#he's looking for someone else's wife trapped in the final memories of a dying man miles and miles above ground | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mylifeisactuallyamess · 3 years

Text

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I have been sitting on this chapter for so long I know @daydreamsofren is not looking forward to this one even though she’s read some of it already 😢

Warnings: Implied abuse, don’t judge Hux too harshly, Kylo knows more than he lets on. Many, many people die.

Word Count: 3195

Read Chapter 17 here on AO3.

Judging by the amount of meals you’d been served, you had been in this dank cell for two weeks. Either they didn’t know what to do with you or they had forgotten you, leaving your shivering form in the bowels of the ship to rot. No one had stopped by, everytime the door opened, hope flared that it was Hux, even Kylo but it was always just a trooper holding a tray of food or a quick trip to the shower, until today.

The troopers roughly grabbed you from the corner in your cell. You resisted until one raised his hand to strike you across the face, cowering, your eyes closed, you waited for the pain but it never came.

“Think about where we’re taking her.” You cracked your eye open to see the trooper drop his hand, the other one half body blocking you. “She may be a treasonous bitch but there’s nothing to stop the Grand Marshal from killing us if we lay a hand on her.” He stooped down and hauled you up by your arm. “She will cooperate.” You winced at the right grip he had on your arm. “Right?” You nodded slightly as hope surged through you.

Were they taking you to see Armitage?

Has some information come to light?

Maybe some evidence to help clear your name?

Your feet skimmed the floor in uneven steps as the troopers dragged you through the ship, the cuffs binding your wrists were unforgiving against your skin but you took the hurt. Your excitement grew the closer you got to the bridge, officers, admirals and lieutenants littered the corridors all speaking in hushed tones as you were dragged passed but the spark of hope burned brightly inside you. If you could just see Armitage’s face you’d know what fate awaited you.

You were thrown onto the floor at their feet, Kylo Ren had his mask on, barely casting a glance in your direction but you didn’t care about him. Your attention was solely on Armitage, his overcoat hid his body but you could see from the tension in his neck and the way he ignored the sound of you falling to the floor that this wasn’t good.

A blue holo-image of General Pryde was standing before them, a knowing smirk on his face as he cast a glance in Hux’s direction at your undignified arrival. You wanted to spit at the man’s feet, knowing what he’d done to your husband all those years ago but you didn’t dare. If only you’d known before, maybe if you survived this you could finally tell him what you really thought of him.

“We are ready, Allegiant General Pryde.” Rumbled Kylo from his mask. “You may begin.” The blue image paced to the left and he shouted an order to prime the cannon, now your gaze was drawn to the planet that loomed below you. The permanent grey clouds roiled across the surface, the rich green land and the deep blue seas hidden beneath the thick blanket of weather, but you knew it was there. This was Arkanis, your home planet, Hux’s home planet.

You flinched as Kylo moved, stepping behind Hux to haul you to your feet, the cuffs falling away to your surprise. His mask dipped to your eye level, the black sightless pits seemingly boring into your soul and you tried not to shiver at the feeling.

“Behave.” His grip on your sore wrist emphasised his command and you gave a single nod in understanding. He dragged you to stand next to Hux and you sneaked a look at your husband's face. He was wearing a blank expression, his eyes glassed over as though he was bored with this whole show but you saw the muscle twitch in his cheek, the subtle flex of his jaw and you knew he was stressed. Maybe seeing Arkanis again was enough to bring this reaction out of him, but you got the sense something else was at play here. The amount of personnel on the bridge made you slightly nervous, you’d never seen it so busy before. Mitaka stood rigidly to the side, his gaze sliding over you like you weren’t even there.

Kylo pointed and your gaze followed the line of his arm seeing another destroyer in orbit next to the Finalizer, the resurgent-class ship was facing the planet, a huge axial super-laser cannon nestled on the underbelly started to glow and your gaze flitted to the holo image of General Pryde. Horror dawned on you as soon as the word “Fire” left his mouth and without thinking your hand snatched Hux's in a tight grip. The shots flew from the gun, firing with extreme accuracy and power, penetrating the surface of your homeworld.

The reaction was slow, the wound in the crust ripped at an agonising pace from up here, debris rose high into the atmosphere, the red lava from the centre of the planet was evident through the clouds and you blinked tears out of your eyes at the sight. All those people, your people. No warning, an entire planet eradicated before you, a planet whose allegiance was to the First Order. You felt Armitage’s fingers close around yours and a slight gasp escaped you at the sensation. It felt like your entire life was being wiped before your very eyes, your history, your home, friends, family, everything that had made you was burning away.

“Isn’t it glorious?” Someone mumbled and you wanted to whip round and say something scathing but Hux’s hand tightened even more around yours in warning. You couldn’t help the soft sob that made your chest heave, your gaze pulling away from the destruction to look at your husband. The reflection of the growing fireball highlighted in his eyes, his mouth set in a hard line as he tried desperately not to react. You looked down at your feet before turning to look up at Kylo, his mask turning to see your tear stained face and you wished you could see his face. Just this once, so you could read his emotions, but all he did was tilt his head towards the spectacle that everyone else was watching with a sick sense of awe.

Memories echo at the back of your mind, the sound of the Arkanis rain on the leaves, the rippling water on the pond you had stood next to when you first met Armitage. The house you had grown up in ringing with your childhood laughter, your mother’s grave, your friend's wedding, all blown out of existence. A blinding light made you inhale sharply as the planet began to collapse, the surface in burning turmoil until it became so unstable it finally exploded. You hoped the debris that was left would knock into the ships and kill everyone but they were too far away, the shields protecting them from any that did make it and they were out of the gravitational pull of the destroyed planet.

You closed your eyes, the tears still falling unchecked as the intense light of your dying world shone through your eyelids. You went to lean against Armitage, curling your other hand around his arm to seek some comfort for you and him but he moved, his hand untangling from yours as he went to check on the status of his ship leaving you standing alone. You heard General Pryde chuckle and anger blazed through you, your eyes fixed on the smirking form and you went to take a step forward, your mouth open to unleash your fury but a pressure started in your throat making you pause. You could still breathe, but the blockage rendered you speechless, you turned your fury onto Kylo but he just regarded you coolly from the protection of his mask.

“Take her back to her cell.” He commanded with indifference. The troopers grabbed you giving you no choice but to leave, making you realise this had been a show to get to you and Armitage. To make you realise that now you had nowhere to go, no homeworld to run to, no support system to hide you, in this vast Galaxy you and your husband were now more alone than you had ever been before.

You wanted to lean on him and let him lean on you, but that would never happen. He had made up his mind about you, he had what he wanted with his position within the First Order. He never needed you, he had said as much in Canto Bight. You wondered if those words you’d heard him say held more truth than the ones that followed, that supposed declaration of love. You were shoved along the corridors, your heart flaking away with each thought, knowing that you were going to die here. No one to save you, no evidence to clear your name and hopelessness fell heavily on you. When the door to your cell closed leaving you in darkness you wept, feeling the grief of loss at everything you had ever known and the knowledge that hope was just a dream for children.

