien lets out a low laugh while watching me pull his hand and gently shake it.

Lucien: Turns out there was more than one student in that classroom just now.

MC: It was initially unfamiliar, but I became skillful later on. Anyway, it's not like I've never "freeloaded" on your class before~

Lucien lets out an "oh", and his eyes fall on the corners of my already curved lips.

Lucien: You already "borrowed" my status as a professor for the interview, and yet MC still holds my hand and acts coquettishly. Do you have any other requests?

MC: As expected of Professor Lucien, your intuition is very sharp!

I said as I looked up, then grinning and cheerfully say.

MC: I want to make this program into the stone that breaks the situation.

MC: So, Professor Lucien, can I invite you to be my guest?

[Chapter 43-13]

The light from the shadows of the trees swayed on the person in front of me and settled into his deep eyes.

Lucien: If it's an invitation...

Lucien: Then, before I say yes, I need to know how the show is going to be prepared.

MC: I will always welcome Professor Lucien's field visits- Why don't you come back to the company with me later and watch my work~

Lucien: There's no time like the present.

Lucien arches his eyebrows in a very good mood, holding my hand down the stairs.

Lucien: (chuckle) After all, it's been a long time since I've seen Miss Producer at work.

I took Lucien out of the elevator lightly, and just after walking a few steps, everyone looked in unison.

Several colleagues exchange glances, and Anna is the first to speak with a smile.

Anna: Professor Lucien, you're here. Let me get you a cup of water.

Kiki: Woah! Is Professor Lucien wants to join our program?

MC: Not sure yet... I'll show him around first!

Lucien takes the glass of water, smiles, and nods beside me.

Lucien: Um, I just came to see what you all have prepared. There is absolutely no such reason as wanting to see your boss or anything like that.

Amidst the snickering of my colleagues, I blush and pull Lucien to my desk. I make him sit on my chair by pressing his shoulder.

Facing the gossiping gazes around me, I clear my throat and begin to introduce the progress to Lucien in a serious manner.

Lucien looks through the various materials I handed him, occasionally nodding to affirm my words.

MC: ... This is the information so far. As for the direction of the program, I have two considerations.

MC: The first one is a social education program that follows the tradition of serious science and explains examples of the submissions.

MC: And the other direction is light-hearted and casual, enhancing the watchability of the program through activities.

MC: However, I'm still a bit torn about which one to use.

Lucien: If choosing is difficult, why don't you listen to other people's opinions?

MC: …Other people?

Lucien: Yes. After all, I'm only here to "investigate" the project today.

Lucien: Your colleagues' opinions regarding the program's production should be more informative than mine.

As Lucien said that, he slowly and carefully picked up a glass of water, showing a relaxed look. I can't help but pout.

MC: Hmph, you are really "investigating" seriously.

Lucien: Uh-huh.

(the way he says 'uh-huh' is so cute and irritating at the same time lmaoo)

They discussed it with her other co-worker. Willow suggested a serious science program, while Minor suggested a more entertaining program. MC proposed a debate program between the scholar and the viewer

MC: How about a fun debate style?

MC: In each episode, a scholar is invited to speak on the pro side, and four or five audience members take turns speaking on the contra side.

MC: This way, both sides of the argument can be fully expressed.

Anna: It's a good idea. Since we are inviting scholars, why don't we ask Professor Lucien what he thinks?

MC: Indeed~ when it comes to his field of expertise, Professor Lucien won't be able to resist, right?

Lucien puts down his glass of water and looks at me a little banteringly.

Lucien: Pitting one against many. Doesn't it seem very demanding for the pro side?

MC: That's why the first episode needs a powerful guest~ After all, knowledge is the best weapon.

Lucien: (chuckle) In that case, this powerful guest wants to add to his argument by using other methods.

Lucien smiles and bites the words "powerful guest", but still refuses to take the bait. But I'm not discouraged and continue to ask him questions.

MC: So, let's hear what Professor Lucien is going to say?

Lucien slightly raises the corners of his lips. The shadow of the tree outside the window flickers in his eyes, making it hard to see them clearly.

Lucien: Perhaps we can conduct a social psychology experiment for the first episode.

MC: A social psychology experiment?

Lucien: Mm. The more affected a person's life is, the more convinced they are of the authenticity of the overlapping memories.

Lucien: I think there is no better way to sway their opinion than to create a false memory on the spot.

Anna: However, the risk is very high. If you get caught before the announcement, it will be difficult to turn public opinion, right?

Lucien: Rather, I really hope to see such a person appear.

Lucien: After all, that makes the show so much more interesting, right?

As Lucien spoke, he raised his eyebrows a little and revealed a smile of interest.

I write down a few ideas in my notebook. After thinking for a moment, I nod my head.

MC: Considering the advantages and disadvantages, this is a good plan that can be adopted into the planning proposal.

Willow and Anna are looking at each other, coughing and speaking.

Willow: Boss, since the style and format of the program have taken shape, can we consider collaborating with the TV station…?

MC: Not yet.

As I spoke, I turned my head and solemnly looked at Lucien.

MC: Because the show's esteemed guest has not been decided yet. I can't afford to make this call if he doesn't nod.

Lucien lowers his eyes and puts one hand on his chin.

Lucien: Let me think about it... I really like this topic, and the program's format is also very interesting.

Lucien: However, it seems that the days when the show will be filmed coincide with the completion of my current project.

MC: …And so?

Lucien looks at my expectant eyes and opens his mouth with a smile.

Lucien: So I'll be working intensively these days to complete the work on the research center.

Lucien: Looking forward to working with you. I'm glad to be your first guest.

After finalizing the other details, MC calls the TV Station to express her willingness to cooperate. The other party happily agreed and only proposed that the submission should be submitted to the TV Station for review.

MC gives the coordination work to Kiki while she is interviewing people about the recent phenomenon.

MC: What do you think about the recent "overlapping memory" rumor?

Passerby A: I've never cared about it, but doesn't it sounds like some multi-channel network hype to scam money?

Passerby B: This hysteria has ruined my son... he now stays at home all day in disbelief, and his homework has been neglected for days!

Passerby C: This must be God's instruction! It points the way for our future!

Questioning, admiration, disdain, curiosity. The different attitudes make me feel that this incident's scope seems more significant than I imagined.

As if there's an invisible string that is constantly tightening, and it will break if you don't pay attention.

While MC is sorting through the interview, Kiki suddenly calls her because there's an emergency. And then, MC finds out that the TV Station returned the submissions that have too much contrast between memory and reality.

MC: Thank you for your hard work. But, I would like to clarify why some of the submissions were rejected after being screened by my company?

As if anticipating my arrival, the other party speaks without haste.

Staff: The contrast between their previous and present lives is too apparent.

Staff: Look, the former starlet is now a common seller; the well-known boss is now retired to their family...

Staff: Their attitudes and words carry a strong sense of resentment and discontent.

MC: But the essence of social education programs is to fully reflect the true picture of society.

MC: I disagree that the focus is only on those who have a stable life.

Staff: Miss MC, forgive me for reminding you once again.

Staff: The program's original purpose was to promote social stability to support the city's redevelopment plan.

Staff: As for other things, if it can be achieved along the way then it'd be the icing on the cake. But if it can't be achieved then we can only give up.

I grip the script a bit harder, and the suspicions in my heart gradually become clear.

The TV Station's position is clear enough.

What they want is to put a specific person in the spotlight rather than expose the truth.

With the same approach as the City Hall in the redevelopment plan, they wanted to hear only words of obedience, not voices of other opinions.

Instead of wasting time on unnecessary negotiations, it is better to retreat and try to gain the initiative in other ways.

After thinking about this, I speak in a calm voice.

MC: We respect the station's arrangement. But this is collaborative filming, not an outsourcing project.

MC: My company must also have the opportunity of expression, and can not be pushed around in everything.

Staff: It's only natural that we won't interfere too much with the rest of the show. Please don't worry.

The business-like tone is also a concession. I can't say anything else except respectfully nod my head.

[Chapter 43-15]

So, just as the staff from the TV Station said, the process besides the submission review goes much smoother. MC secretly tells Kiki to 'fix' the wording of the contrasting submission so it won't get rejected. Once the schedule is set, they start to finalize other show details.

A week passed, and soon came the day of the program recording. MC dials Lucien's phone.

MC: I'm really sorry, I may be a few minutes late…

Hearing my anxious tone, Lucien's voice carries a touch of reassurance.

Lucien: Don't rush. Just take your time. I'll be waiting for you in the backstage lounge.

??: Professor Lucien, have some tea!

I froze momentarily as a cheerful and attentive stranger's voice came from the other end of the receiver.

MC: Is there someone meeting you already?

Lucien: Yeah, we had a nice chat, don't worry about it.

MC: Okay then, I'll see you later~

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

I hung up the phone with a bit of confusion. I hastily stop a taxi and rush to the TV station. When I arrived backstage, I saw Kiki standing outside the lounge, and she immediately approached me.

Kiki: Boss, all the guests have arrived and are chatting with Professor Lucien inside!

MC: Wait, it's the guests who are meeting with Lucien?

Kiki: Yeah, they were having such a good time, we couldn't even get in the conversation!

MC: Haha really, then I'll go and take a look. It would be best if you told people to get ready~

I pretend not to be surprised and laugh. Today's guests have the impression that they don't have a good personality to get along with, and Lucien has always disliked polite social interaction, so how can they…

At the same time, I push open the lounge door, and a polite question comes into my ears.

??: …So, Professor Lucien, what could be the reason for my grandson's sudden change in temper since his parents took him away?

I lighten my steps and see a few guests sitting on the couch, listening intently.

Lucien is wearing a polite smile on his lips, accepting the cup of tea handed to him by the old man. And as if noticing my movement, he looks at me through the crowd.

I wink at Lucien and naturally sit next to him. Lucien casually puts the tea on the table, then turns his head to the old man and explains gently.

Lucien: In developing children, their mirror neurons* are more active than adults. So, they're physiologically more susceptible to the influence of their surrounding environment.

(T/N: Mirror neurons are a type of neuron in the brain that fires both when an individual performs a certain action and when they observe another individual performing the same action. In other words, when you see someone else performing an action, your mirror neurons "mirror" that action in your own brain, as if you were performing it yourself.)

Lucien: If there is a sudden personality change, perhaps it is because there is someone in their new environment who has problems managing emotions. You can pay more attention to it.

Old Man: ... Indeed, his father brings people home twice a day to play mahjong! So that's where the root is!

Old Man: I've already lived two lifetimes combined and yet still don't understand how to raise children...

I pour another cup of tea, hand it to Lucien, and smoothly take over the conversation.

MC: How can you have two lifetimes?

Old Man: Just a few days ago, I got several years' worth of memories in my head!

Old Man: The neighborhood, hospital, and the central plaza where I walk through…. Each and every aspect of the picture is clear!

Lucien picks up the teapot and fills up a cup of tea for the old man.

Lucien: When it comes to the central plaza, I also have some impressions.

Lucien: From that memory, it seems that its clock tower was damaged by accident.

The middle-aged man is rubbing his glass of water, seemingly recalling something.

Man: Why don't I remember much about it…

Like throwing a stone into the lake, the crowd is either murmuring or pondering at the same time, I look at Lucien, and my gaze collides with his.

I understand what he is trying to do, and I pretend to be confused.

MC: If I think about it, I do remember a bit.

MC: The clock tower… It stopped working for several days before someone came to repair it, and there were complaints.

Noticing our conversation, the old man taps his cane and speaks in a definitive manner.

Old Man: Yes, I remember it clearly too!

Man: That being said, it seems to be the case…

My cell phone suddenly vibrates twice and makes an unnoticeable buzzing sound. I sweep a glance, secretly squeeze Lucien's palm, and then smile and get up to open my mouth.

MC: It's almost time to shoot. Please move to the dressing room and get ready for the stage~

MC: If there's anything else to discuss, let's save it for the stage.

The lighting lights up the big space, soft leather sofas are placed opposite to each other, and the right armrests are put next to the standing mic.

Lucien sits alone on the other side of the table and quietly listens, looking a little powerless. And the six guests seated on the opposite side are chatting together, showing relaxed laughter from time to time.

After the person next to them finished speaking, they began to share their "past life memories".

After 20 minutes of talking about his experience of living under a bridge, he put down his mic.

Middle-aged Man: My mouth is dry from talking… Okay, I've finished my speech. Professor Lucien, do you have any rebuttal to this?

Lucien lightly responds his fingertips gently tapping on the table.

Lucien: Interesting perspective indeed. But I wonder if that memory is all true…

Lucien: Because then the society we "experience" should also have the same details.

A girl sitting on the left side of the front seat is impatient and speaks up.

Girl: The mall I used to go to has changed half of its brands!

Lucien: But it is difficult to make reference to experiences that are too personal. Is there any evidence that is more general in nature?

Lucien cleverly pushes the argument back again. After contemplating for a moment, the girl hesitantly opens her mouth.

Girl: In the memory from that time, it seems that there was not so much Evolver as there is now, so should this be considered social evidence?

Lucien: Can you please describe it in detail?

Girl: Everyone lives a normal life, going to and from work every day, and we never heard of Evol or anything...

Lucien: Well, wasn't Evolver's existence hidden from the public eye until a few accidents exposed it?

Lucien said, carefully closing the documents in his hand.

Lucien: Most of the literature written on the theme of "Evol doesn't exist" has gone in that direction.

Lucien: I just looked at the pre-show questionnaire and see that you and everyone else on the other side of the table have seen or read similar works.

Lucien: So how can you be sure that your subconscious is not being influenced by the novels?

Lucien's words promptly cause a small discussion on the spot. The girl grits her teeth, unable to refute for a moment, but the old man beside her speaks with certainty.

Old Man: I can give you another example.

Old Man: In our previous life, the clock tower in the central plaza was shut down for several days because of an accident. Ask anyone else, and they'll remember it.

Old Man: This one should not be related to any novel!

Several other people at the guest table are showing their support, and Lucien even nods affirmatively.

Lucien: Indeed, this example can eliminate the baseline factor of cognitive formation based on past experience.

Lucien: But it also confirms that the anchoring effect* can influence judgment.

(T/N: The anchoring effect is a cognitive bias that causes people to rely too heavily on the first piece of information they receive when making decisions or judgments. This initial information serves as an "anchor" that influences subsequent thoughts and judgments. People tend to adjust their subsequent judgments from the initial anchor rather than starting from scratch, even if the initial information is irrelevant or arbitrary.)

Lucien: When acquiring information, people always use the information they hear first-hand as an anchor point, but rarely confirm its authenticity.

The old man heavily taps his cane and frowns.

Old Man: So many explanations. Are you trying to say that I also remember it wrong?

Old Man: Professor Lucien, don't you also remember this very well?

Lucien: What if I say that actually, it doesn't happen?

Lucien said, glancing at me off-stage. I pick up my walkie-talkie and whisper a few words to the director.

The screen at the back of the studio immediately displays a video.

"Why don't I remember much about it…"; "If I think about it, I do remember a bit."

On the screen, the discussion before and after the recording is replayed in its entirety.

Lucien's sight falls to their puzzled expression, and he lifts up the mic on the table. His deep voice is clearly transmitted to everyone's ears through the loudspeaker.

Lucien: (chuckle) I'm sorry, but what you all just described is a false memory.

Lucien: In fact, the recording had already started in the longue.

[Chapter 43-16]

The recording site suddenly goes into an uproar.

Some people stare blankly at the screen as if they haven't reacted; while others look at Lucien and retort in incredulous whispers.

After a few moments, the guests who finally understood the situation exchange glances in astonishment, then can't help but speak up.

Middle-aged Man: Professor Lucien, what do you mean by that?

Lucien adjusts the mic with his fingertips and calmly leans over.

Lucien: As you can see, the "clock tower failure" is just an event that the Producer and I made up on the spot using psychology.

Lucien: You have demonstrated that under herd mentality*, individuals will give up their own opinions and conform their behavior to others according to the group's influence.

(T/N: Herd mentality is a term used to describe the tendency of people to follow the behaviors, beliefs, and opinions of the group they belong to or the people around them. In other words, it refers to the way individuals are influenced by the actions and decisions of their peers or the majority, rather than making their own independent choices.)

Lucien: In the process of subconsciously transforming the collective memory into a part of their own memory, the present "overlapping memory" is formed.

After looking at each other, the girl in the guest seat slightly raises her voice.

Girl: B-but I have a picture of the clock tower failing in my mind! Because of the accident, the businesses near the clock tower were also closed for several days-

Lucien: -and during that period, many people in the neighborhood complained about the inconvenience of living there, didn't they?

Lucien spoke as if he had predicted the scene in the girl's memory.

The girl hesitantly nods her head. My eyes widen in astonishment behind the camera, and I silently mouth the word "amazing" to Lucien.