After you had been dragged away Hux had taken his leave from the bridge, highly aware of Ren’s hidden gaze on his retreating back but he didn’t care. He needed privacy. He stood in the quiet of his own quarters, his hand flexing as he remembered the way your fingers curled around it. The feel of your trembling body against his as you both watched the destruction of your home world, obliterated in moments, everything you’d both ever known eradicated in a blaze of fire. He hadn’t expected his feelings to be so strong on this, he had hated Arkanis and the awful memories it possessed for him but also it held memories he cherished. His mother, the maze where he spent most of his childhood and meeting you, who made him realise he was allowed to have a moment of happiness. A foolish, fleeting moment. Your marriage had been filled with war and he wished he had not been blindsided, this is what his father had been trying to teach him. Weakness would bring his downfall and he had fallen into that trap and not even realised. If you’d stayed on Arkanis after the wedding none of this would have happened….or maybe it would have. His wife, you would have still been on the planet, moving in the same circles and probably moved over to the Resistance a lot sooner.

And you’d be dead. But he wouldn’t have felt the love for you growing in his own chest, he wouldn’t have experienced your warmth, he wouldn’t have felt your body shiver under his. He never would have breathed in your scent, or touched your soft skin and your death would have been easier to cope with. Because he wouldn’t miss you, he wouldn’t miss what you had shown him.

His hand flexed again, the shadow of your touch still affecting him even now. He stood silently staring at the table top, his gloved fingertips gently resting on the surface lost in his swirling thoughts. You were going to die anyway, you had performed an act of treason and he couldn't save you from this, not without losing everything he had worked so desperately hard for. Was it worth it? He clearly didn’t deserve the happiness you had bestowed upon him, and now he had to make the decision if he could live with or without you. He felt anger manifest in his chest, he shouldn’t have to make this decision, if only Ren had kept his hands to himself, the petty jealousy that the oaf harboured had ruined this for him…..hadn’t it? Hux visibly deflated with a sigh, he was the one that agreed to be a suitor for you. His father had owed your father a favour and Hux had agreed to repay, so he was responsible for this, all of these events that had led…to this. He had the power to say no, he had the wealth to pay your father off but he knew it would be squandered and you’d still be left with nothing. And now….you only had your life left and he was probably going to take that too. He had lost the few people that were close to him, the Galaxy just proving his father was right yet again.

Raising you is such a waste of my time.

You are such a waste of space, a useless fool!

What are you good for boy if you can’t even carry a tray of drinks?!

You are an embarrassment!

So disappointing…

You think I would turn this project over to you? Brainless idiot, you are not worthy of the glory it would bring.

You are not worthy of anything…

You don’t deserve the life I have given you.

No one could ever love you….

But you had. Even if it was fleeting, it had been there blazing, alive, existing. And it was going to end like everything else.

A notification made the screen of his datapad light up and his gaze was drawn to it, your prisoner number leaping out at him and the decision he had to make was now upon him. He straightened, clearing his thoughts and focussing on the task at hand. He adjusted his cuff, his gloved hand brushing the material in such a simple, comforting motion and he felt everything falling away. He slipped behind the mask that had protected him all through his life, the blank face that showed nothing of his inner turmoil. The armour he placed over himself had grown impenetrable over the years and he leaned on it heavily. He was going to need it now, more than ever.

He hated it, the way your face lit up when you saw him at the door of your cell. You were huddled in the corner, your head buried in your hands, tears streaming down your face and he nearly, nearly halted this whole thing. But he couldn’t, he had no choice, the wheels were in motion, there were rules, regulations. He had to harden himself more, if anyone else under his command had performed the treason you had they would be dead already. Because that's what it was, an act of treason. You rushed to him, hushed pleas falling from your lips as you begged him not to go through with this, you were innocent, you didn’t know what you were doing even though he’d found you at a Resistance sympathisers wedding. He concentrated on the evidence and how it stacked against you, he couldn’t ignore it, he couldn’t forget the echoes of pain that clawed at his heart. You had done this, you. Betraying him, the First Order, the Supreme Leader…

You pawed at his paralysed form, tugging on his uniform with your desperate hands as he just stood there staring at the wall over your head. Finally his hands grabbed yours in a vice like grip to stop you touching him, he needed you to stop. He said your name in a deadpan voice, listing off your treasonous act followed by the sentence. Death. You were frozen, your mouth open in horror that he would go this far, that he would allow this to happen but he had no choice. You had gone against him, you had sided with the scum of the Galaxy and he would treat you as such no matter how much it obliterated his soul. The troopers moved into the cell, ripping you from his grip and he found himself holding on for just a moment, to feel your soft skin, to smell your wonderful hair. Just a moment, frozen in time so he could remember the feeling of you for the rest of his life and then you were being dragged away. Your screams echoed down the hallway but he couldn’t move, his boots were rooted to the grated floor, tears threatened to fall but he grit his teeth and fought them.

Please! Please no! Armitage! Please, please! He could not show weakness, he could not show feeling, if he did he would lose everything. But you were his everything…

He blocked out the inner voice, wishing for the first time in his life that his fathers voice would override his feelings like it always did, snapping him back onto the right path with the brutality he needed, but it didn’t come. Just your pleading screams, still echoing around him tearing pieces of him away with every screech. He finally moved to the cell door, leaning against the frame heavily as his breath left his body. He couldn’t get enough air in, he needed you. Where were you? He whispered your name, but you weren’t here and he couldn’t hear you anymore.

A shot rang out down the hallway and Hux's head snapped towards the sound.

“No….” He had to see. He stumbled forward, the corridor swimming before him and he had to use the sides to steady himself. The troopers closed the trash shoot just as he got there, Kylo Ren standing watching, making sure the task was done. Making sure you no longer existed. The pain that lanced from his heart was excruciating, making his legs give way so he fell hard to the floor drawing all their attention.

“You, take the General back to his quarters and get a medic, you, come with me.” Kylo went to turn away but the trooper just stood there staring at Hux. “Trooper! Don’t make me send you for reconditioning!” The trooper jumped and hurried to Kylo’s side leaving a struggling Hux in the arms of the other.

Kylo marched through the corridors of the Finalizer, the trooper hot on his heels. He could tell no one knew what he’d done, the other trooper he had bent to his will, he’d have no recollection of what had transpired. He could still feel the ripples through the force from Hux no matter how hard he tried to shut him out until finally a medic sedated him and the waves stopped, the force becoming still once more. Or so he thought, the chaotic energy that followed the trooper behind him was distracting but he had to focus. At the far end of the hangar TIE’s lined the bays and he paused at the stairs, the trooper nearly colliding with his back.

“Take this TIE.”

“I-I can’t fly it!” Kylo looked round seeing a pilot and called him over.

“You! FL-6194!”

“Supreme Leader?” Kylo raised his hand, feeling the pilot's mind and taking control, it was so easy bending them to his will, they were all so weak minded, so ready to obey.

“You will take this trooper and fly to these coordinates. Once you arrive at your destination you will terminate yourself.” Kylo could feel the thoughts falling into place, the settling of the mind, stripping the pilot of his panic and replacing it with purpose.

“Yes, Supreme Leader.”

“K-Kylo!”

“Go. Now.” He turned with a flare of cloak, you needed to leave. Before anyone knew what he’d done, before anyone suspected, you needed to go.