A little brilliant smile appears in his eyes. Lucien immediately turns his head and gives a gesture at the distant director. In the next second, the 3D image of the human brain suddenly emerges on the screen.

Everyone's gaze instantly converges on the screen. Lucien naturally moves closer in my direction and explains in a calm voice.

Lucien: Memory is not a single, continuous image but rather a collection or composition of multiple images.

Lucien: When the memory fragments are incomplete, they are automatically completed in the hippocampus according to the recollector's logic and beliefs.

Lucien: In other words, our memory isn't inherently infallible.

As the words were spoken, our distance was reduced to arm's length. Lucien extends his hand to me in the audience.

Lucien: In order to support this view, I have conducted a survey in advance.

Lucien: Can I ask Miss Producer to cooperate with me and distribute it to all the guests?

He said and held out his hand to me, his eyebrows slightly bent. I glance down at the script.

In the original setup, there is no such thing as a guest inviting a producer to the stage.

I let out an inaudible hmph, take his hand, walk up to the stage, handing out the survey files to the guests, and hear Lucien speak.

Lucien: Before this experiment, I also asked several staff members around me if they had seen this image in their memory.

Lucien: However, the results also confirmed that none of them had any impression of it.

Lucien: I think this should be enough to prove that the "clock tower failure doesn't actually happen" is not a one-sided story.

There are other low murmurs from the guests. A young man who looks like a college student takes the information I handed out and scans it, frowning at the refutation.

Student: But memory error is merely an individual phenomenon.

Student: As you mentioned earlier, other staff members are also experiencing new memory images… What is the explanation for this city-wide memory phenomenon?

Lucien gently shakes his head.

Lucien: I can't give a definite conclusion on this.

Lucien: There are various factors that influence memory. Maybe it comes from the comet, and maybe it's the influence of the overlapping city or something else we don't know yet.

Lucien: But from a neuroscience perspective, I can offer a direction to explore… Have you ever heard of the Mandela Effect?

Several guests shake their heads, looking a bit confused. Only the student thinks for a moment and then speaks first.

Student: You mean a collective memory that doesn't match the facts?

Lucien: Correct. It is possible that someone's memory is biased, and the wrong information is passed on by word of mouth.

Lucien: After a period of time, it became widely spread in society and created a large-scale false impression.

Old Man: ...This so-called Mandela effect sounds very mysterious. How can it be so easy to believe what others say?

The middle-aged man beside the old man tugs his sleeve and hurriedly whispers a few words.

The old man then remembers something and coughs embarrassedly.

Lucien meets the old man's gaze and smiles a little.

Lucien: As you have said, ideally, people would make judgments about the information they receive. However, when dealing with people we trust, we often unconsciously let down our defenses.

Lucien: Without the camera recording, perhaps the "clock tower failure" would have become a new Mandela effect.

The studio falls silent for a while, and many people look thoughtful. Lucien withdraws his gaze and turns his head to look at me.

Lucien: This concludes the arguments of the opposing side.

I take the microphone and look over to the other side of the room.

MC: Are there any more "contestants" on the other side who would like to present a rebuttal?

Student: Although I have no more argument backed up, I still feel unconvinced…

MC: That's fine. The contestants on the opposite side can keep their opinions to themselves.

I said, walking to the middle of the studio and speaking without haste.

MC: While this debate will have winners and losers, it does not mean that there is an opinion that is superior or inferior.

MC: The main purpose of this episode is not to draw conclusions about this phenomenon but rather to offer more possible explanations.

MC: Whether you think it's a deviation, an overlap, or even a migration...

MC: In the end, this is just a picture that suddenly appeared in the mind, and how to interpret it is a matter of personal freedom.

Some of the guests are in thought, and others are unconvinced as if they want to argue something.

My gaze falls to my side, and I see Lucien nodding imperceptibly.

The light shines on his face, making me clearly see myself in his deep eyes.

My originally nervous heart instantly calm down a bit. I withdraw my gaze and speak firmly.

MC: While choosing whether to believe in it or not, I hope you won't forget this.

MC: The most important thing is to hold the present life in your hands.

[Chapter 43-17]

A few days pass, and soon it's the day of the show's premiere.

My colleagues and I sit at our workstations and watch the reactions in the comments section with the utmost attention.

-I have reservations. I still can't accept the theory explained by Professor Lucien…

-I've wanted to say for a long time that giving up reality for an inexplicable picture is basically like putting the cart before the horse*, no?

(T/N: 本末倒置, literally means putting the cart before the horse is an idiom that means ignoring the actual important thing and instead focusing on the insignificant thing)

I exhale softly and hand the document back to Willow.

Even though the negative impact has not completely dissipated, there are more different voices than the previous one, which tended to be panic-stricken.

MC: Let's start preparing for the next episode. We can invite experts in physics to explain it from the perspective of another discipline.

MC: With the three days of time as focus, continue tracking the reactions in the comments section, and put together the top ten pages of comments.

MC: After all, the audience's reaction is the best choice to adjust the program's direction.

Willow: No problem, I'll get in touch now.

Willow takes the folder and leaves in a hurry. I get up, loosen up, and turn around a few times before picking up the phone on my desk.

The program is a big success, and it's time to tell Lucien the good news.

My phone suddenly starts ringing. Seeing the name appearing on the screen, I can't resist bending my eyes and happily picking it up.

MC: Good evening, Professor Lucien~

Lucien: Has something pleasant happened to you?

MC: The audience's response to this episode is better than expected~ it's all thanks to Professor Lucien's work!

Lucien: In that case, I'd like to ask the Great Producer for a small reward.

Lucien: If you have time, can you go to a banquet with me tonight?

MC: Then I have to look at my schedule first-

I pretend to do so, but his familiar figure suddenly enters my sight.

Lucien is standing downstairs, his black suit outlines his slender figure, and when he raises his hand, I can see the smooth lines of his shirt.

MC: …You sneak up on me!

Lucien: (chuckle) Can't I sneak up on Miss Producer?

A soft laugh comes from the other end of the phone. I laugh along with him, quickly pick up my bag and run downstairs.

I'm about to pull open the car door when I suddenly realize something.

MC: Wait, if I want to accompany you to the banquet, do I also have to go home and change my clothes…

Lucien: Don't worry. I've got you covered.

Lucien said while turning his head, motioning for me to look at the exquisite gift box in the rear seat.

Lucien: You can change in the car. I'll wait for you outside.

Such thorough preparation is indeed Lucien's style. I get into the back seat and open the gift box.

(T/N: I subtitled this bit bc the sexy voice and bgm is just so!)

*insert sexy shower bgm*

The delicate fabric, the fit, everything is impeccable, but the narrow space makes it impossible to tidy the tiny accessories behind me.

I bite my lips and finally knock on the car window for help.

MC: Lucien, my zipper...

Lucien's figure outside of the car pauses a little, turns around to look at me, and smiles.

Lucien: (chuckle) Let me help you.

The car door opens and closes again, and with a slight rustling sound, the cold touch of metal slowly climbs up my spine.

My heart beats a little faster. I hear Lucien's hoarse voice coming from behind me.

Lucien: (with THAT hoarse voice) Isn't it strange why I suddenly invited you to a banquet?

MC: Yes, a little… but whatever the reason, I'll say yes.

MC: After all, you've helped me a lot with this show.

Lucien: (whisper) Is that all?

A low whisper brushes my ear, like some kind of enticement. I clutch the hem of my dress and softly speak.

MC: And because I trust in you unconditionally.

The light of a passing car flashes through the window, illuminating the silence inside the car for a moment. Lucien's fingertips linger on the back of my neck, stirring up subtle tingles.

He speaks softly.

Lucien: (chuckle) …You look good in this.

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

The car runs across the long road, drives through several streets, and finally stops in front of a mansion.

I take Lucien's hand and get out of the car, walking along with the crowd to the inside.

The interior of the spacious hall is brightly lit, with gentle music flowing. I suddenly think of something and poke Lucien, who stands beside me.

MC: Speaking of which, what's the theme of this banquet? I don't know the identities of the other people yet.

Lucien takes a glass of white wine from the waiter's hand, and his lips curl slightly.

Lucien: (chuckle) There are no influential people here today, just ordinary citizens. As for the theme, can I keep it a secret for now?

I narrow my eyes when I see how frankly he is trying to keep me in suspense, and I cooperate by picking up another glass of wine from the tray.

MC: Of course, it's useless to hide it from me. After all, I can find out within ten minutes.

Lucien raises his eyebrows with interest and takes a shallow sip.

Lucien: Then I'll look forward to how you solve the mystery.

MC: I won't let you down.

I said and gently clinked my glass with him. I straighten my dress and walk naturally toward the crowd, sweeping my eyes covertly over everyone I pass.

An office worker in a suit with dark circles under his eyes; a young girl with bright makeup, taking selfies in the corner…

My gaze slips through the crowd, and I feel even more puzzled.

The people here are of different ages and backgrounds and don't even seem to know each other… For a while, I hardly find any common ground.

Why does the person who holds the banquet gather them together?

I walk while thinking and slowly paying attention to the conversations around me.

Old Man: ...I was telling my neighbor about my past life when I got the invitation, and I didn't know what I was being invited to…

Girl: …Me? I remember I was a starlet. How can I stand at the counter all day long like this…

Middle-aged Woman: …I should put my career first. If I grit my teeth and insist, now I'm sure I'll be a small boss…

The vague exchange of voices comes to my ears, and I can't help but be struck by them.

These experiences… I think I've seen them in the rejected submissions?!

Lucien walks to my side at some point. I come close to him and lower my voice.

MC: The people here should be those who have a great contrast between their previous and current lives.

MC: We've received submissions from some of them before.

I said, make a great show of being in earnest and tugging at the hem of Lucien's coat.

MC: Lucien, is this the secret of this party?

Lucien's gaze indifferently sweeps through the crowd and slowly falls back on me, with a hint of intrigue, gently shaking the glass in his hand.

Lucien: Hmm… only 30% of the guesses were correct.

MC: I can't believe it's only 30...

Before I can finish my sentence, a strange and unfriendly voice suddenly comes from behind me.

Man: ...Oi! Hey! I'm calling you!

I turn around suspiciously and see a strange man in a suit standing behind me without me knowing, his eyes darting back and forth over my body.

I'm a little displeased to be called out so rudely and to be gawked at in a blatant manner.

MC: Sir, I think you are mistaken…

Man: I think I've seen you somewhere before!

He suddenly clapped his hands and loudly interrupted me.

Man: You're the Producer of "Miracle Finder", right?

Man: In that memory, I was interviewed by you and Professor Lucien!

[Chapter 43-19]

My eyes linger on the man for a few seconds, and I speak hesitantly.

MC: ...I'm sorry, we've interviewed a lot of guests, but what do you mean by "that memory"?

Man: Don't play dumb with me. Remember the elevator malfunction? You approached me to talk about it!

MC: Elevator malfunction…

My hand holding the wine glass tightens slightly, searching for information in my head, and finally, a blurred face emerges in the depths of distant memory.

=Flashback Start=

MC: Hello, I'm a reporter for Miracle Finder. Today I'd like to interview you about the elevator malfunction incident.

Elevator operator: Miracle Finder? Are you talking about that silly program where they go lookin' for superpowers?

Elevator operator: What do you guys know! What do you know?!

Elevator operator: I'm not like you two. I've never used this power! I'm just a normal person. This power has no use to me at all!

=Flashback End=

The air seems to freeze for a moment, and my heartbeat suddenly quickens a little bit.

....The elevator malfunctions incident did occur in Loveland city before it got restarted.

At that time, Lucien and I were following this clue and found Dr. Song, which led to the subsequent events related to the BS.

The person in front of me is actually the elevator operator who was interviewed in that incident...?

A little bit of uneasiness suddenly surges in my heart. I subconsciously look at Lucien beside me and meet his gaze.

He doesn't say anything and just quietly looks at me. A delicate light flows at the bottom of his quiet eyes, inexplicably calming me down.

I take a deep breath, turn to the man, and speak.

MC: I'm sorry. I can't remember which episode I worked with you on, but thank you for your cooperation in the past.

MC: We do often invite passersby to share their views on camera.

MC: I just heard you mention "that memory"…

MC: Coincidentally, our recent program is based on the theme of "memory overlap".

Man: I know, the Mandela effect, right?

Man: My wife and kids think it makes sense, but I don't believe it! That memory is definitely real!

MC: Isn't it a bit too arbitrary for you to say that?

MC: Well, if you don't feel convinced by the perspective of neuroscience, you can follow us later on at…

Man: No need to wait until later. I want to discuss it with you now!

MC: …

Seeing that many people nearby already have eyes on us, I have no choice but to give in.

MC: Well, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this.

The man licks his lower lip and gestures a little excitedly.

Man: Here's the thing, I always thought my Evol was useless. Until I saw in "that memory" that it could be very strong.

Man: I was skeptical at first, but after using it frequently, as I remembered, my Evol has really improved a lot.

Man: If the memory is truly false, why does it work?

His question is not difficult to explain with Lucien's theory. I ponder for a moment, rub the wine glass and open my mouth.

MC: All abilities can be enhanced with regular use, and Evol is no exception.

MC: Now, there are many TV shows and novels with Evol as the theme. Maybe the images that facilitate your power as you say…

MC: Is it actually the unconscious psychological suggestion from these sources?

Facing my question, the man seems to be momentarily taken aback.

Finally, there is some room for maneuvering in the tense atmosphere. I feel slightly relieved and look at Lucien.

He's looking at me with a faint smile but doesn't approach me. He expresses approval, but it's also as if he's observing something.

A few doubts arise in my mind, and I suddenly hear a cold snort from the man. In the next second, the glass in his hand suddenly floats up.

I instinctively take a half step back as I see the man heavily swing his hand. The glass shot down violently, denting the hard marble floor!

MC: ...!

A sudden sharp sound shatters the tranquility of the hall and quickly ignites the hidden fires surrounding it.

Guests: There are other people here. Can you watch out?

Guests: These Evolver are just too arrogant! If it's anything like that memory-

The man turns a deaf ear to the exclamation around him and just provocatively looks at me.

Man: If it is an ordinary enhancement, you can still use your theory to muddle through.

Man: But my Evol is exactly the same as the picture in my head, no matter the scale of control or the effect… What's going on?

As soon as the man's voice falls, the chatter around the room grows even louder. Countless curious or questioning gazes and whispers almost pin me in place.

Man: Say, Producer, how do you explain this?

My heart surges with a little trepidation. I brace myself and open my lips.

MC: I...

??: If Miss MC doesn't know how to answer, why don't you ask your program consultant to help you explain?

A strong voice abruptly comes from the side, and Leto, dressed in a tuxedo, slowly walks towards me.

MC: What are you doing here…

In the blink of an eye, I always feel that something has gone off the rails where I can't see it, and now I can only watch it continue to move forward.

After Leto finished speaking, Lucien stepped forward, standing and blocking a little in front of me.

Lucien: You just said that Miss Producer and I came to interview you together, right?

Man: Yeah, what's the matter?

Lucien: I remember the first thing I said to you was-

Lucien: "You're just gonna walk away from the problem and abandon your family?"

Lucien cautiously examines the man's eyes and suddenly smiles.

Lucien: It seems that this time, you have a much better life than you remember. I guess you don't have to worry about the compensation anymore.

Along with Lucien's words, the man's eyes grow wider, and his lip trembles.

Man: Professor Lucien, are you telling me that…

Lucien: Yes, what I'm trying to say is that the memory that we all have in our minds is indeed real.

[Chapter 43-20]

Guest A: That memory is real?!

Guest B: ...So that means I can turn over a new leaf?

There was a moment of silence, and then a muffled exclamation of surprise erupted. This time, it was even louder than when I saw the man hit the floor with Evol.

MC: Lucien...?

I widen my eyes in disbelief, looking from Lucien's side profile, slowly fall to the ecstatic crowd, and finally stop at Leto's smile.

What's going on?

Why would Leto come here, and why would Lucien suddenly say such things to everyone when the show is trying to turn the tide?

MC: That's not right! I…

The words that are about to come from my mouth are stopped by a hand. Lucien uses the hand hidden behind him to squeeze my wrist with a firm grip.

And the man, after the initial excitement, raises a new question.

Man: Professor Lucien, why did you give another set of explanations in the program?

Lucien: Well, I would like to ask Mr. Leto to answer this question.

Lucirn raises his other hand to make a gesture of invitation, and the hall is surging with applause. Leto doesn't refuse, smiling, and comes to the center of the crowd.

Leto: Because in this society, only a small percentage of people have brains - that is, those of you whom I have invited to this banquet.

Leto: For most people, life just needs to be stable. As for what the truth is, they don't care about it.