30 notes · View notes

seven-oomen · 4 years

Text

If You Are Going Through Hell, Keep Going

These are the words that Marin Morrell – Druid, Emissary, Guidance Counselor – says to Stiles Stilinski in “Battlefield” (02x11) And I think they suit his character just perfectly, because Stiles has been going through Hell all his life.

The Teen Wolf Fandom don’t talk nearly enough about Stiles’ traumas, so I’ll try my best to do it myself *I won’t even remotely touch on the Void Stiles, Dark Stiles, Donovan and the Nogitsune trauma though, because it’s extremely complex and deserves its own Meta*

It’s Canon that Noah was an alcoholic (as Rafael pointed out to Stiles in 03x11 Alpha Pact), that he neglected and lashed out at his own child (Stiles’ memory in 02x09 Party Guessed), and that Stiles was verbally, emotionally, and physically abused by his mentally ill mother, Claudia, throughout his childhood (there’s a whole magnificently acted, heart wrenching scene about it with flashbacks and all in 05x06 Required Reading.) It’s Canon that Stiles had to take care of himself and of his father before AND after Claudia’s death. And it’s Canon that Stiles – who was only an eight years old child at the time – was at the hospital with his mother when she died, nobody else:

[Teen Wolf Season 3 Episode 11, Alpha Pact]

CHRIS: You knew… I remember meeting you once, before you were Sheriff. You questioned me about a body. You knew something was up. You just weren’t ready to believe it.

NOAH: You’re right. There was a night eight years ago… the night my wife died. I was at the end of a shift, and a call came in. There had been a pile-up, and a young woman… she was a teenager, actually. She was trapped under an overturned car. We had to wait for the paramedics. We were never getting her out, but I was able to hold her hand. She knew she was gonna die. But I just kept telling her “No, no, listen. The paramedics are on their way.” And then I remember her hand suddenly gripped mine so tightly that I literally thought she was gonna break the bones. And she looked me in the eyes, and she said “If you wanna be with her, go now.” And I knew she was talking about my wife… But then that other part of my brain — the part that looks for clues, for fingerprints, for logical connections… that part told me that there is no way that this girl could possibly know about Claudia. And so I stayed. I stayed until the paramedics pulled her out. Until her heart stopped beating and they declared her dead.

NOAH: When I finally got to the hospital, I saw Stiles sitting in the waiting room with his head in his hands… He was with Claudia when she died.

NOAH: But I wasn’t. I wasn’t with her because I didn’t believe… I just did not believe.

It’s also Canon that Derek Hale is a rape victim and that the hunters slaughtered Derek, Cora and Peter’s entire pack/family (including humans and children.) And it’s Canon that Stiles immediately sides with the Hales and openly confronts Chris about what Kate had done to the Hales in 01x12, Code Breaker:

CHRIS: Let me ask you a question, Stiles. Have you ever seen a rabid dog?

STILES: No. I could put it on my to-do list, if you just let me go.

CHRIS: Well, I have. And the only thing I’ve ever been able to compare it to is seeing a friend of mine turn on a full moon. Do you wanna know what happened?

STILES: Not really. No offense to your storytelling skills.

CHRIS: He tried to kill me, and I was forced to put a bullet in his head. The whole while that he lay there dying, he was still trying to claw his way toward me, still trying to kill me, like it was the most important thing he could do with his last breath. Can you imagine that?

STILES: No. And it sounds like you need to be a little bit more select—

CHRIS: Did Scott try to kill you on the full moon? Did you have to lock him up?

STILES: Yeah, I did. I had to handcuff him to a radiator. Why? Would you prefer I locked him in the basement and burned the whole house down around him?

CHRIS: I hate to dispel a popular rumor, Stiles, but we never did that.

STILES: Oh, right. Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no one ever breaks it.

CHRIS: Never!

STILES: What if someone does?

CHRIS: Someone like who?

STILES: Your sister.

Unlike self-proclaimed hero and ruler of Beacon Hills Scott McCall, who immediately sides with the Argents and tells Derek Hale that his family deserved to be burnt alive by the hunters in front of his comatose uncle………..

-----

I feel like there is a lot to unpack on Stiles’s trauma. And I will go over these moments one by one, why they’re damaging, what I think the context of the scene is supposed to represent ft how people might take it. And what my personal thoughts are regarding Stiles’s trauma.

First of, I would like to say that the following words are my take on this. I am a 29 year old trans man of caucasian descend who is an domestic violence and abuse survivor. I am diagnosed with ADHD since 12 and diagnosed with CPTSD since this year. I understand trauma and I understand what it does to people. But I am not a professional. I am a fan, who’s responding to the submission of another, anonymous, fan.

You are completely free to have your own takes on this matter and your own headcanons. That’s what fandom is for.

That said, I would love to have a discussion if you can have it peacefully.

Stiles is a character who was (Unwillingly) neglected, emotionally traumatized and both emotionally and verbally abused by both of his parents. There is even evidence of physical abuse by his mother.

I think it does need to be said, that neither of his parents intended for this to happen. What happened in the Stilinski family was by and large a very traumatic event for everyone involved.

Noah is an alcoholic, as Stiles also confirms in the episode that Noah never really stopped drinking. His alcoholism is a result of his own traumas and possible ND mind and an unhealthy coping mechanism.

As a result of this, Noah most likely was verbally and emotionally abusive during his drunken tirades.

I personally think that before Claudia was diagnosed and got sick Stiles had a good childhood. His parents tried their best to be good parents for him and laid a good foundation for him. This is evidenced in the bond Stiles seems to have with his father in general. He’s not afraid of his father, he’s nervous about consequences. But he never gives off a vibe to me that truly says; I fear this man and I have to stay in line to stay alive.

Unlike Isaac and his father.

This also tells me, that unlike Elias Stilinski, Noah never lashed out physically at Stiles. He was trying to break a cycle of abuse but more than likely still fell victim to it himself when he could no longer cope with trauma and his neurodivergency and started drinking.

That doesn’t mean that he’s not guilty of abusing his own son. We know Noah can be neglectful and dismissive towards Stiles (even though he tries his best not to be) and has a tendency to low key insult Stiles from time to time. Whether or not he truly means to or not is up for debate, I personally think he doesn’t mean to do it, but Stiles is clearly heartbroken every time Noah accidentally lashes out.

As evidenced by sentences: “I’ve never believed a word he said since he was born.” “Thank you, son I should have had.” (To Scott)

Stiles already has a deep founded fear that he’s not enough, that he killed his own mother, that he’s not believed by the people around him, and that people don’t want to take him seriously.

This is clear in every interaction he has with the people around him.

Which also brings me to what happened in 2x09. Now based on the context clues of that scene, I actually don’t believe Stiles saw a play-by-play memory. But rather, Stiles saw his greatest fear play out in a hallucination.

Why do I believe that?

Because in the same scene, Allison has a hallucination about becoming her own worst nightmare (a huntress like Kate) and Scott sees a hallucination of Allison and Jackson making out. (Aka, losing Allison.)