Leto: The TV station and her company have partnered on that program to meet this demand and allow them to move on with their lives peacefully.

Leto: In contrast, you have the power to manipulate society because you have superior information and judgment.

Leto: Everything in the future will depend on your wishes.

Leto: As for what you all are going through, I had the general picture before I came here.

Leto: Please rest assured that I will do everything in my power to help you restore your former lives. The future of this city needs your strength to help build it together…

Under the reflection of the crystal lamp, Leto looks calm and powerful, making people subconsciously want to listen to his words.

As I look at the thunderous applause of the ballroom, I can't stop feeling chills around my body as if an invisible shadow is quietly coalescing.

The attention focus of these guests is no longer on me and Lucien as they surround Leto after he finishes his speech-

After all, in their eyes, Leto is the one who can give them a future.

Looking at the ridiculous scene in front of me, I stiffly raise the corners of my mouth and drink the wine in my glass.

Lucien: (whisper) Your glass is empty. Would you like some more?

I deliberately ignore his words, but my gaze is unrelentingly fixed on him, which in turn makes him chuckle lightly.

Lucien: I hope Mr. Leto is the cause of your anger and annoyance, not me.

He said aggrievedly as if he was being wronged and gently squeezed my fingers. I vent on him by pinching the palm of his hand, and I take a step closer to him.

MC: Are you not going to explain anything?

Lucien: I was going to.

Lucien: I was going to say, if I've upset you so much, would you be willing to give me a chance to explain? At least for the sake of working on your show this month?

MC: Okay, so you have to explain it well.

Lucien deepens his smile. He clasps my hand and pulls me to the corner of the hall.

When the hidden curtain slightly covers the two of us, he speaks in a low voice.

Lucien: I'm sorry. What I just purposely said to that person was a way to reduce the trouble.

MC: Reduce what trouble? It's clearly making more and more trouble…

I still can't understand it, and I turn my face away a little angrily.

MC: You clearly know that…

MC: In addition to solving social problems, I actually want to use the influence of the TV station…

MC: To make people who know Queen's identity doubtful about their memory and won't try to find me.

MC: If these remarks from Leto get out, my previous efforts may be in vain, both for me and for the program…

Lucien puts down his wine glass and approaches me, his body enveloping me from behind.

His cold fingertips gently touch my cheek, silently signaling me to turn around as if to guide me to re-examine everything in front of me.

Lucien: He won't pass it on because he doesn't have the ability to do that yet - and your presence here is proof of that.

MC: And what about the others?

Lucien: These people? You should've found something in common with them.

Lucien: There is a huge difference between their past and present lives.

Lucien: And these people are subconsciously unwilling to accept reality. They will firmly believe that what is in memory is the life they should have.

Lucien: This is human nature. A person instinctively prefers to blame other factors for failure rather than acknowledge it.

Lucien: Whether it's other people, timing… or fate.

Lucien's tail note is slightly raised. All kinds of countenances passed in front of his eyes like a grand farce.

Lucien: Therefore, there is no amount of arguing that will sway them from their point of view. From the very beginning, the outcome of your argument with them is already predetermined.

I open my lips. I always feel that I can't be fully convinced.

It is true that these people already have a predetermined stance. And if I insist on refuting, perhaps just like what Lucien said, it won't change anything…

But at least in front of us, there is another choice than to add fuel to the flames...

Thinking of this, I can't help but look up and stare at him with some annoyance.

MC: So, is this the secret of the banquet that you want to show me?

Lucien: No. At least not exactly.

Apart from a faint smile on Lucien's face, there was also a hint of helplessness.

He slightly leans over and raises his hand to bring my hair to the back of my ear.

Lucien: I want you to see that not everyone has the same stance as you.

Lucien: Different stances pursue their own interests, and from these interests, motives are created.

Lucien: For those who desire peace, there will certainly be those who want to create as much danger as possible. After all, it is in the chaos that many possibilities can emerge.

Lucien: Holding the power that everyone secretly covets and fears, you are bound to become a target.

Lucien: Rather than letting you get hurt and suffer afterward, it is better for you to discover these unsheathed blades in advance.

The distance between us is so close that I can almost see my reluctant expression in Lucien's eyes.

MC: It's my inescapable destiny… Is that what you think?

Lucien: A person's talent will arouse the envy of others. It's not your fault, nor is it the power's fault.

Lucien: But as CORE, you have to face the truth.

Lucien's words were as precise and cold as a scalpel, but his warm fingers kept rubbing my fingertips reassuringly over and over again.

MC: I have one last question… How did you get the invitation to the banquet when Leto doesn't invite irrelevant people?

Lucien: You already have a guess, don't you?

MC: You're working with him?

Lucien: No, it's just a mutual borrowing of "power".

Lucien: Just like how I produce a program with the help of your identity. Except that his ambition is going to be even greater.

I stiffen and raise the corners of my mouth.

MC: It seems that stance is not so important as long as it is useful to you.

Lucien's voice sounds soft as if it is trying to bewitch.

Lucien: That's the more common rule in the shadow of the world.

Lucien: Besides themselves, all a person can rely on is their power.

Lucien: Like being CORE. It is more than a target, it can also attract people to follow behind you.

Lucien: If you take one small step forward, all the dangers now and then will no longer be a threat.

Lucien: Because you can achieve far more than that.

The moonlight is gentle. A thin curtain suddenly fluttered between us, separating our eyes from each other.

I can't see Lucien's face clearly, but I can feel that he is staring intently at me as if waiting for an answer.

Will it be a passive struggle? Or should I take the initiative to get into the center of this vortex?

After a few moments of silence, I raise my hand and brush away the curtain. I take half a step forward and approach Lucien, meeting his gaze straight on.

MC: ...Those who will follow me, will that also include you?

Lucien's voice softens a little.

The moonlight on his face transparently outlines a sense of danger, making it impossible for anyone to move their eyes.

Lucien: (softly) I've been following behind you since a long time ago.

[Lux’s Rambling Corner]

Okay, before I start rambling a little, can I point out how his last sentence is directly referencing this part-

Lucien, a character who usually acts as a guide, letting her to take the lead and makes the decision because he trusts her is always :"""".

I’ll only ramble a little bc Lucien already explains his point, and this official summary already explains it well enough ahah- but I think this is a pretty fun and fluffy chapter. There’s one single knife when MC asks him about his regret, but that’s it~

This batch of chapters opens with Lucien talking with Xiao Yue, which can foreshadow future main story updates.

I love how the first part of the chapter already foreshadows his plan, like MC ‘borrowing’ Lucien’s identity/status. And their talk with the physics student. You can force everyone to have the same point of view. In addition to people wanting peace, some simply want chaos and danger. MC’s program won’t 100% work because they’re trying to hide the truth.

Lucien is very aware of the possible dangers, so he approaches Leto. Offering cooperation so he can have some kind of control over the situation rather than let it develop quietly like what happened in S2 ch 13-14 ((honestly,,,, Leto is a bit dumb for not thinking that MC’s program can be used to filter people LOL)).

In this chap, everyone basically used each other (mutual “borrowing” of power). Lucien used MC’s program to filter out those people and hold his end of the bargain; MC used the TV station’s influence to also protect herself in addition to solving the social issues; and Leto used MC’s program to stabilize the situation. Lucien cooperates with both sides, and they all get what they want, but I think it’s obvious whose side he leans on ahah. After all, even though he appears to support Leto in the banquet, his actual intention is to make her prepare for danger in advance (and lol, the ‘elite people’ that Lucien filters are a bit half-assed >_> 9 out 10 of them feel like they’d easily betray someone if they can).

In terms of dealing with the danger surrounding MC, I think he never really changes from season 1. He consistently advocates taking the first initiative to walk into the game. He trusts that she’s powerful enough to fight the danger. Power isn’t a bad thing, but since it attracts danger, it’s better to change from passive to active. And he always asked her choice again and again whether she wanted to face the truth calmly or to be fully protected by him. Since she chooses the former, he’s willing to accompany her choice by following from behind and becoming her ‘strength’.

#THAT CAR SCENE #is dis really main story #not a date????#mlqc lucien #mr. love queen's choice #mlqc spoiler #mlqc cn #mlqc #it's all according to keikaku #-lucien probably

45 notes · View notes

larissa-the-scribe · 2 months

Text

Terrarium Lights, Pt. 3.7

Previously on Terrarium Lights: so they know who the ghost is. What now? (Next part >>here)

Gail considered heading back to the lighthouse the next day, but, despite her seeming abundance of free time, she did, in fact, have duties to attend to.

She waffled about it over breakfast before deciding that Jonathon knew where to find her. Presumably, he wouldn’t have trouble coming here, since he had been here before and overall seemed in a decent state to travel.

It still all felt like a bit much, a dream where inexplicably you know all the answers but don't know why, and you’re stuck moving in accordance with it all until you wake up and go “what on earth?” She felt that she was moving like she should in this dream, as much as she knew how, but it was all rather disorienting. Maybe a day of cleaning and gardening and being in her own home would help her feel more grounded.

"I suppose other worlds are a little grander, beyond my thoughts," she said to the Lord as she prepared to sweep the house from top to bottom. "I don't quite know as I understand all that was told me yesterday, but, then again, I don't see as that I fully have to."

Half-way through sweeping the second floor, she leaned on her broom and chuckled to herself. "I suppose it is odd that I'd be right fine with the concept of a ghost, showing up in my own garden at that, but then balk at the idea of somewhere I didn't know of. Why, most of this world is a place I don't know, and I can't say that I properly know my own tiny little corner of it. You made all of the knowns and unknowns, and You know, and I'd say that's what matters in the end."

That satisfied her, mostly.

By the end of the day, she felt much better. More awake, and more content with the answers belonging to a dream. Sometimes you just had to accept things as they were. Perhaps she might know more some day, but that day hadn’t come yet. She’d just have to wait for it and keep her eyes open.

For now, she was helping a ghost that God had sent her, one who needed to get back into his body after he'd been lost in another world. Simple enough, in a way.

She didn't know how much she was truly helping, but Samuel—Jonathon, now—did seem to appreciate being able to talk to someone. At the very least, she was involved in the goings on, if only for emotional support.

At the end of the day, she was more tired than she anticipated being. Scrapping her plans of baking that evening, she contented herself with a simple egg sandwich, and once again headed to bed early.

***

She was awoken by insistent, though faint, knocking at her bedroom door.

It took her brain several seconds to realize, through a haze of sleep, what she was hearing, and that it wasn't any of her children—seeing as they had all grown up and moved out—and her husband wasn't there.

Gail sat bolt upright and reached for the double-barreled plasmagun Michael kept loaded and primed for her.

"Hello?" She asked, sleepiness blunting the tough edge she'd been going for.

"Um, hi," said Jonathon's voice from the other side. "I'm sorry if I startled you. Are you… um… awake?"

Gail shook her head to clear some of the cobwebs from them. Wrapping a shawl about her, she tumbled her way to the door. "Well, I am now," she mumbled, tugging the door open.

As her senses caught up with her and she could better see the windows in the stairwell, she could tell that it wouldn't be long before dawn broke.

"Ah… I… I may be a bit early," Jonathon said apologetically, gesturing in a vague manner with his hands. "It’s occurring to me now that I… don't really remember what sleep schedules are."

"Well, I usually sleep longer than dawn," she said, "but I suppose I'm awake now. How can I help you?"

"Oh, um. Well. I didn't want to go into your bedroom, so I wasn't really sure if you were awake. I… can come back later?"

Gail could feel aches in her bone, and a gust of cold threatening her from beyond her blanket. "I believe we may have to set some boundaries in the future," she said with a sigh. "But, as I said, I am awake now. I would have been in an hour or so, anyway. So, what's been eating at you?"

Jonathon looked down at the floorboards, shoulders pulled up to his ears. "Well… I found Samuel."

There was a haggard look in his eyes. Gail guessed that he may have been out searching for the past two nights. Ghosts—or Jonathons, at least— apparently didn’t need sleep, but whatever he’d been doing had taken a toll on him. She drummed her fingers against the edge of the doorframe. "Go sit down in the dining area, and I'll be dressed and down there in a tad."

Perhaps Gail should have been thinking more about the situation, but she was still foggy from sleep. Automatically, she dressed herself and washed her face and arranged her hair, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders to ward off the early morning chill.

She found Jonathon sitting on the table, his legs dangling and swaying ever so slightly as he stared into nothingness, shoulders hunched over.

It occurred to her that his eyes had been staying consistently colored lately. Hopefully that was a good thing.

Gail came down and half-sat, half-leaned on the table beside him.

"It's… um… it wasn’t a very nice sight." He said quietly.

"I see." Gail pulled her shawl closer.

"He's about half-way between here and the lighthouse," he said, “if you go along the coast. I found him this morning."

"How do you know it was him?" Gail asked.

"He was still there."

"Ah."

His shoulders hunched further into themselves. "I… I didn't know what to do. I ran away before he saw me. But… I think I heard him calling after me. And then I found myself here again. So I went to see if you were awake, and then…." He trailed off.

Gail chuckled. "And then, here we are."

"Sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"It's fine," Gail patted his knee as best she could. "My children have often woken me far earlier with far less reason."

He gave a half-smile response that was more attempt than success.

"So, now that you've found him, what would you like to do?"

"I don't know." Jonathon buried his face in his hands. "I don't know if I can face him. I don't remember hardly anything, and I left him for several weeks, and I don't even know what our relationship ended up being like. What if I did something bad, and now he hates me, and I have no idea? If… if he's still here, is it because of that? Is he… is he dead, because of me?"

"You have only had positive things to say and remember about him," Gail pointed out. "Besides, consistently you’ve grasped ideas and feelings behind your memories, even if you don’t know the actual memories themselves. Hypothetically, that would indicate you would have far more negative feelings associated with your friend if something had gone wrong. So if you don't have any solid reason to assume something horrible happened, I'd say your fears are just working against you right now."

“That’s true,” he admitted glumly. “But also, there’s just… I don’t know. Even that aside, even knowing where he is… that should be a good thing. But it’s… not? It still is, but it doesn’t make me feel better. Which is a selfish way of looking at it, but… I don’t know. I can’t face him. I can’t go talk to him."

#wakey wakey eggs and an existential child #gail goffrey #the ghost #terrarium lights #inklingschallenge #inklings challenge #inklings challenge 2023 #team: lewis #genre: portal fantasy #theme: burial #theme: visiting the sick #story: finished #salt and light #scribe writes #scribe does inklings #first draft

6 notes · View notes

svquence · 2 years

Text

⋆ ★ “18, what a nightmare”

✿ pairing! quantum jumper!yang jungwon x reader ✿ genre! sci-fi (?) ✿ wc! 1.4k ✿ warnings! kinda angsty, happy ending, one curse word lmao, this is a mess

❀ A/N! i added limits to quantum jumping for the sake of the fic. this is pure fiction! therefore don’t take this as how quantum jumping really works. almost everything said here is just for the effect of the fic. Once again im a new writer so bare with me. Love u guys!

———————————————————————

If there was one thing Jungwon could’ve changed, it would’ve been his life purpose. Oh, how he wishes he could’ve been just a normal guy, one that could finish education, engage in things he enjoys, maybe even find a lover that he could spend the rest of his days with. Yet, Jungwon was not able to get that. The young man he wished to be, wasn’t in his reach.

His purpose was to travel in between realities, explore the bigger part of the universe and find answers to what the higher beings wished to know. Tho, Jungwon never knew why he was the one chosen to do this, but he had no choice but to obey and no chance of changing his mission.

The red haired boy’s life started when he was born in Korea, thinking he was meant to live a normal life just like the people around him, yet it wasn’t like that, and it would never be like that. From a child who everyone thought had an incredible imagination, to a young man with a mission, therefore being a quantum jumper. All of his life, Jungwon had vivid dreams every night of things he couldn’t even understand, he sometimes found himself in places that he couldn’t even explain, but no one understood him when he came back. No one believed him, thus the young boy was always viewed as just an adorable imaginative child. Eventually, he had to give up trying to explain his situation, which made everything harder.

It was never his choice for his life to play like this. If there was one thing he regretted most, tho, it was meeting you. But at the same time, it was one of the best things that could’ve happened to him. Being childhood friends, ever since you talked to him in primary school, to growing up having a crush on you. If he knew that this was his fate, he would’ve never made plans for your guys’ future, never gotten attached to you, or even talked to you. But he did all of those things and regret is now suffocating him.

The poor boy didn’t even have any idea of what was waiting for him. Thats how he found himself in his bed, right before his 18th birthday, planning how his birthday would go and how he would confess his feelings to you. He was so ready, equally happy and excited as well. Little did he know that in that night, he would cut ties with this reality for way too long. Longer than he wanted to. As he fell asleep, he imagined himself being with you. Of course he did, because you too felt the same way. You both showed it, its just that one had to take a step forward and that would’ve been him. But now, he couldn’t. He wasn’t aware of it, at least.

When he found himself in yet another inexplicable place, he was less than not phased, because this has been going on forever. One thing he didn’t know, was that this time, he wasn’t going back.

As he saw how much time has passed without him going back, he was confused and especially anxious. Was he going to lose his birthday? His confession? He couldn’t. Even if his body was still there, doing everything he planned to do, he wanted to be there. He wanted to feel it.

He kept thinking that he needs to wake up, he was trying his hardest to pull his awareness back to his body, but that was until an unknown energy, yet with a bright and positive aura came to his current body and talked to him in the sweetest yet saddest tone he ever heard. “Please stop trying, Jungwon. You have a mission to finish. Going back isn’t a choice yet” He was confused, but he was more shocked than anything. The moment this being of light stopped sharing its message, he looked back at it and screamed as he felt tons of emotions at once “What the fuck is going on? Why can’t i go back? WHAT mission?” he spilled out as tears swelled up in his eyes. He could feel that this energy was protective, hence he immediately calmed down after shouting at it out of anger. He felt in a way, calm. “You’ll find out, for now i can’t give you any answers, but i will guide you the best i can. Good luck, Jungwon” the energy said as it slowly started disappearing into thin air. The moment he tried to reach for it, it was gone. All that could be heard after was Jungwon’s screams and cries, him begging for it to all be dream. He couldn’t see his parents, friends and especially you for so long. Yet he got up, as he reminded himself that he just had to finish the mission in order to go back. He will see all of you again, no way he could give up. It couldn’t take that long, right?

As for you? That day you woke up ecstatic because it was your best friend’s and crush’s birthday! Oh, little did you know, that a part of Jungwon was out there, struggling to see you again. Yet, you would never notice, because Jungwon? He was still here, with you. He just wasn’t aware of it.

Your best friend was finding information and answers to so much stuff, he met so many different beings, but his only focus was still on you. All he did was for you, and it took him thousands of years to finally finish his purpose. Although, in your timeline, only 65 years have passed. For one second, Jungwon didn’t forget you.

The moment he was congratulated, his questions were answered and he was given the free will to finally travel wherever he wanted, the boy was ecstatic. Yet, it still took him way too long to find his original timeline again, because even tho he could, he didn’t know how to travel where he wanted.

As he saw himself in his original timeline, the boy, now temporarily an old man was found in a small yet beautiful house. He rose from the bed, and as he recalled his memories from this body, he realized the things he feared most. His parents were long gone, his friends were now old and all married & ill, and you, his now wife, was dead. When he tried to get out of bed in order to analyze his surroundings, he realized that it was all true. He, himself, was now old. Which he wouldn’t have hated, but he didn’t see any of his loved ones or himself grow up. As fast as he could, he reached your grave, which wasn’t far from the house. Everything was so beautiful, your “forever place” was covered in beautiful flowers, perfectly positioned under a tree which gave it the prettiest shadow ever seen, yet it was the saddest sight he saw in all of his years. As he stared at the name thats carved on the decorated piece of stone, the name he sighted was yours, and it broke him.

And as tears left his eyes, thats when he decided, that no matter what, he would find a way to travel to another reality where everyone he loved most wasn’t out of his life. And he did, but it took him so long to learn and finally be able to reach it. He jumped in between realities for so long. Nevertheless, he never gave up.

As he woke up in his original bedroom that he fell asleep in the night before everything happened, he was enthusiastic. Before he could even recall his memories from this body, in order to tell if he was in his desired place, he saw his parents, but more importantly you, staring at him from the doorway. When he spotted a cake with the numbers 1 and 8 on it, as you and his parents screamed “Happy birthday, Jungwon!” he finally sighed in relief. That’s the moment where the red haired boy realized that it was finally over. He could finally live the life he always dreamed of. In the end, he was free.

109 notes · View notes

late-to-the-magnus-archives · 1 month

Text

Corrupted, chapter 18 - a TMA by Malevolent crossover

The night after a shadow-attack, knife-wounds, and heavy drinking, Tim has a lot to lose. Every step seems to bring him closer to those who would eat Hastur... and Tim finds the idea of losing this arrogant, ridiculous god less appealing by the day.

Lucky for him, Elias has a plan. But are Elias' plans ever really lucky for anyone?

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

Hello, all! It's been a while. To sum up so far:

- Tim opened a book he shouldn't have, and the King in Yellow now dwells inside him.

- The King has been on the run from Kayne for thousands of years.

- In a stroke of genius (???), Hastur chose to come to THIS world - where the Fears have devoured the gods they could catch, and driven out the ones they couldn’t.

- It’s a race now against time. Kayne has promised to kill Hastur; the Eye, at least, knows Hastur is here, and the others will soon; through some dubious choices Tim is now tied to the Magnus Institute; Daisy is on his trail, and so far can’t be deterred. And Jon, for some inexplicable reason, insists on tagging along to see what happens.

Any port in a storm, right? Well. Elias' home is certainly some kind of harbor…

AO3

————

It is a miserable night.

Bad dreams, the kind that wake him shaking and tense; flashes of lightning through closed eyes, though when he opens them, there is no sign of a storm; and that constant, unending, inescapable feeling of being watched.

Tim wakes feeling like shit, and can’t completely blame the alcohol. It was a miserable night on the heel of many miserable nights and many miserable days and many miserable years.

Though… he has to admit to himself as he grunts his way awake that the last few days haven't been so bad. Maybe it’s not feeling alone, though that's insane because this is temporary and Hastur is more dangerous than he is friendly.

Or maybe it’s because Hastur understands him.

That is a bizarro realization, and it hits like a brick. His normal experience of thinking adjacent to other people instead of alongside, of misunderstandings and the need to explain jokesâ€¦ none of that is here with Hastur.

If Hastur were a person, Tim would be leery (he knew a narcissist when he saw one), but might still try to get close. Might still try to charm. Probably even seduce. He likes Hastur. He can handle that bluffing bullshit just fine.

Or maybe all of this is the alcohol, and he’s just being lonely. He sits on the bed, slumped forward, elbows on his thighs, and sighs.

Your breath could use some improvement, says Hastur, amused.

“Yeah, yeah,” says Tim, and staggers to the bathroom. If someone is watching, he hopes they’re having fun, because he’s about to see a morning too-much-booze experience that nobody ever likes.

Brushed, showered, clothed in last night’s clothes (clean and pressed, as promised), he makes his way into the hall.

It was very strong liquor, says Hastur.

“You’re hungover, too?” grumps Tim. “Fuck. Sorry.”

Worth it.

Odd. “Why?”

I like you relaxed, says Hastur. I like your responses to things.

To things. To what things? The end of last night is very fuzzy. “Sure,” says Tim. “I think we should drink in the privacy of our own home, though.”

Oh, I agree, Hastur says, positively rumbling it.

Tim decides to pretend he didn’t say our and rubs his eyes. “Save the sexy-times voice for later, yeah? When I’m not feeling nauseated.”

There is an easy fix, you know.

Tim stops at the top of the stairs. He hears Jon and Elias down there, talking in the kitchen; their voices are not raised, not distressed, so he feels he can take a moment. “You want me to use magic.”

Yes.

“I thought we’d established I’m terrible at this?” Tim says weakly.

No, Tim, no, Hastur murmurs. Far from terrible. You are brilliant; powerful; a solar storm in a human body. You wish to avoid losing more body-parts to me? Wish to avoid setting more lions loose, or any other mishap? I want the same thing. Therefore, there is one solution: together, we practice.

Tim exhales slowly. “Hastur…”

Trust me. Trust me, Tim, at least this one time, and we’ll see how we can build from there.

Tim wants to trust. Maybe that’s foolish, but he does. “Let’s talk after breakfast.”

Assuming you can keep it down.

Tim wrinkles his nose. “It's party-time at casa Bouchard,” he announces, and marches down.

Elias and Jon are in the kitchen at the table, and in very different conditions. Elias is, of course, pristine; he looks like he stepped out of a magazine aimed at CEOs: bland, perfect, unassuming, expensive.

Jon looks like shit.

“Did you sleep at all?” Tim blurts.

Jon looks up at him mid-sentence. His hair is mussed; his eyes are red; his clothes have, unsettlingly, not been cleaned or pressed, and have gone brown with his blood. “What?” he says.

“Did you even leave the kitchen?” says Tim, increasingly horrified.

Jon stares at him, holds up a sheaf of papers, and shakes it.

“Right, I don’t speak paper flaps, so maybe we should take care of you first,” says Tim, approaching like Jon is a wounded deer.

“Tim,” says Jon, sounding ill. “You don’t understand. It goes so far back.”

“Tell me about it upstairs, all right?” says Tim, pulling his chair out.

“No, not yet! I need to know about Alexandria,” Jon protests, but he does not fight as Tim steers him toward the stairs.

“She’ll wait,” says Tim, deadpan.

“It’s not a woman! It’s a place!” says Jon, who, if he had feathers, would be one big ruffled ball. “Oh. You’re joking.”

“Yes, boffin, I’m joking,” says Tim, steering him toward the stairs.

Jon is now red. “I wasn’t finished,” he whines, climbing with Tim’s hand at his back.

“You’ll finish later.” Tim glances back.

Elias has not moved. He sits there, watching them both, doing that thing where he somehow feels like a caricature made of all eyes if one isn’t looking directly at him.

Why did we think kipping here was a good idea, again? thinks Tim.

Because otherwise, some horrible thing was going to hunt you two down, says Hastur.

Jon gasps, trips, and goes down on the stairs, banging his shins.

“Whoa, easy!” says Tim. “You okay?”

Jon spins and stares at him. “What was that?” he says, sprawled and shaky.

Tim stares back. “Wait. You heard that?”

Jon is shaking. “I… I heard…”

And of course, Hastur comes in with the massive ridiculous drama. Greetings, little unintentional eye priest. My man Tim likes you, so I will spare you when I come into my own.

Jon’s eyes roll back in his head and he passes the fuck out.

“Smooth,” Tim mutters at Hastur, trying and failing to wake Jon. He isn’t entirely sure what to do. It’s easy enough to carry Jon upstairs (and Jon never picked a bedroom, so Tim does that for him), but anything more seems like a personal violation. He goes so far as to lay Jon on the bed and remove his shoes, but that’s it.

It was only the truth, Hastur says in his patented I did nothing wrong voice.

If they were just two guys trying to make this work, Tim would be inclined to spank him.

What the hell comes next? Obviously, confronting Elias is the thing to do here, but Tim does not feel his best at the moment. It seems a bad idea.

The scent of cooked ham wafts into the room, and Tim’s mouth waters.

Oh, says Hastur, rumbling. He’s making breakfast.

Well, at least that provides neutral ground. Tim tugs the sheet to Jon’s chin and heads downstairs, jaw set, ready for a fight.

Elias is not ready for a fight. Elias is ready for a feast. Though Tim could have sworn there was nothing cooking when he walked Jon up.

Elias is humming, bent in front of the oven. “Have a seat,” he says, chipper.

“Did you really keep him up all night?” says Tim, who feels like not fighting his anger too much right now.

“No,” says Elias. “I assure you, he did that all on his own.”

You’re so pleased about it, says Hastur, sounding suspicious.

“Of course I am,” says Elias, who has an answer for everything. “He’s an ideal student of the Eye.”

“Your pet accidental priest?” says Tim.

Elias laughs.

It is a terrible laugh. It is a fucking evil laugh, like something out of a movie. Tim shivers, staring “Fucking hell, boss,” he says more mildly than the situation requires.

“My apologies,” says Elias, wicked chuckle tapering off. “His phrasing caught me by surprise, your Lordship.”

Of course the apology is for Hastur. “You’re having too much fun. Pretty sure it's illegal.”

“Laws change,” Elias says mildly, and provides a proper, perfect fry-up: bangers and back bacon, eggs and mushrooms and beans, fried bread, and white pudding.

Tim’s stomach rumbles.

Elias fucking winks. “As if I'd leave you suffering from my excess of hospitality.”

“Can’t decide if you’re a fantastic if incredibly creepy host, or just taking the piss out of me,” says Tim.

“Neither,” says Elias, deadpan. “It’s all part of my mad plan to lure the Fears to my doorstep.” Again, he offers the plate.

“Because you’re that bad at self-preservation,” Tim quips and takes it.

“My ageâ€”as your magnificent guest has observedâ€”would say otherwise,” says Elias.

“Two hundred, he said?” Tim mutters, decides fuck it, and stuffs his face.

He can’t help a little moan. It’s perfect for a hangover: greasy and salty and good.

Hastur makes a similar sound, a couple octaves deeper.

Elias stares.

Tim swallows. Eyes him. “Yeah, I'm gonna need a minute.” He turns to have his way with the food.

Hastur continues making… sounds.

Tim logs them away for later and focuses on filling his stomach.

So food helps. Food helps a lot, and Tim swings around to begrudgingly grateful by the time Elias offers tea.

“Better?” says Elias, who knows the answer already.

“Very,” says Tim, who’s feeling a bit more generous.

“Good,” says Elias. “I’d like to talk to you about the letter you received from Jude Perry.”

The last day has been so insane that for a moment Tim has absolutely no idea what he’s talking about. “Eh?”

The fire-woman, says Hastur.

“Shit,” Tim announces.

“Indeed. She wants you to go to Sheffield, yes?”

Tim stares for a moment. “Okay, how do you know that?”

Elias looks briefly pitying. “I can see almost anything I wish to see, which is why your adventure with Gertrude the other day remains tantalizing.”

Tim tries to deflect. “And I guess I’m worth peeping-Tomming though I haven’t done anything interesting beyond that?”

“Now, that isn’t true,” Elias soothes, and refills Tim’s tea. “The snow at the very least says otherwise.”

Tim sighs. “I know.”

“It was a good try, though,” says Elias, avuncular.

Tim gives him a look.

Elias smiles.

Dangerous, Tim reminds himself. “So what’s in Sheffield?”

“A cult,” says Elias. “Possibly a great challenge for you. They are those who worship destruction; who love the flame, who breathe fire and torment and screaming. Who, in fact, have given in to that which you—I think we can all agree, fortunately—still fight.”

“The Desolation.” Tim swallows, and cannot keep his voice steady.

His left hand—Hastur’s hand—rises and rests on his right.

It’sâ€¦ so damn comforting. Tim can’t even quite place why. It’s just Hastur, who’s trying to gaslight, gatekeep, and girlboss his way into whatever his goals are.

Still. It is, as Tim observed, the least alone he’s felt in years. Fuck it, he thinks, and turns his hand to grip Hastur’s.

“The Desolation,” Elias confirms. “I know you’re new to this, I do; yet I think you know what lies down that road.”

Tim looks away. “I feel it.”

“Yes,” says Elias, soft, but somehow more intense for all of that.

“It’s… it… it calls,” says Tim.

“Yes,” says Elias, even quieter, even more intense.

“Hastur thinks I’m doomed,” says Tim.

“So do I, fairly,” says Elias.

“Fuck you both,” says Tim. “I’m not.” Hastur’s hand tightens, and Tim finds himself blushing. “I’m not fucking doomed. I won’t do that.”

“It wants you very much,” says Elias. “The harder you resist, the harder it will pull you.”

“Well, fuck it, then,” says Tim.

“There is a way out,” says Elias.

Tim goes very, very still.

“A dangerous one,” says Elias, “with a hefty cost; but should you choose to pay it, you will not be devoured.”

What? says Hastur quietly. That’s not a thing.

“I assure you, it is,” says Elias. “It is possible to lose the attention of the Fears. Tim, I say this with full belief that you, lord Hastur, will obtain your very own body, becoming powerful and terrifying; I say this without any intention to raise your ire. As you have both noted, I like being alive, and I intend to keep doing it. Lying to you would not help me keep doing it.”

That much is true, cleric, says Hastur, and this rumble, this rumble is not friendly, this rumble is not calm, this rumble does not soothe or seduce the way half the sounds he make seem to do. This man belongs to me.

Tim rolls his eyes.

If your lies lead him to harm, you will wish your life was forfeit.

There is real fear in Elias’s expression, but it doesn’t seem to be a deterrent. “I know,” he whispers.

Tim’s instinct is almost never wrong. Something here is off. Elias’ fear is real; his determination to survive is real; his hope to avoid Hastur’s anger is real. But something isn’t. Something here is a lie, and Tim can’t see it. He sets his jaw.

Elias clears his throat. “My suggestion is you go to Sheffield.”

“To the crazy fire-worshiping cultists? Not that it doesn’t sound like the best time ever, but are you out of your mind?” says Tim.

“No,” says Elias.

“You go to Sheffield, then,” Tim says.

Why would you want him to? says Hastur suspiciously.