I think the scene both has fabrications and truths in it. The truth is that more than likely, Stiles saw his father getting drunk at his mother’s funeral and lashing out at people around him in his drunken stupor. (Which on one hand, one can understand if you take the pain and trauma into account, but it’s not a healthy or an okay thing to do, obviously. This is definitely where Noah fell apart.)

I also like to think one of the other adults put a stop to Noah’s behavior before he could get out of hand. But we never really see her funeral play out, so that is speculation.

The fabrication is the scene that follows. We know that Claudia was the one that actually said the words to Stiles. “You’re killing me, he’s killing me.”

And that Noah was the voice of reason in that scene. “No, he’s not. You’re sick, let’s go back inside.” (Or something along those lines. I can’t remember the exact words.)

What I think is more than likely is that Stiles’s greatest fear is that his father actually believes he killed his mother. As that is what his mother said to him before she died. And so that’s what he hallucinated under the influence of the wolfsbane.

Stiles’s greatest fear is losing both of his parents, no matter in what way that is. He also fears that he failed as a son, and failed to take care of his father. All of this is fueled by losing his mother and watching her die at a very young age.

And that is where Stiles’s trauma truly lies. He watched his mother die (at the age of 10) slowly while she lost her mind to a terrible illness.

His father couldn’t handle losing his wife and not being able to help her and the previous traumas he endured in his own childhood. And Stiles had to step up to take care of him. That changes a child and leaves a mark. A mark that Stiles can’t shake.

We know Noah neglected Stiles by not being able to care for him as he should have, we know Noah tends to think Stiles has wild conspiracy theories and tends not to believe him.

Which traumatized Stiles even though Noah didn’t intend for that to happen. That doesn’t mean that Stiles’s trauma isn’t real though. It’s very real. This is also the reason why he immediately chooses Derek’s side in 1x12.

For Stiles, not being believed is a daily reality and he doesn’t want anyone else to go through that as well. Which is why he chooses Derek’s side. Because Stiles, due to his own trauma, is hard-wired to believe the victim and tends to defend them.

Now I think a lot of people take a lot of Stiles’s scenes literal because they identify with what’s happening on screen. Because Stiles isn’t being believed by the other characters, the audience tends to take his perspective at face value. Even in situations where it’s made clear that Stiles, like other characters, is hallucinating at the time.

And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that, but I do think it’s something to consider.

Tagging a few people who might want to add a thought or two to this.

@mostly-vo1d @artemisa97 @msmischief101

#stiles stilinski #teen wolf #teen wolf meta #trauma #ptsd discussion #submission

115 notes · View notes

dramioneficrecommendations · 4 years

Note

Hiii I accidentally jumped in dramione fandom, and I'm looking for good stuff for this weekend. Could pls tell me your 5 (or more)favorite dramione fics ever? Thanks!

I hope you like it here and stay with us… forever. LOL (Honestly, we have the best fics and authors in the entire HP fandom.)

Here are some of my all-time favourite Dramione fics (you can also check out my fic rec tag):

Revert by SUPRNTRAL LVR: Six months post-war, Malfoy is in serious trouble. He’s on the run from the Ministry, Death Eaters, and a deadly curse which is eating him alive. When he hits rock bottom, a change in fortune lands him in 12 Grimmauld Place under the Ministry’s custody - and forces Hermione to remember the secrets they’ve both kept for years. Dramione, Sick!Draco, flashbacks to Hogwarts, hurt. Rated: M - Chapters: 24 - Words: 260,266

Manacled by SenLinYu: Harry Potter is dead. In the aftermath of the war, in order to strengthen the might of the magical world, Voldemort enacts a repopulation effort. Hermione Granger has an Order secret locked away in her mind. She is sent as an enslaved surrogate to the High Reeve, to be bred and monitored until it can be accessed. COMPLETE. Rated: M - Chapters: 77 - Words: 384,000

Isolation by Bex-chan: He can’t leave the room. Her room. And it’s all the Order’s fault. Confined to a small space with only the Mudblood for company, something’s going to give. Maybe his sanity. Maybe not. “There,” she spat. “Now your Blood’s filthy too!” DM/HG. PostHBP. Now complete with epilogue. Rated: M - Chapters: 49 - Words: 284,050

Five Days by RavieSnake: No one knows that they are missing. No one knows where they are. No one knows that they are trapped. No one knows that they are dying. Dramione. WINNER for Best Drama/Angst and Best Tragedy in the Winter 2017 Dramione Fanfiction Awards! Rated: M - Chapters: 14 - Words: 32,001

Aurelian by BittyBlueEyes: Two years after the war, a young stranger pays a visit to the burrow. His arrival alone is baffling, but the news he brings of an upcoming war turns the world upside down. Hermione’s quiet, post-war life will never be the same. Rated: T - Chapters: 43 - Words: 270,571

The Politician’s Wife by pir8fancier: Hermione hates Draco in the springtime, Hermione hates Draco in the fall, Hermione hates Draco 247. Rated: M - Chapters: 14 - Words: 68,629

The Revenant by atalanta84: Sometimes fate brings us far from home, and sometimes it brings us back again. When a friend’s mysterious death causes Draco Malfoy to return to Britain, he is finally forced to face his past, and the love he left behind. A story about second chances. Rated: M - Chapters: 10 - Words: 67,866

The Fool, the Emperor, and the Hanged Man by ianthewaiting: Ten years after the fall of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger leads of life of self-imposed obscurity, that is, until the day Headmistress Minerva McGonagall is murdered and a certain ‘hero’ is responsible. DM/HG, written originally in 2007-2008, and finally making its debut here! AU, DH-EWE, non-canon elements, time travel, character death, etc. Rated: M - Chapters: 28 - Words: 229,334

The Dragon’s Bride by Rizzle: 7th year. Draco & Hermione awaken in a Muggle hotel room, naked, hung-over and tattooed. They also happen to be married. Thus begin a desperate search for a solution to their sticky situation. Rated: M - Chapters: 61 - Words: 225,164

The Eagle’s Nest by HeartOfAspen: COMPLETE: Hermione’s eighth year at Hogwarts is already going to be difficult in the aftermath of the war, but it is further thrown into upheaval when Headmistress McGonagall orders a re-sorting of all students to promote inter-house unity. But when the Sorting Hat sends Hermione to Ravenclaw with Draco - and without Harry or Ron, how will she cope? [AU/Dramione] Prevalent alchemy. Rated: M - Chapters: 70 - Words: 306,322

Thirteenth Night by Nelpher: When Hermione is assigned to keep tabs on a memory-charmed Draco, she is faced with a decision that could change her life forever. Rated: M - Words: 77,997 Chapters: 23

Ordinary People by inadaze22: “Let me be clear about something tonight, Granger. You’re the only woman I’ve ever wanted. It’s always been you.” Draco steps in the fireplace, drops the Floo powder, and disappears in a burst of green flames. Rated: M - Chapters: 18 - Words: 133,759

This, Too, Is Sacred by HeartOfAspen: COMPLETE: An ancient power has required generations of purebloods to pledge their lives to the blood pact. Draco has long known he was born to uphold this tradition… but Hermione’s parents have secrets, hidden details about her heritage, and soon it will be her turn to cast in with fate. [Dramione AU] Fantastic cover art by Witches-Britches. Rated: M - Chapters: 23 - Words: 90,994