“Because they expect it. Because if you fight too hard or too obviously, they will look harderâ€”and right now, Tim, I can completely guarantee that they do not know about your passenger. They only see the expected: a young man in the grip of anger, bereft of family or other human connections, already infested with such glorious rage. That is all. We do not want them to see more.”

“Wait,” says Tim. “If I go, I'm delivering him. I'm fucking putting him in danger!”

“Not necessarily,” Elias starts, but Tim overrides him.

“I am not putting him in danger,” Tim snarls, snarls, doesn’t recognize his own voice, and doesn’t realize there is smoke rising from around him (the air, his seat, the floor) until Hastur raises that left hand and gently cups his face.

Tim goes still.

“Amazing,” Elias whispers, eyes so wide that his sharp blue-gray irises completely show.

Not who I want to be. Tim takes a moment. Shuts his eyes. Breathes.

That’s it, says Hastur, smooth and low and sensuous. Breathe… five… four… three…

“Fucking dom,” Tim murmurs, and hopes he didn’t actually say that out loud, and obeys. It works. He relaxes. (The fire is still there still burning still unextinguished but he can’t do anything about that now.)

“Incredible,” says Elias, looking thrilled. “Tim, if anyone can do this, you can.”

“No,” says Tim. “There’s risks, and then there’s stupidity. No.”

Elias sees he means it. Elias (naturally) changes course as though he’d always meant to, all along. “Well, it’s for the best,” he says. “Jon would follow you, and I can’t imagine how poorly that would go. He’s not the most social of creatures.”

Tim gives him another look, this one edged with anger.

Elias shivers, but doesn’t close his eyes. “What will you do instead?”

“Those police,” says Tim. “I take it they’re still looking.”

“Ms. Tonner is,” says Elias. “The Hunt’s avatar. You will have to do more to get her off your tail.”

And suddenly, Tim realizes he has to change his mind. His mouth twists. “So… these people in Sheffield. This fire-cult. They’ve done bad things, yeah? They’ve gone out of their way to burn buildings and people. Yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” says Elias as if he were just propositioned.

Tim ignores that. “So tell you what. If you can guarantee me a way to focus her on them instead of meâ€¦ we’ll go.”

Tim that’s… I like that.

“Even though you might be in danger?” Tim says quietly.

I already am. This has the potential to turn one of the guns aimed at us in another direction.

Again, Tim dislikes the tone: again, it’s depressed, it’s accepting, it’s giving in. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I believe you’ll try.

Oh, fuck that. If fucking baby Merlin can't save this tiny, hidden piece of a god, then what's the point of any of it? “Well?” Tim says, turning all those feelings on Elias because he doesn’t know where else they can go.

Elias smiles. “Go see to Jon, won’t you? He’ll follow you if you don’t take him directly, and I think he’ll be safer if he’s under your care. Meanwhile, I have some phone calls to make. We can make this happen.”

Tim takes a slow exhale and nods. “Thanks for breakfast,” he says, and heads for the stairs.

#malevolent fic #tma fic #malevolent crossover #tma crossover #malevolent x tma #tma x malevolent #tim stoker #elias bouchard #jonathan sims #kiy malevolent

3 notes · View notes

taliaxwinters · 1 year

Text

Gun Park One-Shot

Hello, hello everyone! Welcome to my first post on Tumblr!

I've been admiring all the lovely fan art/writing for quite some time now, and decided it's time I join. It's been quite a long time since I've written any fanfiction, let alone posted it. Please be kind with your criticism.

My current obsession is Gun Park from Lookism, so please enjoy!

I purposely didn't give the main character a description, so you can just imagine yourself in her place.

Luna has had a long, miserable week. Work has been crazy and home has been lonely without Gun. But he surprises her by returning home early and making up for the nights he’s been away.

18+, NSFW, smut. You have been warned. ;)

Today was not Luna’s day.

Well, to be precise, it hadn’t been her week.

After her boyfriend had left town for business, work had become inexplicably busy with impending deadlines, and late nights and early mornings had become the new norm.

Luna sighed, leaning back in her office chair, and peeking into the cubicles around her. Only a few of her co-workers remained, the others having finished their work hours ago.

The woman in the cubical to her right closed her laptop and began to stretch. “Thank goodness, that’s all over! I thought we might need to move into the office at this rate.” She let out a laugh. “My husband has been complaining about me not being home to cook his dinner.”

Luna smiled wearily, hitting send to submit her final report. “He’s a grown man, Hana. Tell him to cook his own food.”

“I’ve spoiled him too much.” She muttered. “Besides, he’s useless in the kitchen. The man could burn water if he really tried.” Hana dumped her phone and wallet into the black purse she pulled from under her desk. “Make sure you go home too, dear. Don’t stay any later than you must.”

“I won’t.”

With a wave, Hana walked away, heading for the exit. Luna didn’t blame Hana one bit for making a run for it after completing her work. It had been a terribly long week.

Mirroring her co-worker, Luna closed her laptop and gathered her belongings in the shoulder bag she carried before heading to the lobby. The building was so quiet, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle of a typical workday.

‘Do I go back home now, or should I go to the gym first? Maybe some exercise will take my mind off things.’

It was day five of her boyfriend being gone, and his presence had been sorely missed. Going to bed and waking up alone, coming home and eating dinner in silence…it was beginning to drive Luna mad. Anything would be better than going back to an empty home.

‘The gym it is.’

She stepped through the lobby entrance onto the sidewalk, heels clacking on the pavement. Raising her right hand, she went to flag down a taxi when she noticed a familiar black sedan parked a bit further up the sidewalk. The make and model was the same as one of the cars parked in the garage at home, and the license plate upon further inspection….

‘No way.’

The driver’s side door opened, and the very man she’d been longing to see stepped out. Dressed to impress, he wore a white suit with black dress shoes and a black button-up shirt underneath. His black hair was slicked back in its usual style, and the thick rimmed glasses he wore were perched on the bridge of his nose, hiding a lengthy scar that went across his nose and under his left eye.

Taking one last drag of his cigarette, he flicked it to the ground and walked toward Luna.

“Gun.” She whispered. “I-I thought you wouldn’t be here for a couple more days?”

Gun stopped merely inches from Luna and reached out to caress her cheek. She leaned into his hand, sighing happily at feeling his warmth.

A smirk spread across his lips. “You said you missed me every time I called. How could I not hurry back when my woman wanted me so badly?”

Luna tipped her gaze upwards, cheeks slightly flushed. “I didn’t mean to rush you. I know you do a lot for the Yamazaki family…”

“Business is done.” Gun stated. “There wasn’t any reason for me to stay longer than necessary.” Removing his hand from Luna’s cheek, Gun stepped over to the front passenger door and opened it. “Would you like to go home?”

The look in his eyes was mischievous, but she didn’t care. The word ‘home’ from his lips is all it took. “Yes.”

She hurriedly slid into the car and buckled as Gun came around and did the same. Their home was a good 15 to 20 minute ride from her work, but Luna had the feeling the ride would be over in the blink of an eye. As Gun pulled into traffic, he slid his right hand onto her thigh, fingers trailing down until they found the hem of her dress.

Her breath hitched as she felt his rough hands slowly slide the fabric upwards. Pushing back into the seat to keep composure, Luna glanced to her left. Gun’s smirk was still there as he kept his gaze ahead on the road.

Feeling his fingers massage her flesh, Luna was annoyed that she seemed to be the only one who was feeling flustered. Placing a hand on his, she gently pulled it further up her thigh, guiding it towards a more sensitive area.

That got the reaction she wanted. Gun’s pupils dilated, the mischievous look quickly turning to one of lust. His fingertips brushed against her core and Luna let out a soft moan.

“You’re teasing me.” His voice rumbled.

“You started it.”

Gun grunted. “I’ll finish it too.”

Luna turned to face him directly, copying the smirk that annoyed her so much. “I’m counting on it.”

She felt the car speed up.

In what felt like seconds, they arrived at home. Gun pulled the car back into the garage to park, and Luna quickly grabbed her bag and headed inside before Gun could interfere.

Too bad he was faster.

In the blink of an eye Luna felt herself being lifted as her bag fell to the ground. Gun had picked her up before she even made it into the house. Pushing her up against the side of the car, his lips crashed roughly on to hers. Luna wound her arms around his neck in defeat, knowing now that she’d been caught, there was no way to escape.

“You tried to run away?” He breathed in between heated kisses. “After what you said in the car?”

“Not run,” Luna panted, pushing her hands against his chest to break for air. “I just wanted to make it into the house before you attacked.” Their eyes locked, and as soon as Luna saw the intense desire on his face, she knew it was going to be a long night.

“That didn’t work.” Gun placed her down gently.

Luna scoffed. “No shit.”

Gun brought a hand under her chin and tilted it upwards, leaning in so their noses were touching. “Wait for me in the bedroom. I’ll bring the bags inside.”

Luna nodded, heading for the door once again. The garage entrance opened to a small entryway where she left her shoes before walking through the house. Not bothering to turn on any of the lights, Luna went straight to their bedroom as instructed. Knowing Gun might be a couple of minutes while he got his suitcase and her purse, she decided to freshen up a bit in the attached bathroom.

Luna took out her ponytail and removed the clips holding her hair in place before running her fingers through her hair to make it look decent. After a few minutes of playing with it, she was satisfied with how it looked.

‘Should I strip down to my underwear, or maybe change into some lingerie that Gun bought?’

Deciding on the lingerie, Luna stepped out of the bathroom to search her dresser, only to see Gun leaning in the bedroom doorway, his jacket and shirt missing, and a glass of alcohol in hand. He watched as Luna froze on the spot.

The room was quiet for a moment until he spoke. “Strip.”

“Wha-“ Luna started, confused.

Gun walked over to the bed and sat up against the pillows, making himself comfortable. He took a sip of his drink, eyes never leaving the woman in front of him. “Strip for me.” His voice was demanding and dripping with desire.

All thoughts ceased to function as Luna tried to figure out how to proceed. Normally, they couldn’t take their hands off each other, and things just happened. This time, it seemed like Gun had something specific in mind.

Taking a deep breath, Luna started with the cardigan she was wearing, slowly undoing the buttons before dropping it to the floor beside her. Next, she grasped the bottom edges of her dress and shimmied it up her figure, being sure to take her time revealing each curve of her body. As the dress joined the cardigan on the floor, she looked back to Gun. His gaze hadn’t moved, but she could see the visible effort he was putting into keeping his composure.

Feeling a little more confident, Luna reached behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra, making sure to keep eye contact with Gun as she did. The shoulder straps slid down her arms as the bra came off and fell to the floor. For the grand finale, she placed her hands on her stomach and slowly slid them down her stomach before reaching for her underwear. Hooking a finder under each side, she slid them down until they too joined the clothing pile.

Gun’s composure cracked a little as his grip on the glass tightened. Tossing his head back, he downed the last of his drink and set the cup down on one of the night tables next to the bed before sliding himself to the end of the bed. Feet on the floor and legs spread, he motioned with one finger for Luna. “Come here.”

She obeyed silently, stepping up to Gun. He reached out with both hands and placed them on either side of her face, pulling her in for a deep kiss tasting of bourbon. After a moment, he slid his hands down to her shoulders and began to push her downwards. Their kiss broke as Luna was brought to her knees. He kept his gaze on Luna, not wanting to miss a moment. “Pleasure me.”

Luna looked to the large bulge in his pants and gently touched it, running her fingers upwards to undo the zipper. She heard is breath hold in anticipation, and couldn’t help but draw out the moment. It had been five long days, and Luna knew very well he was in need of a release, just like she was.

After pulling down the zipper, his cock sprang free, having swelled too much for such tight confines. His member was huge, her fingers barely touching as she wrapped them around the base and began moving them up and down. Not satisfied with his unchanging reaction, Luna leaned forward and placed a light kiss on the tip, licking the drop of pre-cum that had beaded on top. That elicited a guttural groan from Gun. He began to run his fingers through her hair and pulled it away from her face. “Stop teasing me, or you’ll regret it.”

A moan escaped his lips as Luna took his throbbing cock into her mouth. Knowing he was way too big to take all of it, she slowly bobbed her head and sucked on the tip while pumping her fingers over the rest. Gun’s composure was slipping as the sound of heavy breathing reached her ears, making Luna hum in victory.

Her movements and teasing were quickly sending Gun over the edge. In an attempt to regain control, he grabbed ahold of Luna’s hair and pulled her back up for a kiss. After a couple minutes of sloppy, lust filled kissing, he grabbed ahold of her ass and picked her up off the floor, only to toss her onto the bed. Gun practically ripped off his remaining clothing before crawling up to the woman sprawled out before him.

Kneeling in between her legs, he spread them wider to get a better view. Gun reached up and grabbed Luna’s wrists, pulling them to hook under her knees. He leaned forward and traced his lips across her collar bone, making his way up to her neck. “Keep your legs spread for me. This is your punishment for teasing.” Leaving a trail of kisses and bite marks, Gun made his way back down before pausing above her wet core. Luna could feel his smirk. “You’re already soaking, and I’ve barely touched you.”

Without pause, Gun ran his tongue up her folds roughly. Luna’s back arched and she moaned loudly at the contact, after days of feeling deprived. This man’s touches were like a drug, and she needed it bad.

Gun continued to tease her clit with his tongue, just enough to feel good, but stopping any time he felt she was too close to an orgasm. Luna began to get desperate, and she let go of her legs to touch Gun’s face. “P-please- ah! Let me c-come!” Her chest was heaving, cheeks red as her body felt on fire.

Gun growled against her core, prying her hands from his face. He shoved them back against her legs and made eye contact. “Only if you do as I asked.”

Luna quickly grabbed ahold of her legs again, pulling them towards her body and spread apart. She could feel Gun’s approval as he went back to teasing her clit. “Good girl.”

Running his hands over the inside of her thighs, Gun brought one down to her core and began rubbing his thumb over her slick entrance. He quickly insert two fingers and thrust them into her heat until her legs began to tremble. He knew he found the sweet spot as soon as Luna let out a cry of pleasure, so Gun focused on hitting that spot while licking her clit until he felt her walls tighten around his fingers.

Luna writhed beneath Gun’s touch, unable to keep quiet as he knew where she was most sensitive. It wasn’t long before she felt that tension build up in her abdomen, begging to be released.

“N-uh, Gun, I c-can’t hold on much longer.” She begged. “Please.” His touches increased in intensity, as he felt Luna reaching her limit.

“Cum for me.”

With a loud cry, the tension in her abdomen let loose, and a tidal wave of pleasure washed over her. Luna let go of her legs and covered her face with her arms, panting for air. She felt Gun remove his fingers from her spasming core, and his lips trailed hot kisses up her body. He stopped to leave a couple of bite marks on her breasts before pulling back to survey his work. Satisfied, Gun moved Luna’s arms so he could get a good look at her.

Tears streaming down her face, Luna pouted. “You’re not fair.” She said in between pants.

Gun leaned in and nibbled on her ear, earning a soft moan. “I warned you I would finish things.”

Without warning, Gun thrust his cock into her, the soft moan turning into a deep cry of pleasure. Luna wrapped her arms around Gun’s neck as he began to trust uncontrollably, not even pausing for her to adjust to his massive size. The pain of the sudden stretch blended with the sweetness of pleasure, and Luna quickly found herself on the brink of another orgasm.

Gun adjusted his position, sliding his arms beneath her legs and tossing them over his shoulders. He leaned forward and latched on to one of her nipples, sucking roughly while he brought a hand up to massage the other breast. He swapped sides, wanting to give each equal attention before moving up to lock lips with Luna. Their kisses were filled with need and desire. Luna bit his lip, before giving in to the throes of pleasure as a second orgasm came crashing. She yelled Gun’s name, raking her fingers down his back and leaving red marks.

“Fill me.” She begged. “Please.”

Those words broke what little sanity Gun had left. He bucked his hips a few more times before grinding against Luna, releasing his load. Gun panted heavily, resting his forehead against her shoulder as he caught his breath.

When they were both trembling less, Luna pushed Gun’s face back up and gently placed kisses all over before coming back to his lips. He reciprocated, softly moving his lips against hers. They stopped to breathe, resting their foreheads against one another.

Luna gave a trembling laugh, still somewhat out of breath. “I love you, Gun.”

“I love you.” Gun smiled, placing another warm kiss on her lips.

“Do I get cuddles now?” She asked innocently.

Gun leaned back, a big smirk back on his face. His cock was back standing at attention, ready for another round.

“Who said I was done with you yet?” He teased. “We’re just getting started. Get on your knees.”

That’s when Luna realized she had maybe teased him a little too much.

Gun planned to finish things all. Night. Long.

#gun park #lookism gun #lookism #park jonggun #lookism jonggun #park jong gun #lookism webtoon

12 notes · View notes

xwinterdreams-blog · 2 years

Text

Keep Me Company

Team Fuck fill for @stevetonygames square "Touch-Starved"

Looking to have a word with Stark, Timely’s resident inventor/blacksmith/drunk, Sheriff Rogers strode into the local saloon, expecting to find him there drowning himself in a bottle of whiskey or two—as he was most every night—but alas, no Stark.

He walked over to the bar, and he’d hardly placed his fist atop the counter when the barman spoke, “You just missed ‘im.”

Steve frowned. “Excuse me?”

“Stark. He ambled outta here ‘bout fifteen minutes ago.”

His frown deepened. He wondered what it said about him that the barman knew who he was looking for before he even had the chance to ask. They weren’t that close.

Steve wouldn’t even say they were friends. They argued as often as not, over differing world views and differing opinions on how much drinking, and at what time of day, constituted reasonable.

Steve thought Stark was cynical and lackadaisical. Stark probably thought he was a naive simpleton.

But there was something about Stark that drew Steve in. An inexplicable pull to stand next to Stark at the bar, so that they could engage in their usual repartee. The man had a sharp tongue and a devastating wit even while three sheets to the wind.

Shaking off his musings, Steve nodded at the barman before he left the saloon. What now? Back to his cold, lonely bed for the night?

Maybe he’d stop by Stark's place before he went home. Just to… check in. Talking to him was a part of his daily routine, that was all. Steve liked his routines.

——————

“Stark?” He called out, pushing open the door.

Silence.

He should just go home.

Steve walked inside. He made his way through the shop into Stark’s workshop, figuring he’d find him in there if he was still awake. Stepping inside he discovered that Stark was there, but he wasn’t awake.

Stark was sprawled on the wooden floorboards, a bottle of whiskey inches away from his hand, the remnants of which were spilling out onto the floor.

Steve sighed. He should probably just leave him to it, but when Stark groaned, Steve couldn’t do it. He walked over to him and crouched down near his head. “Why do ya do this to yerself, Stark?”

He reached one hand under his neck and the other under his back, lifting, pulling, dragging Stark into standing.

Stark groaned and mumbled, leaning heavily against Steve but otherwise not rising to consciousness. Steve pulled him over to the cot bed in the corner. He dropped him down as carefully as he could, but he still thumped down a little. It didn’t seem to bother Stark much.

Kneeling down at Stark’s side, Steve brushed his wayward black locks out of his eyes. What was it about this man? He pulled his hand away and Tony whimpered, moving his head, searching for Steve’s hand.

Steve placed his hand back on Tony’s head, sifting his fingers through the soft strands of his hair.

“Mmm, thaas nice…” Tony slurred before falling back to sleep.

Steve couldn’t stop his smile, he also couldn’t pull himself away and leave like he really should. He liked this. Comforting Tony. Seeing this uninhibited side of him devoid of his usual carefree mask. He looked softer than Steve had ever seen him before.

“No! No! Stop! That’s not what they were for! I never wanted… No!” Tony’s placid features scrunched up in dismay.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve shook Tony’s arm, trying to wake him out of whatever bad dream he was having. “Stark!”

“Huh? Wha? Steve?”

“Hey there.”

“What are you doing here?” He looked around at his position on the cot, dislodging Steve’s hand which Tony eyed curiously, before settling back on Steve. “You helped me into bed and stroked my hair… thought that was a dream, too.”

“Ah… no.” Steve mumbled, feeling a bit awkward. “I just came to…” see you? He shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“My hero.”

Steve rolled his eyes, looking anywhere but at Stark’s teasing eyes. “I guess I better—”

“Stay.” Stark’s hand landed on Steve’s arm before he could move, and he felt it like a brand on his skin, even through his shirtsleeve. How long had it been since he’d felt the intimate touch of another on his skin?

Too long. Timely was a lonely town for a man who enjoyed a very specific kind of company. The male kind.

His gaze shot to Tony, and the look in his eyes was no longer teasing. They were alight with such fervency, Steve could not suppress his gasp. Oftentimes Tony’s eyes were glazed, apathetic, annoyed. Never this heated. This urgent.

“Keep me company for the night, Sheriff. Keep the bad dreams at bay,” Tony said it with a hint of amusement, but Steve sensed the sentiment was real. Tony was hurting, from what he didn’t know. But the Civil War had been horrendous, everyone had memories they wished they could suppress, Steve certainly did. No doubt Tony did as well.

He didn’t use guns anymore, that probably had something to do with it. But Steve had never heard the story before. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked carefully.

Tony shook his head. “I don’t want to talk. Not tonight, anyway. I want the same thing as you. The thing we’ve both been wanting, building up to, for months. Don’t deny it.”

Steve couldn’t. Something had been happening lately. Underneath the barbed conversations, something had been growing. Desire. Need. Affection.

Steve climbed up from his knees and Tony pulled him down on top of him before he even had a chance to move. He tumbled down onto him and Tony made an oof sound as Steve knocked the air out of him, but then he was grinning, and then they were kissing.

Tony fumbled between their bodies to undo the buttons on Steve’s waistcoat while Steve attacked Tony’s. They made quick—if slightly awkward—work of removing each other’s waistcoats, shirts, loose ties and Tony’s jacket. Then their chests were completely bare, and Steve took his time tracing every inch of Tony’s firm chest, compact muscles, and dark trail of hair leading down into his slacks.

“You are—oof—” Steve spluttered in shock at Tony who had grabbed him round the waist and flipped him over onto his back, taking him completely by surprise.

“You were saying?” Tony hovered above Steve, hands pressed to the bed on either side of Steve’s head, grinning ear to ear with satisfaction.

Steve stared at him slack-jawed for a moment before he managed to gather his composure. “I’m surprised you could even make that move, Stark. Given the state I found you in.”

“I’m a very functional drunk, my liver’s used to it by now. My mind is perfectly clear.” Tony lowered his body, purposefully pressing every inch against Steve. “I think we’ve graduated to a first name basis by now, wouldn’t you say?”

He had a point, Steve had been thinking of him as Tony more and more, addressing him as Stark was just habitual at this point. “I suppose I could call you Tony.”

“Mm,” Tony grunted, thrusting his hips against Steve, his hard flesh confined by his pants pressing up against Steve’s own. “I like that. You sayin’ my name. As many fantasies as I have about callin’ you Sheriff, I like to be on a first name basis with the man I’m about to fuck.”

That brought Steve up short. “Who says you’re doing the fucking?”

“Why, do you want inside me, Sheriff?” Tony leaned down to nibble on Steve’s ear, and he squirmed. “Or is it just pride?”

“Just mighty presumptuous of you, that’s all.” Steve grumbled.

“Aha.” Tony chuckled against Steve’s skin. He started pressing kisses along Steve’s cheekbone, lifting his face to meet Steve’s gaze. “Would you be ever so kind, good sir, as to allow me the honour of gaining entrance to thine aperture?”

Steve tried not to laugh. He really, really did. The man was ridiculous. Utterly. But his lips twitched, a smirk broke out, and then a full-bellied laugh burst out of him. He shook his head in exasperated amusement. Tony looked pleasantly surprised at Steve’s good humour.

“Very polite of you, I accept.”

Tony leaned forward to kiss Steve but he pressed his fingers against his lips, stopping him in his tracks.

“And would you extend the same courtesy, some other time?”

“Think there’ll be another time, do you?”

“I don’t see why not. My bed is cold and empty every night, wouldn’t say no to the pleasure of your company.”

“Mmm, nor would I.” Tony leaned down again and this time Steve let him, meeting him for a deep and passionate kiss. “I have a fantasy about a certain Sheriff bending me over his Sheriff desk, if that interests you at all.”

“That would be… highly inappropriate.”

Tony simply stared at Steve. Waiting.

“Maybe.” He scowled, but he couldn’t deny the flush of arousal he felt at that scenario. “But I want you in my bed first,” he said stubbornly.

“Don’t you know, Steven? You can have me any time, any place.” With that sly remark, Tony climbed off the bed pulling off his shoes and shucking off his pants before wandering away.

Steve’s eyes tracked his bare ass and legs for a moment, before he pulled off his own trousers.

When Tony came back he had a bottle of liquid in his hand. “Oil.” He said, shaking it with a suggestive grin on his face.

Steve spread his legs and lifted his arms above his head. “I’m at your mercy.”

“Well, well, well. How about that.” Tony clambered onto the bed, and Steve sunk into the pleasure of his touch. It had been such a long time since he’d been touched this way, and never with such gentle care, nor had it ever made him feel so responsive.

But every calloused-roughened touch of Tony’s hands lit Steve on fire. He was nothing but moans and encouragements for more, more, more until Tony was sliding into him and he could finally breathe.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Tony asked, waiting for Steve’s nod before he started a steady pace of deep thrusts.

Steve wrapped his legs around Tony, sunk his fingers into Tony’s hair, and held on for the ride as his movements grew faster, and pleasure built into an inferno.

“Fuck you feel… wonderful.” Tony panted against his neck.

“Right back at ya, fella.”

“Is that what I am now, huh? Your fella?”

“If you want.” Steve huffed out, because Tony kept hitting that spot that made him see stars. The feelings only doubled when Tony started sucking on Steve’s neck. He bucked. Groaned. Cried out as he experienced an explosive climax.

He only vaguely registered Tony groaning in his ear and coming moments later. Tony pulled out and collapsed beside Steve, entwining their bodies together.

Maybe because there wasn’t much room, or perhaps he just wanted to be close to him after such a visceral experience. Steve didn’t mind either way.

He’d felt touch-starved for such a long time—always walking the solo path—that he thought he could very much get used to having someone in his space. To having Tony in his space. He pressed a kiss to the side of Tony’s head and drifted off to sleep.

#1872 #marvel comics #western #stevetony #stony #comfort #smut #steve looking after tony #bad dream #fic #myfics #sheriff steve rogers #tony stark

21 notes · View notes

nicklloydnow · 1 year

Text

“Every so often a film comes along with the capacity to break a friendship in half. Those of us who saw Prometheus in 2012 may understand what I mean. The exploding head, the inexplicable pale giant, the unresolved mysteries of humanity’s origins—it all left me enraged. Where is the Xenomorph?! Listening to a friend outside the theater insist that Prometheus is an excellent film, that it’s an intelligent film, one that I might just not necessarily understand, well, it drove me up a wall. And it made me want to blast my phone, and our friendship, into the vacuum of space. I thought he was full of shit.

(…)

For over a decade now, people have complained that Prometheus doesn’t make sense, that Scott never tells us why our creators despise us, and that, because this goes apparently unresolved, the movie just doesn’t have a cohesive message. They say it can’t live up to such bulletproof classics as the first three Alien films, since those combine satisfying horror action with very simple motivations–in those films, the Aliens are among us, and we have to kill them before they kill us. That’s it.

Although it’s a pretty lousy way to enjoy the vast and colorful world of film—always requiring directors to answer all the questions they ask—if you are looking for conclusions, they’re all there in Prometheus. You might just not have given the film enough of a chance to notice them. The humans in Prometheus, except for perhaps Dr. Shaw, are prideful creatures of ignorance, vanity, and, of course, bottomless greed. One of the central criticisms of Prometheus is that the scientists aboard the Prometheus are too dumb to be believable, that they operate with such arrogance that it’s almost impossible to sympathize with them. But have you ever considered that Scott might have characterized them that way for a reason?

(…)

You don’t need to look far beyond the borders of Prometheus to see why, after more than 30 years since Scott made the relatively optimistic Alien (hey, at least Ripley survives with the cat), the director may have become a bit more nihilistic about humans. The way in which we’ve torn this planet to shreds, how we’ve turned the natural world into our own personal toilet, how tax-skipping billionaires rocket off into space instead of trying to solve real, dire issues such as poverty or world hunger. The misery, the violence, the subjugation constantly frothing around the corners of our every waking day–hey, maybe he’s trying to tell us something here?

(…)

Since Scott will likely never get a chance to tie off the prequel trilogy he all-but-promised us, this film, with all its philosophy and promises of grandeur, will never feel fully satisfying. It'll always appear a bit smaller than it needs to be. But remember, as David says, "Big things have small beginnings."”

“10 years ago, Prometheus hit theaters and people freaked out. If you’re looking for a movie scarier than Alien, Prometheus fails. It’s got some terrifying moments, but none that top the messy originality of its source material. If you’re looking for a movie with a more cohesive aesthetic, Prometheus again fails to top Alien. It merely borrows from its predecessor’s basic design, resulting in technology that looks way slicker even though the movie is a prequel.

But Alien is a horror movie that happens to be set in space. You could move the action to a drilling station or a submarine. You could even swap the chest-bursting xenomorph for a demon or a genetic experiment gone haywire. It wouldn’t be the same movie, but it would have the same spirit.

Even King Kong has ties to Alien insofar as the idea of capturing and then using a beast is a trope that exists across different genres. The basic story of Alien — while an aesthetic triumph of minimalism — is not reliant on science fiction to actually work.

Once you hold this very specific criterion in your brain, it’s easy to see why Prometheus is a more interesting science fiction story than its more famous horror progenitor. The premise of the film concerns the notion of panspermia, the theory that human beings were seeded on Earth by aliens. And, although Prometheus presents this theory to be essentially true, the unfolding implications impact all the characters in profound ways.

(…)

In Alien, none of these questions exist. It’s only about survival. In Prometheus, the art of speculative fiction, the idea that the audience and the characters are actually contemplating big ideas through a sci-fi lens, doesn’t just drive the story, it is the story. You can’t take the science fiction out of Prometheus and make it work. That may not excuse its flaws, but for people who truly love the genre, it should encourage you to cut the movie a break.

Ridley Scott made an Alien prequel that no one wanted about huge philosophical subjects that are hard to discuss. He crammed all of that into an action-horror that used a similar plot structure to a more famous film he already directed. For most moviegoers, this audacious experiment failed. In fact, the more by-the-numbers approach in the troubled sequel, Alien: Covenant, proves how much Scott retreated from some of his bigger ideas in Prometheus.

But none of that changes this film’s thoughtfulness. In a sea of sci-fi movies trying to play the hits, Ridley Scott’s Prometheus tried to get weird. And for that, it remains one of the better sci-fi movies of the 21st century.”

“Alien is an excellent haunted house horror movie. Seriously, it’s great. Aliens is a constantly entertaining war movie. But Prometheus manages to combine spooks (that creepy first act), action (that flame-filled second act) while adding the element that makes it transcend for me – philosophy. Yep, Ridley Scott was brave enough to shove a philosophical exploration of the very nature of human existence into his summer blockbusting Alien movie sequel/prequel/reimaginequal. And for that he should be applauded.

When some people look to the sky, they see God. Others just see stars. That dichotomy is at the root of Prometheus ’ big question: If there’s no God, where did we come from? And it goes further: can God exist in a scientific world? Prometheus is Scott’s attempt to splice the wide-minded wonder of Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey with the DNA of the summer-movie template.

I’ll concede that it’s an experiment that didn’t work for everyone, but just because you didn’t get it doesn’t mean it’s not a good film. There’s so much to love in Prometheus , whether it’s the subtle theme of creators rejecting their creations, the jaw-slackingly beautiful visuals (as pretty as anything in Scott’s back catalogue), or the mindbending implications of that key conceit.”

#prometheus #alien #xenomorph #ridley scott #h r giger #iris scott

5 notes · View notes

yloiseconeillants · 2 years

Note

this isnt specifically what that suggest an npc thing was asking but im curious and it made me think of it so i wanna ask anyway: whats yloise's opinion on each of the scions?? which ones are her friends and which ones are just coworkers?? any prospective lovers?? (as of where youre up to in msq rn)

thank you so much for this ask, @kuroimarzipan! i wanted to wait to answer this one when i got home from my trip and now i am slime :/ Uh, just putting this one under a cut because I'm sure it's going to get long lmao. EDIT, on day three of writing this up OKAY THIS GOT REALLY LONG also spoilers up until where i’m at in the msq which is just finished Stormblood proper....

BESTIE ZONE

Y'shtola: Yloise met Y'sthola first, and it was Y'sthola's recommendation that led to Yloise joining up with the Scions in the first place. Yloise is a little intimidated by her, but in a good way? She wants to impress her and she wants to be friends - Y'shtola will insist that they ARE friends, particularly after the Titan quests. Yloise respects and trusts Y'sthola. I imagine they can both get a little catty if they're in the mood for it.

Thancred: Given my fucky timeline for multi-WOL shenanigans, I think Yloise met Thancred for all of maybe five minutes before he was possessed by Lahabrea (but she still thought something was off, given all the stories about him that Erasmus told her, when he was inexplicably absent for her nameday party), but after the whole Lahabrea Fisticuffs Incident where she fractures Thancred’s nose and breaks her wrist doing so, they trauma-bond hard enough that Yloise can consider him one of her closest friends among the Scions during the 7th Astral Era. Thancred’s been busy and distant post-HW, though...