Gravity by luckei1: It’s about arranging stacks of books, wall colours, and jumping off a cliff. Draco/Hermione Rated: T - Chapters: 10 - Words: 87,155

Dystopia (new version) by Rizzle: Kidnapped and expecting to be abandoned to his fate, Draco Malfoy writes a personal account of recent life, love and loss after the end of the Second Wizarding War. His story encompasses two unforgivable acts, a wedding, a divorce, a kidnapping and maybe, just maybe…a rescue. Rated: M - Chapters: 15 - Words: 19,885

A Slow Cruel Descent by SenLinYu: The war grinds on and Hermione Granger is captured. Unable to crack her through interrogation without risking her mind, Voldemort conceives a cruel method of breaking her that involves Draco Malfoy. “He stared at her in disgust. She looked— broken. The fire she’d still had when she was dragged in was now extinguished. Her eyes were locked on his face like she were memorizing him.” Rated: M - Chapters: 2 - Words: 8,687 (Sequel: A Fragile Ascent)

Heavy Lies the Crown by luckei1: For seven years, Draco has carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and just when he thinks he’ll be released, something happens that will make him seek help from the last person he could have imagined. Rated: M - Chapters: 36 - Words: 289,967

To Wear a Dragon’s Skin by creativelymundane: When Bellatrix Lestrange takes control of the wizarding world after the demise of Voldemort, the remnants of the Order keep fighting. Seven years later, Draco brings Hermione a piece of magic that might be the key to finally ending the war. Together they will destroy Bellatrix Lestrange or die trying. Violence, Implicit Rape, Sexual Situations. Rated: M - Chapters: 26 - Words: 137,484

A Pound of Flesh by PennilynNovus: One night at a strip club, Hermione is faced with someone from her past, and an opportunity too good to pass up. What starts as revenge quickly grows into something else, and she may find it to be more than she can handle. Limes, Lemons, M. Rated: NC-17 - Chapters: 33

A Wonderful Caricature of Intimacy by Countess of Abe: Draco loves his son more than anything in the world. So, when his ex-wife plans to take his son away, Draco asks the most unlikely person for help. Hermione must decide whether changing her entire life is worth helping the man she hates unconditionally. Rated: M - Chapters: 25 - Words: 136,998

Apple Pies and Other Amends by ToEatAPeach: “It’s a veritable PTSD tour. With pastries. And hand-skimmed clotted cream. And Hermione has no idea why she’s doing it, but it’s becoming very apparent that she is.” Sometimes you’re sad. Sometimes you need dessert. And sometimes, it’s a little of both. [COMPLETE, DRAMIONE] Rated: M - Chapters: 30 - Words: 80,226

Fairy Stone by Colubrina: Draco is sentenced to one year in Azkaban, release contingent upon someone willing to vouch for his good behavior. Hermione does. “Oh, I want you,” he said. “You, just you, always you. You forever and you for always and you until the bloody sun explodes.” Dramione. COMPLETE. Rated: M - Chapters: 4 - Words: 13,827

The Mountain and The Sea by Alexis.Danaan: Hermione Granger was perfectly happy with her life, her job as a Healer Trainee, her ugly cat and her cute little house in the countryside. And then Draco Malfoy had to go and mess that all up, typical git. Post-Hogwarts, EWE, OOC, creature!fic. 18 Rated: M - Chapters: 12 - Words: 43,464

Celestial Navigation by phlox: Lost, without direction, unable to find your way home? Coming soon, a new Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes Ekeltronic to guide you on your journey! *Your mileage may vary.*Rated: T - Chapters: 3 - Words: 13,640

Waiting Room by Nelpher: A series of encounters with Draco Malfoy in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s teaches Hermione about love, friendship, and the intersection thereof. Rated: T - English Words: 61,418 Chapters: 14

Voices by Kyonomiko: Hermione has long accepted she might not make it through the war alive, but after years on the battlefield, she never expected to be at the mercy of Draco Malfoy. Not untouched by his own experiences, his manic behavior leaves her living in constant fear of the unknown, suffering both affections and afflictions at his hands. Rated: M - Chapters: 3 - Words: 19,724

Friend Number Three by riptey: COMPLETE - How do you deal with the Pureblood aristocracy, Ministry corruption, Muggle culture invasions, and constant questions about your love life while juggling more than two friends and not being a total jerk? Don’t ask Draco: he doesn’t know. D/Hr Rated: T - Chapters: 26 - Words: 138,388

Seven Days In April by inadaze22: They were still the same people with the same problems on either side of a bathroom door. Rated: T - Chapters: 7 - Words: 40,097

Everything Changes by inadaze22: “Thank you for cheating on me, Ron. It’s the best thing you could’ve done. Thank you for stopping me from making the worst mistake of my life.” My first Dramione story. Rated M for strong language and sexual content. Rated: M - Chapters: 17 - Words: 76,191

Out of the Silent Planet by ianthe_waiting: Post-Hogwarts - Hermione Granger fulfills Severus Snape’s final wish, to journey to Japan to ‘retrieve’ something of importance. Set eleven years after HBP. Rated: NC-17 - Chapters: 39 - Words: 229,710

Ardent Bonds by Musyc: Maybe it was wrong to think about this, maybe it was horrible to even consider, but if Draco Malfoy liked to dominate, she couldn’t stop herself from picturing it. Picturing him. Rated: E - Words: 16,741 - Chapters: 1

Seven Times by kerriclifford240879: Seven times can mean a lifetime of change. Rated: M - Chapters: 7 - Words: 16,526

#dramione #draco x hermione #hermione x draco #Draco Malfoy #Hermione Granger #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #dramioneficrecommendations #ask

639 notes · View notes

bitchfitch · 3 years

Text

Copper artfight resource

big soft boy. if a cup of spicy hot chocolate was a massive apex predator/ obligate carnivore.

mikely stabbed him the first time they met and he fell in love Instantly.

an excerpt:

Death crept through the lavish halls of a rich man's home. Old cracked paint flaked beside sun faded tapestries and over well worn wood floors. The raged leather soles of of his boots softly thumping along with the creaking of old wood that accompanied his every step. He found the room easily, following the sound of a fading cough and short not quite gasping breaths that failed to draw enough air.

He ducked through the door and the dying man greeted him with age hazed eyes and a broad grin.

"Copper!" his exclamation carried joy even if his lungs couldn't support more than a creaking whisper, "Bastard, it's so good to see you again," he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes closing as he did so,

"And you as well," Copper returned the smile as he sat in the chair beside the bed, "But to be honest I'm a touch surprised, both that you can see anything through those cataracts, and that you would… Appreciate my presence,"

The rich man chuckled, "Not many people have hair that color, even fewer are as tall as you. I may not be able to see much, but I can still see that,"

"I suppose you're right," Copper huffs with a hand going to his dark red mess of a mane "Still, you must remember the terms of our deal and what my presence means for you now?"

"I do," he nods, "I'm going to die tonight, going to see Min again,"

"Min?"

"My wife," he smiles as he speaks of her even as his words become more labored, "That quill you gave me, I wrote a letter to the girl I had fallen in love with when we were young. I didn't know she couldn't read, so she had to get someone else to read it to her, but when she'd heard what I wrote she came all the way into the valley to slap me and call me an idiot," he laughs, "Told me we should've eloped when we were both still fresh, before she'd found another man to call her own,

I'd not even thought that she'd have gone on like that. It made sense, she could have, and did, do so much better than me. But luck of lucks saw that husband of hers dead not long after. I felt bad for being so happy, but I couldn't stop smiling when she and I married,

That quill- You, gave me the happiest life I could have imagined. I'm glad to pay my end of the deal now, because it means I get to see her again,"

"It's a rare treat to find someone with no regrets, thank you for your story," Copper smiles softly, genuine and warm,

"Oh, I've got regrets," the rich man say "Many, but I don't care to dwell on them, not now… or… Well, one, there's one,"

"Hmm?"

"Min and I, we had a fight right before… She was so mad at me last time I saw her. Do you think she still is?"

"I don't know, but you will have plenty of time to make it up to her soon,"

"Yeah, yeah that's true… It's close now is it?"

"Moments if I had to guess," Copper shrugs, "The clot in your lung is migrating and will soon block off blood flow to the area completely. After that happens you won't be able to get enough air and will… fall asleep, then you will suffocate over a few minutes. It won't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it won't hurt badly," he simplified things greatly, not caring for the slight inaccuracies so long as they helped keep the rich man calm and peaceful in these final moments.

"Any final requests?" Copper cocks his head,

"I think… yeah, I think I want to be alone for this. Thank you,"

"Of course. Rest well then, and may your sleep bring great growth" Copper stood from his seat, the blessing leaving him without thought as the rich man closed his eyes a smile still tugging on his old, withered face.

The door to the rich man's room shut with a light thud as Copper drifted down the halls, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He rarely visited the dying, usually he only came to the deceased caught between their death's and their afterlives to guide them across, and this was why. He knew where the clot was, it would only take a moment and a little bit of concentration to break it up enough that the rich man's body would be able to handle it on it's own. Sure, doing so would probably only buy him a few more bed bound days, a week maybe, but healers can rarely be trusted to leave the sick and dying to the whims of nature and he was no different.

He wandered through the empty halls decorated with treasures that, do to a single deal made half a century ago, would soon be his, and found his way into a shrine room. Shelves upon shelves of precious jewls and metals, fine fabrics and sculptures filled the room. Though the alter beneath the stained glass window held only sea glass and shells that glittered from around a poorly made tapestry that depicted a stormy ocean.

The threads were too loose in some places too tight in others and there were places where it was clear the weaver ran out of one color and had attempted to dye more only for it to come out just wrong enough to be noticed. It was clearly made by inexperienced hands and now stood displayed still in it's loom in the place of honor on this shrine. Pride in its existence radiated from it and that made it stunning despite it's flaws.

Distantly, he felt the rich man die, quietly and peacefully.

One of Copper's aspects would guide him across and later while Copper slept he'd dream of the conversation that aspect and the rich man would have, and he would dream of the conversations his other, near innumerable, aspects would have, and have had, and have been having with every other human who has crossed into his domain since he last slept. Then he would wake, and forget almost everything said during those conversations as they meld together into a messy but beautiful tapestry. All the threads visible and traceable in their places but ultimately he saw it not for the individuals, but the grander thing they made together.

He picked at the stones and shells scattered on one of the shelves, his dulled claws scraping against the rough surface. He should probably go find someone to deal with the body…

The soft creaking protest of a floor board that no longer fit in it's place being tread on called from behind him. Copper turned, curious to who or what would be intruding on this moment, but he was left slack jawed with a greeting trapped behind his lips as he saw the man.

Surrounded by gold and silver and precious gems that glittered in the low moonlight that flowed through the windows, this man outshone them all. He was tall for a human, coming up to just below Copper's collar bones, with broad, strong looking shoulders. His sharp features highlighted by the silver light caressing his warm tan skin and haloed by that same light echoing through the broken strands of bleach blonde hair that fell from his neat bun to frame his narrow face.

Light agitation turned to wonder and awesrrucked silence as Copper struggled for a second to find words, but once again those words died when he met the man's eyes, they were probably a deep brown but the low light turned them onyx. His gaze was sturdy, not cold or calculating, not bored. Determined but practiced.

The strange, beutiful, human man wore the expression of a butcher or a slaughterer, he did not draw perverse pleasure or joy from what came next. He was so obviously merely doing a job as he moved faster than Copper's confusion addled mind could react to that that alone struck more fear into Copper's core than if the man were hissing and snapping with rage.

The ice hot cut of an iron blade dug past the flesh between his ribs and into his chest even as he recoiled. On pure instinct he growled an awful rumbling sound that made the butcher- the hunter, flinch as Copper managed to stumble away, nearly falling to one knee as his own lung struggled to inflate. He could feel his magic burning along the wound as it tried, and failed to pull it closed. His hand going to his bloodied side in a vain attempt of staunching the flow.

The hunter advanced, cautious and silent, his blade, slicked with Copper's own viscous black blood, raised as he followed the retreating god.

Copper hissed as his back collided with a shelf, cornered he pulled his attentions together just enough to attempt to teleport away, only to feel his magic jolt painfully within him as it failed completely.

The hunter advanced, already readying another swing.

In that moment Copper forced himself to focus on the warm summer night air, on the flickering candles and the heat of the hunter's body, most seals could be overpowered, he just needs to rush it hard enough.

Heat leaves the room, the hunter stumbles with a pained gasp as the heat leaves him too. Copper doesn't see if the hunter falls because the seal gives as he uses all of that stolen energy to burst against it.

He drops to his knees on the cold stone floor of the cave he calls home. His blood singing through magic seared veins, his hands shaking as he braces one against the floor below him as his world swims, both from blood loss and the disorientation that always came with pushing his power that hard,

He struggles with his wound, gasping with effort as his magic finally starts working again. The wound tieing itself closed beneath his palm, a thick black scar forming as he comes down from the mountain top high of fearing for his life for the very first time since before the advent of this universe.

Copper slumps against the water-carved wall of his home, his head falling back against it with a deep buzz running beneath his skin, and he Laughs, deep and hearty and Alive in a way he has not felt in centuries.

---

A day passed, and Copper's wound still ached every time he bent wrong, sending a pang through his chest as his heart picked up at the memory that accompanied it. Truly, he could only go a few moments without thinking of the death dealing adonis that had, very litteraly, struck him to his very heart. He needed to find the man again, to see if a second meeting would make his blood race the way the first had.

Perhaps he would even find out why he'd been attacked, but if Copper was being honest with himself, he didn't care to know. The Hunter was a mystery, and like many mysteries, he was one that could be enjoyed as is, and did not need unraveling quite yet. Still, Copper couldn't wait around for fate to bless him with a second chance meeting. He needed to find The Hunter on his own, and that meant doing a little investigating.

The moment Copper had had time to rest he laid in his bed and let his consciousness drift to the aspect that could interact with the grand tapestry. The Hunter had not hesitated for even a moment, had not flinched at spilling blood, and so there was no denying that he was experienced. That, perhaps, killing was something that either came easy to him or that he was very well practiced in the art of it.