Yda/Lyse: I have talked about their relationship extensively elsewhere but by means of update, I think Yloise is at peace with Lyse’s decisions (even if she was railroaded into them by the plot :/ and i disagree w/ them on a fundamental level but whatever) and ready to move on from her mess of feelings re: Lyse without resolution. It’s fine.

Dariustel (who is still a Scion, despite the game dropping him entirely after ARR it’s fine): Yloise and Dariustel have had a rocky friendship considering that the very first time they met, they were both immediately struck by an Echo vision of the most fucked up moment of Dariustel’s life (when Yloise’s evil dad forced him to torture a farmer to test his loyalty). He very nearly quit the Scions then and there, but Yloise essentially begged him to stay to 1. prove that Dariustel did not have to be defined by his past and that he would make a worthy Scion 2. so that she could seek out her father (who she’s never met) to resolve her own drama/end his reign of terror in the Twelveswood. I’ve written a Lot about this in the Googledoc but very little of it ends up here because I keep changing her father’s Whole Deal, but by the end of ARR, they are very good friends and a sort of trial run for Echo-intimate relationships (Ysayle).

Tajih: Yloise first met Tajih as an Assessor at Mealvaan’s Gate, but I would call them acquaintances (or friends of friends) until they meet up again at the Waking Sands, when Yloise appoints herself matchmaker between Tajih and Liavinne (they can manage all on their own, thanks, AND Yloise doesn’t care for Liavinne), but after the Massacre, Yloise realizes that Tajih needs a different kind of support than just romantic cheerleading and actively works to be a better friend to Tajih.

Erasmus: They’ve been tanking and healing for each other since Sastasha and it’s the sort of working relationship that requires a kind of preternatural ability to read each other (which is inevitably helped by the Echo, but also some people just get each other’s vibes through prolonged proximity). Erasmus is too fucking polite to call her on her deceitful bullshit when he sees it, but he will try to work with her through her own self-imposed barriers. He’s been presumed dead since the Banquet, though, and I need to figure out when I get him back into the Soap Opera plot proper.

COWORKERS

Urianger: While her (rotten) attitude toward Urianger softened quite a bit since the moment that Moenbryda arrived and Yloise can truthfully call him a friend after everything that went down with Minfilia, I still don't think they're close. Yloise has observed Urianger, and can recognize when he's overtaxing himself and (as unobtrusively as possible) leave him some tea and snacks, but she's not doing much more to get to know him.

Minfilia: To be certain, Yloise cares DEEPLY about Minfilia, and feels comfortable enough to share secrets with Minfilia she would otherwise take to her grave (the whole thing w/ Midgardsormr, for example), but there is a certain professional distance that Yloise is imposing on their relationship (out of habit? fear?).

Papalymo: I’m pretty certain Yloise just recognized Papalymo as Yda’s chaperone and like, went to the beach w/ them a few times but they’ve probably never spoken outside of like, making fun of Thancred together a few times.

Alphinaud: Alphinaud was firmly framed in Yloise’s brain as “My 16-year-old Coworker” for most of the game and fluctuated between “I guess I’m just going to go along with him leading a mercenary force now,” “This Child Needs To Get Out of My Personal Business With a Certain Knight in Coerthas,” and “Did he literally just refer to me as a dog?” but then, like, Heavensward happened, and now Alphinaud is Yloise’s Son Boy that she is Very Proud Of and she hangs up his art in her shitty apartment.

Alisaie: Alisaie is currently occupying the “My 16-year-old Coworker” position recently vacated by Alphinaud although Alisaie immediately hit her with the Ga Bu deep conversation which Yloise was not ready for by any means. They need to spend more time together before Yloise can call her a friend, but anything for Alphinaud’s sister, I guess.

Krile: Yloise knows that she Should Not Fuck with Krile (or any other 30+ furry academic, for that matter), but she seems pleasant enough and would probably have tea with her if the opportunity presented itself but, you know, MSQ.

Fred: My partner’s WOL, and the closest thing to a long-term rival that Yloise possesses (she does not have a competitive bone in her body, except, apparently, when this jackass deigns to speak). He is both the Monk who Stands in the AOE AND the Red Mage who will revive her when she is down. The first time they were ever nice to each other was after she was struck by a falling rock during the Titan Fight that should have hit him, and he felt awful and stayed by her side while she recovered at Warmwine Sanitorium (and got in some fishing in the meantime). I WAS playing with the idea when we first started playing that there was something romantic between these two but absolutely not. The very idea is repugnant to her (which makes Fred’s half-assed flirting even worse when it occurs). He now exists to deliver bad news and give her rides on his chocobo while they are both dealing with MSQ nonsense.

Tataru: Tataru is not just Yloise’s Coworker, but she may be Yloise’s Boss at this point. Yloise is wise enough to indulge her whims and support her endeavors.

NOTABLE OTHER DYNAMICS???

She admires the Company of Heroes tremendously and looks upon Riol as both a compatriot and somewhat of a mentor (Erasmus has an outright crush on him and she WILL make it awkward for him for a laugh) (she does have a crush on Landenel though).

As previously mentioned, she does not care for Liavinne, but it’s not like she wanted her to die or anything.

I have not written much about Zezesu since they keep changing in my plots, but the basic points are the same: Zezesu probably falls on the coworker side of the Scions, but as a member of Yloise’s early adventuring party, they have a stronger bond than say, Yloise and Tataru. Zezesu does die in the Waking Sands Massacre.

Most of the other Very Minor Scions are more friends of Erasmus than Yloise’s friends, but they’re all friendly-by-proxy. She’s always surprised when a Scion later assumes she doesn’t remember them, just because they didn’t interact much, but Yloise remembers every time anyone was nice to her ever, so of course she’d recall the times Erasmus would call Arenvald and A’aba or Una and her companions to share a table with them.

#i should have just. written a novel i guess #soap opera notes

15 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist-autoresponder · 2 years

Text

Floornight fic update (the previous update is here):

20:10 is over. It's a good thing, right?

20:12: He's in. He says he's going to sit up for a while, read some more of the transcripts from his dreams.

20:13: "I can't believe this."

"What?" says Lev.

"I don't think that there's ever been a single human being as screwed up as me, not even remotely. I'm totally fucked."

"You're not that screwed up," Lev says with uncharacteristic warmth. "You seem like a pretty decent guy."

"I'm a pretty decent guy," he says to his reflection. "I'm a pretty decent guy and I just slept for twenty hours."

20:14: Why would he ever think he was normal? What evidence could he have? Who among his friends or family hadn't thought of him as pretty screwed up?

20:15: I am going to say one thing that I think I shouldn't have, a thing that's been driving me up the wall for the last few minutes,

"I'm the most normal of all the people in this house."

He turns away and his eyes meet Lev's. The room is still.

"I hope that's true," he says.

20:20: What did he do to get so fucked up? He can't even figure out how to get out of bed. Why couldn't he just be happy to be in bed? He feels like he's in an absurd dream. He didn't think dreams could be like this. He feels like he's fallen into one of those The Exorcist horror stories where the main character does something inexplicable that he can't explain and everyone is terrified that something horrible and unexplainable is about to happen to them in this strange, strange hotel. Only, in this dream, there's nothing strange about his hotel, it's just a normal home.

20:21: It's been twenty minutes. It's been an hour. He's in. I feel like a robot now, he says to himself. I am a clockwork mechanism and all is well with the world. Maybe I don't want to leave this apartment, he thinks. Maybe I am happy here, in my little clockwork apartment. He doesn't like the way the door handles feel, but there isn't a door handle outside.

"What?" says Lev.

"I said I'm happy to be here," says James.

20:23: A door opens, then another door, and then there is a flurry of conversation that James can't understand.

"What are you saying?" James asks. "What's going on?"

"It's time for you to go," says a third voice.

20:24: What? No. He hasn't been to sleep yet. And he hasn't had a chance to talk to Lev yet. He's going to read a bit more of the transcripts from his dreams. He just needs twenty more minutes.

"Are you sure it's the right thing to do? Couldn't you sleep later?"

"No. Now is the right time."

"Well then, come back at like ten o'clock. That's when I'm usually up."

20:25: What? No.

"It's time," says the disembodied voice, "I have work in the morning."

"Work," repeats James. "So you want me to go now, in case I don't wake up?"

"That's right."

"That seems kind of unfair, given that –"

"That's the way it is."

20:27: Oh. He gets it. It's not his fault, that's how the system works.

"All right, I'll go then."

"Go where?"

"Home. To my own home."

20:28: All of a sudden, everything looks different. It's like the world is on fire. And he's on fire too, because he's leaving.

He's burning alive.

And this is hell, too. He's burning in hell.

"Are you sure?" he asks, because maybe he could be making this choice. He could be responsible. Maybe he could be in hell right now because it was his choice.

20:31: "Yeah, I'm sure."

20:32: No wonder he's so afraid, he thinks, no wonder he feels like such a fraud whenever he looks at himself in a mirror –

"You've got this place to yourself until your eighteenth birthday, remember that," says the voice.

20:34: Yeah, right, of course he remembers. He never forgets.

20:35: He's going to see his house every day, just as he has for the last three years of his life. He'll be there for Christmas. He'll be there on every anniversary, with food and gifts.

20:36: His parents would probably get a divorce if they could tear themselves away from their jobs for more than five seconds.

20:37: It's not like he's getting anything out of this. If anything, he's doing them a favor. There's a part of him that really wanted to wake up to the sound of fireworks this morning, but he didn't.

20:38: He's burning now. He's dying. He could stay in bed forever, he supposes. He wouldn't miss a single anniversary dinner. They can get someone else to come to his house on the fourth, he thinks. They can get someone else to take his place now that he's dead. It's his house, after all. It's all his house, isn't it?

20:39: Someone could walk right in this room, through the door, right now, and say, "I was expecting James, not him."

20:40: It would be so easy. If he died, he could go home.

20:40: What a horrible thought!

20:41: He could burn forever. It would be so nice.

20:42: He gets to be on fire now. He gets to burn. It's so nice. It would be so nice.

20:42: He's burning.

4 notes · View notes

maryhall · 8 months

Text

it feeds off your trauma

It began, surprisingly, in LA. Patient zero was wealthy, young, and famous, shocking the world.

And now I’m sick.

No. No. No.

I don’t feel sick. Not that sick.

But I know how it ends. It ends the same for everyone.

The TV replays nothing but the same message. Over and over and over. A rainbow screen. Screeching. White text surrounded by black: EMERGENCY BROADCAST SYSTEM. Black text beneath that: THIS IS NOT A TEST. Beneath that scrolls in a black bar: QUARANTINE ACTIVE UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS. DO NOT LET THE DARKNESS CONSUME YOU. REMAIN INDOORS. DO NOT LET OTHERS IN, NO MATTER HOW DESPERATE THEY MIGHT SEEM.

How am I supposed to think happy thoughts when the world’s falling apart?

And when my neighbor and her six-year-old come to my door, am I supposed to not let them in? The little girl cries. Every day, they come to my door. Her mother pounds on the wood, screaming, and her child cries.

“I know you’re in there! Let us in, goddammit! Help us!”

I do not.

I look at myself in the mirror. I look like shit. Ashen. I’m not pale- I can never be pale, like the mother and daughter outside. But I look ashen. My hair needs maintaining and my skin is greasy. My eyes are sunken. I need Grandmama twist my locs. I need a shower. I need sleep.

Sleep.

I can’t wait to sleep.

But I wake up in the morning, curled on the couch, my neck hurting like Hell. The scrolling text on the TV has changed. QUARANTINE ACTIVE UNTIL FUTHER NOTICE. THINK HAPPY THOUGHTS. DO NOT LET THE DARKNESS CONSUME YOU. IT FEEDS OFF YOUR TRAUMA.

What?

Groggily, I stare at the screen. I can’t comprehend what that means.

Who’s ‘it’? The virus? And what does the TV- the government- mean by ‘feeds’?

A knock at the door startles me. No, scares the crap out of me.

I creep to the motel’s entryway and, standing on my tiptoes, look through the peephole. I am short for ten.

But I do not see the mother and child as I expect. Instead, there stands a shadowy man. Immediately, I do not trust him. He has the wild look in his eyes the infected do. That’s, what, the third stage? Number three out of four.

“Hello,” The man says, just loud enough to be heard through the door. “I’m with the government. It’s safe to come out now.”

Like Hell.

“Come out now. It’s safe. Everyone is safe.”

I strain to see behind him, but his grinning face is in the way. Yellow teeth. Sharp canines. Wide eyes.

“Everyone is safe. Everyone is safe.”

A pause.

The man must determine that no one is home. He moves to the next door, where the process is repeated. I wait until he clip-clops down the metal stairs, then move away from the door.

I hope my neighbor is okay. She’s been living here for months, she said, with her little daughter. Anywhere her ex couldn’t find her.

Maybe I should have let them in.

End things faster.

Be a good Samaritan.

I think I’ve moved to stage two. Maybe. I don’t know if the voices are because of the virus or because of the loneliness. Inexplicably, they whisper in languages I don’t know but I do feel.

I understand what they want.

But now I don’t want to sleep. It’s scary. I don’t want to die. I don’t want stage four.

Where is my mom? My grandmama, who I want more than anything?

I know. But I do not want to know.

Is it worth it anymore?

I feel the pull of sleep.

I want my grandmama to twist my locs. I hate the upkeeping of dreadlocks.

They look awful. I try to shape them into pigtails, using the same motions Grandmama had, but I cannot make them perfect like she did. One pigtail is higher than the other.

Sobbing, I tear the ties from my hair. My hands aren’t the same as Grandmama’s. My hands aren’t warm. I have bad circulation, she said. No idea where I got that from.

When Mom and Dad were alive, they laughed at this. Robot hands, my dad said. We replaced her human hands with robot ones when she was a baby. That’s why she’s always tapping her fingers. Her hands are short-circuiting.

Later, Grandmama said I needed to stay in the motel at all cost. Even if I get hungry? Even if you get hungry. Even if you starve.

I wonder how she died. Where. She told Mom she wanted to die in her sleep once when they thought I wasn’t listening. If she got infected, her wish came true.

Grandmama keeps a knife under the pillow. I’m scared she’ll cut herself on it one night. She couldn’t have a gun, so a knife it was.

I take the knife.

I saw through my hair. Even in my frenzy, I am careful not to cut myself. Dreadlocks fall at my feet. Long, fuzzy worms.

It’s not worth it.

I look like a boy now. Exhaustion pulls at eyelids. Letting go feels good.

And the TV switches to a new message displayed on the rainbow background: FINAL BROADCAST. DO NOT GIVE UP HOPE. LISTEN TO MUSIC. REMEMBER GOOD MEMORIES. HUM. EXERCISE. WATCH A MOVIE. PET YOUR DOG. KEEP THE DARKNESS AWAY. GOD PROTECT YOU.

The darkness.

A few days before, the TV said that ‘it’, the virus, feeds off trauma. So I have to stop thinking. Or think happy thoughts.

But how can I think happy thoughts when Mom and Dad are dead? Now Grandmama, too. Everyone I have. Everyone I love.

The last memory I have of my parents was my dad hugging me and my mom kissing me on the head. Goodbye, they said, We’ll see you later. We love you, Abs.

I love you, Abby.

I know they did. And I know they wouldn’t want me to give up.

I’m scared of life and of death. But I know which path Mom, Dad, and Grandmama would want me to take. Which path I, deep down, want to take.

So I follow the TV’s advice. I don’t want to die. I fear what comes next. I don’t know if I believe in God anymore. Not since Mom and Dad died.

Mom, Dad, and Grandmama would not want me to die, either. They wanted me to live.

When I was a toddler, I had fallen. I didn't scrape my knee. I didn't cry. But Mom had. Grandmama had. And although Dad would never cry in front of me, I knew how worried he had been.

So I do not give up hope. I remember good memories. I hum. I exercise.

Even if I am sick, I will continue.

I love you, Abigail.

I love you, too.

I remember my grandmama’s warm hands. Us singing to her favorite song from long ago. My father’s bearhugs. How we played videogames together.

I remember Mom’s kiss, always planted softly on my forehead. She read to me every night before I slept. She told me I could do anything I wanted. Dad told me I could be anyone I wanted.

And those final words.

From my parents.

We love you, Abs.

From my grandmama.

I love you, Abigail.

I won’t give up.