The hunter was young, maybe mid twenties to early thirties, which narrowed his search, and the location narrowed it further. That valley was a hard month long trek through ice capped mountains from the next nearest settlement. The Hunter probably lived and prowled within its confines.

Copper focused on the last ten years worth of threads from that area that ended in white knots, the tragic, violent deaths. This would be where he found what he would need.

Going by date he gently tugged the ends through the weave so that he could examine them closer. He was careful to not pull anything more than an hours worth at a time, dreading upsetting the careful balance of the fabric and the places of the souls that he examined within it. It took a few tries, a few years worth of deaths until he found the first one that he could catch a glimpse of The Hunter from.

And oh how Copper dreaded what he saw. Five years before he'd met the man, an older boy, maybe sixteen with sharp, fearful and wild, onyx eyes and short, jagged ink black hair cried with blood stained hands, one still holding a blade, the same one Copper would become familiar with, it was still slick with the red of human blood as the boy stumbled back against the wall as the man he'd just killed gasped his last breath.

Copper found the conversation he'd had with that spirit, a man who'd heard screaming from within a home. He'd gone to help only to be found by the Chief's boy before he could find the source of the screams. Copper had reassured him, had praised him for his bravery, had not paid enough attention. He'd guided the kind man to his afterlife while the chief's boy who would become The Hunter silently wept beside the man's body, struggling against the tears as someone called out for him.

Tucking the tread back into place with one hand and pulling another free with the other. He grimaced when he realized it was merely a visitor's thread. Someone from Copper's own home universe who'd come into this one for one reason or another only to find their end here.

The visitor's soul had not been theirs to keep stored away amongst those of their creations and so had already been returned home. Where it would have dissipated into the background energy to eventually become the fuel for something new. No life was stored in this thread, it was merely a place holder.

Copper found more threads like that in his search, nearly twenty pale threads all from the last few years lined side by side. Tragic human deaths surrounding them but none of those human deaths involved The Hunter. That was odd, very few places in his tapestry looked so strange and knotted, and most patches that did were of wars and disasters not… whatever this was.

If he had been tangible in that moment he would've been nipping at his claws as he tried to piece together what something so strange could mean. But no answers came to him.

He found the next, and most recent, human victim of The Hunter, a man now, still too young, but undeniably a man by Copper's math, cold and stoney eyed, tangled bleached hair and a badly bruised and swelling jaw. Copper would have been surprised if The Hunter didn't have a few cracked or missing teeth from the injury, the mandible itself might be broken, a serious wound that needs setting and cleaning imeaditly. Copper's mind supplied him with the diagnosis without him meaning to think of it, so focused was he on that wrecked face and the lack of answers it presented that his mind tried to give him what few answers it could, even if those answers were worthless.

The woman The Hunter had killed had sat silent and glaring at The Hunter who silently watched her die, his blade dripping with her blood. She'd not spoken a word to Copper. Fuming as she stormed through the gate without any guidance from him.

He wished he had insisted on actually speaking to her, on finding the answers. The iron eyed Hunter was a far cry from that sobbing boy, and yet they shared a thread.

More visitors, more tragedy, and no more answers came from the grand tapestry.

He needed to return to that valley, surely if tragedy struck this often they'd welcome a healer? Even if they didn't, the Oracle made her home at the very center, and while Copper tried to avoid his sister's emissaries, The Oracle would be able to tell him what he needed if all else failed. Besides, her daughter was such a cute little thing, it would be a joy to hold a chubby baby again. Would the daughter still be a baby? maybe she was toddling about already, having her first little prophecies as she explored the world she would be entrusted to protect.

Oh Copper couldn't wait to visit.

3 notes · View notes

huihuiheart · 4 years

Text

Goretober D1: Lost Hope - Ghost!Hoseok

Gender Neutral reader

Warnings:Ghosts, murder (including children), avenging, blood, gore, death, graves?,mentions of abuse, mentions of bullying, mentions of suicide, bones.

Word Count:2,309

Even after all these years that same fateful day haunted you. The day you lost your childhood friend. Not that anyone else would believe the truth even if you knew what it was. Insisting to your parents that you wanted to come home from college for the anniversary of Hoseok’s death, despite their advice. Not that it took much to get them to cave, you were an only child and if it needed comfort during that time, they’d let you come back for ‘comfort’. Only that’s not why you wanted to come back, at least not entirely.

Two years after Hoseok’s passing his parents had stopped letting you come over and sit in the yard the two of you had spent years playing in. The yard you knew held their secret. The year he “disappeared” and the two following they had let you come over and put together your little memory of Hoseok, telling them it was all his favorite things so he’d know to come back to you three. They got anxious though, noting how all three years you’d placed your little monument of his favorite things in the exact spot where they had buried him beneath.

You knew they were afraid you would figure out their secret, little did they know you’d known from the start. You didn’t know exactly how they’d done it, you thought that perhaps even his mother had some remorse over it. It at least appeared that way from how she’d cradled his bloodied lifeless form with tears streaming down her face while carrying him outside, silently following her husband’s direction. He’d dug up a spot nearby your shared fence all while you watched in the dead of night from your bedroom window. Mrs. Jung laid out a blanket and settled Hoseok’s body onto it, carefully wrapping him like there was a chance he’d get any colder at this point before settling him into the grave her husband had dug. Unable to watch she shook her head and turned to leave the work of hiding the body to her husband. Mr. Jung obviously did not share any of his wife’s grief, practically dancing on the grave. You knew Mr.Jung had never had the same love for his son that his wife had, but you’d never known it to be as bad as what you were seeing. The man went out as the sun peeked out across the sky to get flower garden supplies to hide the fresh plot of dirt.

The next day when they’d panicked and called the police you quickly learned that it was no confession of guilt, but instead an elaborate cover-up. Your parents were too busy sympathizing for the grief-stricken parents to listen when you’d tried to explain that it was all a ruse. Your parents made sure to keep you too occupied to be able to go bother the police with your made-up stories of murder. Even taking you to a therapist who dismissed it saying it was simply a coping mechanism for losing someone without explanation, especially at a young age. So that’s how you came to the conclusion that you’d keep it to yourself, simply honoring Hoseok the only ways you could. Since the Jungs had stopped letting you come over you’d put your things together on your family's side of the shared fence. It only took a year or two for the flowers from their yard to miraculously appear on your side of the fence while immediately dying on their side. That one of very few outward signs of the more sacred secret that you held onto.

The secret that Hoseok was still very much a part of your life. The ghost of your young friend surprised and terrified you both on the first night you grieved him. Agreeing to slip out each night that week to visit his grave in secret just to see him. At only 11 you’d assumed he’d be terrified, but he’d seemed focused solely on making sure you’d be okay. Telling you how to deal with your school bullies, to stay away from certain people, and that his friend group better look out for you or he’d be sure to haunt them. And just like that, the real reason behind your little tradition to honor Hoseok’s memory was born. He didn’t often visit you throughout the year, only making the occasional exception when you’d come to his grave at night heart battered and shattered to bits and weep over it muttering nonsensical things in the midst of your pain. Unbeknownst to you keeping tabs on all those responsible to deal with accordingly.