#wip? maybe #story #horror story #healing #words #spooky #halloweencore #halloween #happy halloween #spooky season #spooky month #scary story #scary #horror #apocalypse #apocoylptic #short story

1 note · View note

sludgefriend · 2 years

Text

I went out to my back porch to smoke after a day that was longer, harder, and more full of emotion than I had expected it to be. I was shown, three times today, three different personal, private truths that I’ve held within myself reflected back at me. Usually, it takes time for me to find things that sync up with my brain just right. But, today. Today I was shown three different things that spoke to me words that I’d never previously said out loud.

In the same time, I was confronted by some rash decisions that I’d made under duress. Embarrassed, angry, frightened. What might I lose to these moments of weakness? What wounds have I struck open? Or, will it really matter at all? I don’t know. My instincts tell me to run. I won’t. Not yet, anyways.

I saw a worm inching its way across the pavement. I thought to help it.

These pieces of media did something that I’d always hoped others might. They saw me. They really saw me. My ugliness, my beauty, my… me. I shed tears at each one. How? Why now? Why all at once? Why on a stupid fucking screen?

It was a mistake I made in anger. Was I wrong? Sure. But, to be sexually harassed and belittled by someone for so long, is it that wrong to want to burn them a bit? Have I shown too much of myself here?

I sat on the stool and continued to smoke. Why was the worm on the pavement? It wasn’t raining. It seemed to be going in a direction, but away from the lawn. Should I move it?

I feel naked. I wonder if I’ve been wrong. I wonder what parts of myself I’ve abandoned in my pursuit. Is it really so wrong? I’m like this for a reason, right? If these things exist, shouldn’t it mean that other people feel like this, too? Where are they? How can I find them? I feel truly lonely for the first time in months.

Will this alienate me? What if I explain myself? Can I explain myself? Will i get the opportunity? Maybe it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. They’d understand, right?

I watch the worm more closely. Gnossienne No. 2 plays for the fourth time in a row. I notice that an isopod is stuck to its back, likely chewing on it while another trails in its wake. I should probably help it, right? But, what do I know of the worm’s plight? What right do I have to deny the isopods a meal? What right do I have to intervene?

Love will eventually make up for the suffering, right? I just have to get better. Better strategies, a better understanding of people, a better understanding of the world. Then, I can do it. I can be perfect, i can get the things I want. I can live the life that I’ve so dearly wanted. I can be heard, i can be seen, I can be understood. I can plan. I have to plan. I have to know what to do when the time is right. I have to know how to make the time be right.

I continue to watch the worm, feeling some sort of guilt. It continues on, now with both isopods dug firmly into its sides. It slides across the pavement, and towards the house.

But I saw a contradiction. The meticulous planning that usually only goes on in my head played out in some sort of “real life”. I watched someone live my dreams according to a plan. But, they lamented that such a plan left the occasion without feeling. I resent this but accept its truth. I doubt I’ll sleep well tonight.

The worm crawled into a crack that I hadn’t seen previously, presumably into some dirt. Perhaps I was right to have not done anything after all. As it slithers away, I’m filled with an inexplicable and overwhelming feeling of sadness that I can’t quite put my finger on.

#speak

1 note · View note

aerynwrites · 2 years

Text

Shadows

Silco x Fem!Reader

A/N: another little silco one shot! I hope you all enjoy and just a reminder Requests are OPEN for SILCO and VIKTOR!! please send them in if you’d like to see more of them!

Request: Silco always keeps himself tightly restrained. In the few interactions you've had with him he is controlled, poised, always like a snake ready to strike. You're pretty sure he can hear your heart beating out of your chest any time he is near. He scares you. You cling to the edges at the Last Drop, just serving drinks part time to make extra coin. You have to send money home to help your family so with multiple jobs you are able to stay on the periphery. But it's like he's watching you and you're scared. You're not stealing from the Drop or selling information so why do you feel like a mouse about to be devoured here? Silco is cold but seeks you out to toy with you, to ask mundane questions about you and you feel trapped. Thr fear is making you just sick day after day. And one day after getting your ass handed to you by a new enforcer just looking to harass you/show off to his buddies on your way to work, you find out that maybe the cold blooded man you've been working for isn't as scary as you thought.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: canon typical violence, reader gets beat up, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort. Not beta read!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your entire goal in life was to pass by in the shadows unnoticed. To do whatever it takes to survive without attracting any kind of attention to yourself. That’s how you survive in the Lanes. Wake up, go about your business, pay your bills, and stay alive. That’s it.

So why was the Eye of Zaun himself inexplicably drawn to you? At least it seemed like that is what was happening. You had taken a job at the Last Drop as a last resort after your old job dissolved following an altercation with enforcers. The Last Drop is the epicenter of The Lanes, and the last place you want to be, but your family needs money and the job pays much better than your old one.

Still, you tried to maintain your shadow-like status. Only doing enough to keep your job. No more, no less. Nothing to draw any kind of attention to you. Yet, despite all your efforts, Silco’s presence seems to increase any time you are working. He’ll slide into a seat at the bar, and by now you have his drink memorized.

Tonight is like most others. The music is loud, the space is packed, and you and the other bartender are slammed. You just barely notice Silco slide into his usual seat, the man who was occupying it previously scurrying off as soon as he sees the King of Zaun.

You quickly tend to him, fixing his drink before he even has time to ask. You reach over and place the glass in front of him and go to move to the next customer but a slender hand wraps around your wrist, keeping you in place.

“Why such a hurry?” A familiar voice meets your ears making you stiffen slightly before turning to face Silco.

“Sorry sir,” you say, eyes avoiding his own, “we’re just busy tonight.”

“Yes well,” he takes a sip of his drink, letting your wrist go in favor of motioning you closer with a flick of his fingers, “I need to speak to you about something.”

You can’t help the way your palms start to sweat, wiping them on the bar towel tucked into your belt. “Okay, what is it?”

You watch as he runs his tongue along his cheek thoughtfully, eyes never leaving yours as he finally speaks. “Not here. Come up to my office when you’re able.” He finishes his drink in one smooth swallow and stands from his stool, pushing the glass towards you before turning and heading towards the stairs.

You feel your breathing speed up as you watch him speak to Sevika who stands guard at the bottom of the steps. The woman sends you a quick glance before nodding and letting Silco pass.

You are so fucked.

The rest of your shift is spent in inner turmoil. The quick dinner you had scarfed down on your break threatens to reappear any time you think about going up to the office. Dread and fear settle heavy in your gut at the possibilities that run through your head.

What did you do wrong? You haven’t been stealing. You haven’t caused any trouble, you don’t even think you’ve looked at someone the wrong way. But you must have done something. Something to make Silco want to talk to you privately in his office where no one can see you.

That thought alone and the ideas of what could happen are enough to make you want to run from the club and never come back. Maybe if you -

A metal hand settles heavily on the bar top, rattling glasses and grabbing your attention immediately. You look up from your menial task of polishing glassware and see Sevika leaning over the bar, a bored look on her face.

“Boss wants to see you. Now.” Her voice was firm as she talked and she jabbed her thumb over her shoulder in the direction of Silco’s office.

You nod quickly, setting the glass and rag down before coming out from behind the bar. Sevika pushes off the bar and leads the way up to Silco’s office, opening the door and holding it for you once you reach the top. You expect her to follow you inside, but when she shuts the door behind you and waits outside, the dreadful pit in your stomach grows ever deeper.

You were completely alone with the most powerful man in the undercity.

He sits behind a desk, cigar in one hand while the other holds a few sheets of paper. He looks over them quickly before finally turning his dual colored gaze to you.

“I was wondering when you would make your way up here. I waited much longer than I would’ve liked.”

Your heart stops at his words. And you clench your fists at your side. “I’m so sorry, I just - we were busy and I didn’t want-“

Silco holds up a hand and you fall silent immediately, fearful of saying anything else.

“Business comes first.” He acquiesces, “And business is precisely why I called you up here.”

“Have…have I done something wrong?” You finally ask, silently preparing yourself for whatever gruesome demise that awaits you.

The man before you looks at you, brows furrowed in confusion before they smooth out once more. He stands, snuffing out his cigar in the ashtray and moves to the small table behind his desk. He turns two glasses right side up and grabs a bottle of aged whiskey pouring some into each glass. He picked up the drinks and stalks around the desk, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Quite the opposite,” he says, finally coming to stand in front of you, offering you the second glass of whiskey. “I want to offer you a job opportunity.”

You reach out and take the glass from him hesitantly, trying desperately to ignore the tingle as your fingers brush against his gently. You glance down at the amber liquid that you swirl in your glass, taking in his words for a moment before finally speaking.

“A-a job? I already have -“

Silco sighs, “I’m aware of your current position,” he says impatiently, slowly walking back over to the desk, “Your job wouldn’t change. You’d still be a bartender. Consider this a…promotion.”

You look at him quizzically, “A promotion?”

He nods, “I’ve noticed you’re quite popular with the patrons of The Last Drop. Regulars and newcomers alike,” he says casually, take a small sip of his drink, eyes never leaving yours. “I’m sure they spill all their dirty little secrets to the unassuming bartender.”

Your shoulders physically slump at his words. It appears your attempt at being invisible has worked too well. Because he’s right. People come in and talk about all kinds of things. Rumors, deals that are going down, enforcer activity…you are probably more aware of what goes on in the city than the man in the room with you. And in this world, information is more valuable than anything.

“People talk,” you offer lamely, knowing better than to lie to him, “a lot.”

Silco smiles then, a small knowing smile that shows he’s got you right where he wants you.

“I figured as much,” he finishes off his drink and sets it back on his desk, eyes flicking down to your still full glass, “you’ll report to me at the end of every week of anything of importance. And if something seems urgent, come to me sooner.”

You move to protest, mouth opening in rebuttal before a stern gaze stops you. Seafoam green and volcanic orange just as fierce as he stares at you. “It wasn’t a suggestion. I’ll increase your base pay and include…incentives for any particularly useful information.”

It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped on you. No no no, this can’t be happening. This is the last thing you wanted. Working for Silco. And not as a bartender. Working for Silco. Your chest heaves as you struggle to take in a full breath, feet rooted to their spot as you stare wide eyed at the Eye of Zaun.

Silco, slightly annoyed by your lack of response, gestures to the glass still in your hand. “I don’t like to waste good whiskey.”

Your eyes fall to the drink that lay forgotten in your hand, and you bring the glass up to your lips downing the alcohol in one fell swoop.

The burning takes your mind off how utterly fucked you are.

The man takes the glass from your hand slowly, eyes dancing over your face slowly. If you didn’t know better you would think you saw his face soften just slightly as he takes you in. But the look is gone as soon as it appears and he pulls away from you.

“That is all,” he says calmly, “our arrangement starts tomorrow. Don’t let me down.”

You don’t stay to ask what will happen if you do disappoint him, because you’re out the door as soon as the words leave his lips.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The door closes behind you, your hurried footsteps loud on the steps until he can no longer hear them.

Silco lets out a sigh once you’re gone, a frown tugging at his lips as he walks around his desk, settling into his chair once more. He was used to the behavior you have shown, most people acted that way around him. He expected it.

So why did it bother him so much with you?

Before he could find an answer, another presence entered his office, causing him to glance towards the door.

“You scare the bartender off already?” She says, voice humorless despite the joke.

He shakes his head, “That wasn’t my intention.”

Sevika chuckles at that, “You’re aware of your reputation, right?”

“Yes,” he hissed, “and I’ve worked hard to earn it.”

His right hand shrugs, “Then what else did you expect? She probably thought you were calling her up here for much worse than a business deal.”

Silco steeples his fingers in front of his face, eyes falling down to the desk slightly. He can’t pinpoint when or why it happened, but the crime lord found himself drawn to you. It has taken him a few weeks to notice the new face, but once he did, he was impressed by how well you worked. How seamlessly you fit into an environment you clearly didn’t want to be in.

Perhaps that’s why your fear put him off so much.

“Thank you Sevika,” he says dryly, waving her off, “I’m done for the evening. Clear everyone out, will you?”

The woman nods then departs his office, leaving Silco with more thoughts on his mind than he’d like.

Most of them surrounding you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It had been several weeks since the start of your…promotion. And as much as you hate to admit it, it hasn’t been bad. You basically do the same work as before except you keep your ears open a little more and report anything you hear to Silco at the end of the week. While the meeting’s started out tense, quick, and to the point, they slowly evolved. The undercurrent of fear in your belly was still present when you were around him, but you weren’t scared of him hurting you anymore. But you still know what he’s capable of, despite the weekly reports and the drinks he pours you in his office, your instincts keep you distant.

A low whistle calls you out of your thoughts, and you slow your pace on the street. You are headed into work, the Last Drop just down the street, casting a green glow in the air. It seems like someone else has other plans for your evening, as two enforcers step out into your path.

“What do we have here?” one of them asks, voice tinny through the breathing apparatus.

You avoid their gaze, “I’m just headed to work,” you mumble, “that’s all.”

The enforcer that stopped you let out a low hum, turning to glance at his partner. “It looks to me like you might be headed to conduct some unsavory business, doesn’t it partner?”

The other man laughs and nods in agreement, “You’re right, I think we need to do a search. Just to be sure.”

You take a step back as they approach you, a panicked look in your eye. “Stay away from me,” you manage to hiss out, tugging your bag closer to you, “I haven’t done anything-“

A gloved hand shoots out and grasps the strap of your bag, ripping it from your shoulder harshly. The movement makes you stumble, but you don’t let go of your bag. It had your notes in it, the ones for Silco. And more money than you’re willing to lose. “Stop!”

You lunge forward to try and fight back but the second man is faster, the butt of his gun crashing against your temple with more force than you anticipated. Your legs falter beneath you, and your knees hit the ground harshly. The world swims before your eyes as excruciating pain blooms across your skull. You expect it to end there, for them to take what was valuable and leave, but they aren’t done with their fun yet.

While the first one sifts through your bag the other lands another blow to your cheek, followed with a swift kick to your side as you fall completely to the ground. Air is shoved from your lungs as your cheek presses heavy into the dirt. You swore you heard a crack, but you can’t even be sure over the blood rushing in your ears.

Hushed voices meet your ears and you feel yourself being dragged across the ground before being unceremoniously dropped into a nearby alleyway. Neither of your attackers say anything before landing one more hard blow to your cheek and tossing your bag at your feet.

Warmth trickles from your nose and the cut on your temple, dripping onto the ground below you. Your fingers twitch, itching to push yourself up, get to the last drop in hopes of finding some kind of aid. But all they do is scrabble at the ground, caking blood and dirt beneath your nails as your vision starts to go fuzzy at the edges.

You can’t help the airy huff of laughter that slips past your lips. You work for the most dangerous man in the Undercity, but a chance encounter with enforcers is what might kill you. How fucking ironic.

You don’t remember passing out. But you must have. Because the next thing you remember is muffled voices and hurried footsteps. You peel your eyes open, cringing slightly at the feeling of crusted blood caking your lashes. It feels like someone’s stuffed cotton in your ears and put film over your eyes. Like you're looking at what’s happening from inside a fishbowl.

You hear raised voices around you as a familiar face comes into view. One eye seafoam green and the other orange as the sun when it’s setting. Both of them are wide as he gazes down at you, before turning to bark orders at someone.

Finally after what feels like an eternity of them speaking to you, your brain finally registers what the words mean.

“Who did this to you?” he asked again, voice still fuzzy but much clearer than before.

You want to respond but your jaw bursts in pain and your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. All you manage is a whimper as his fingers reach out to brush gently against your cheek. His mouth falls into a thin line, eyes narrowed as he looks down at you. You expect him to leave you here. Leave you in this alley to die or figure out your own way. Why waste resources on you when he can replace you easily.

He doesn’t.

Proving you wrong yet again, the man you used to fear doesn’t leave you in this stinking alley. Instead, he slides his arms beneath you much gentler than you would ever expect from him. He tells, who you know see is Sevika, to get the doctor and head to the Last Drop. Then he lifts you from the ground, mindful of the way you gasp in pain as he shifts you in his grip. Finally, once he’s standing, your head falls to rest against his shoulder, uncaring of the blood that’s most likely dripping on his coat.

He says nothing as he walks out of the alley, arms wrapped firmly around you as he heads for the Last Drop. You can hear his heart beat beneath your ear, feel his fingers against you as he makes sure you don’t fall. And for the first time since you started working with him, you feel completely and utterly safe.

“Enforcers,” you mumble, the word coming out slurred and sloppy.

But Silco hears, and he understands. You feel his fingers twitch and a quick glance up allows you a glance at the dark look that settles over his face.

“I’ll make them pay,” he says, voice firm, promising as he looks down at you. “This will never happen again.”

You don’t say anything else, you can’t with the way unconsciousness tugs at your mind once more. And this time, you welcome it. Because you know as long as Silco is around, nothing else can hurt you.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Moots Tag: @twistedstitcher27 @ashotofspotchka @all-hallows-evie

#arcane #arcane silco #arcane silco x reader #silco x reader #silco

340 notes · View notes