Tonight marked the first night of your usual week with Hoseok, whom you’d not seen since the year prior. The ghost had aged along with you to appear roughly 26 at this point, yet still a child at heart. Setting up your monument like usual in preparation for him. His favorite snacks and drinks out, a few of the flowers he’d caused to grow on your side of the fence in a vase on it along with some mementos; the teddy bear he’d gifted you, the last picture you two had taken together, and the bracelet you’d strategically dug his grave up a little to get to, the one he wore to always match the half that you wore.

Diligently you waited until the first light of morning, with no sign from him.

And again the second night as well.

Even a third night this went on. Something you never would have expected from Hoseok.

Finally, on the fourth night, the night that marked the date of his death he showed himself. Popping open the snacks and snickering at the sigh you gave, focus on the grass distraught at the thought your friend might not come. Until you heard the familiar sign of his presence though.

“Hobi! Geez! You kept me waiting, you know.” You huff with a small pout only making Hoseok let out a hearty laugh now. Laying back in the air he crosses his legs as he floats slow circles around you munching on his snacks.

“Did I worry you, little one?” Hoseok raises his brow watching your reactions with a small smirk.

“A little bit, yeah. I was afraid I’d forgotten something.” You admit shoulders drooping a little.

Hoseok hums, reaching out to brush his fingers against your cheek. To anyone else, it would seem like a simple chilling breeze, but you’d come to recognize and grow fond of the sensation that let you know he wanted to comfort you.

“You didn't, you've done perfectly little one. As always. I was just lost in thought. Planning really.” Hoseok shared and it causes your brows to furrow.

“Planning what?”

“Nothing that should be of any concern to you little one. It’s a mess you don’t need to be any part of.” Hoseok waves off your question, resuming laying on his back again.

“If it’s a concern of yours then it’s a concern of mine too, and you can’t even say anything about that considering you know I get that from you.” You stubbornly insist and the chuckle he gives at your response isn’t as light-hearted as his earlier laugh letting you know whatever was on the mind of the sunshiny ghost boy was rather serious.

“My time here is coming to an end little one.” Hoseok sighs, finding your eyes with a gentle gaze, “There’s something I must do, and then I have to go away.”

“For good?” Your eyes widen, becoming glassy at the thought of actually losing him this time as he nods.

“For good little one.”

“Can’t you just not do whatever it is and stay longer. I-I don’t want to...I-I can’t lose you. N-Not for good.” Your words whimper past your lips, almost pathetically you’re sure. Feeling the ghost wrap himself around your distraught form to bring you comfort.

“I’m afraid I can’t. I’ve been given a lot of time, but still only so much.” Hoseok’s lips leave a cold kiss on your forehead.

“Can I help you then? I want to do something for you one last time.” Your tears fall and Hoseok wishes he could wipe them away for you. Had circumstances been different he had no doubt you’d have been the one and only for him, unfortunately, fate had not been so kind.

“It won’t be pleasant and I can’t promise things will go well for you if you do help me.” Hoseok offers a warning but doesn’t deny you. That is simply enough.

“If things go poorly will you promise to take me with you? If they won’t go well I’d rather be far from here and with you than trapped here without you any longer.” You inquire almost begging they’d go poorly knowing that no matter what you’d much rather be with him.

“You still have a life ah-” Your hand-raising stops Hoseok’s counterargument.

“You’re the only real life I’ve had in this world. I’d be far too miserable without you.” You speak honestly knowing that either way Hoseok would be able to tell. “And if you won’t take me with you, then I’ll find a way to go with myself.”

“Very well. The first thing we need to do is call my parents.” Hoseok tells you, getting right into the plan.

With furrowed brows you pull out your phone and find their home number, dialing it. Following his instructions to put the phone on speaker and hold it put to him. Surprised at his parent's answer, he chuckles.

“I wonder why you two don’t sound so distraught considering what today is. Or have you both forgotten about me that easily?” Hoseok nonchalantly asks, his mother sputtering on the other line. His father had the same attitude that night 15 years ago, however, simply scoffing.

“Is that you boy? Why don’t you haul your scared ass back here? See what I’ll do to make you run off just like always.” Mr. Jung threatens over the phone, making you pale. You’d always had your assumptions, but you’d never had proof of what he’d done until now.

“You know if you both had been remorseful I would have shown you some mercy, but it’s too late for that.” Hoseok sighs before having you hang up the phone.

“What now?” You blink at him as he shakes his head a little.

“Now you should stay away, I’m going to repay them for what they did to me.” He tells you and from the look in his eyes, you don’t need him to explain further.

“I told you we’re in this together. If you’re going to do that then I’m going to help. Just tell me what to do.” You insist, standing to follow him into his yard and to the back door. Where he easily slips through and silently unlocks it for you.

“Leave my father to me. Mother should be easy enough for you to handle.” Hoseok slips into the kitchen and opens a drawer picking out whichever knife he deems perfect for you to use. Grabbing one for himself.

“W-What should I do?” You question, voice slightly squeaky as it shakes a little. You knew you wanted to bring him justice like this, but you still weren’t certain of your actions.

“Just go for the throat or heart, make it quick. Mother always seems to regret her actions after the fact, so I’ll give her that much.” Hoseok’s words alert you to just how thoroughly he’d thought this out, “After you handle that go out back and dig up my grave. I want everyone to know what they did. I don’t want anyone to remember them as the good people they pretended to be all the time.”

You two stumbled across his mother first. The woman fainted at the sight of the ghost. Hoseok leaves you to handle her while searching for his father. In some ways the woman fainting was ideal. It meant she wouldn’t scream or struggle, wouldn’t plead and beg for her life. However, this is when she looked the most peaceful and harmless. Yet thinking back that hadn’t stopped them from doing what they had to Hoseok while he slept. Firmly gripping the knife over your head you swiftly brought it down to her chest, pulling it away dripping in her blood until it fell from your shaky grasp as you stood again. Blood splattering further across the floor at the knife clattered to the ground near your feet.

It took you a moment to gather yourself enough to remember what Hoseok had instructed you to do next. You felt queasy and weak as you moved towards the back, grabbing a shovel to carefully dig up all that was left of Hoseok’s physical body. Simply bones wrapped in scraps of the blanket, carefully laying everything out next to where the grave was.

Trying to slip back inside to find Hoseok, he stops you. Not before you catch a glimpse of his destruction though. Red splattered everywhere. Writing on the wall, descriptions of the true people his parents had always been inside. Something he wanted to shield you from even after you’d just murdered someone for him.

“Come. It’s time to either say goodbye or for you to come with me.” Hoseok simply informs you, making his way over to where you’d laid out his bones.

“I can’t say goodbye. Not again.”You shake your head, following behind and following his guidance to lay down on the grass. The ghost of your friend kneeling beside you and gently stroking over your cheek with a small smile. He kisses your forehead before his touch is over your eyes, urging them closed. Suddenly they’re growing heavy and you’re feeling yourself falling off into a slumber.

“Sleep little one. When you wake we’ll be together somewhere much safer......forever.”

#goretober #bts one shot #bts hoseok

10 notes · View notes

redrobin-detective · 5 years

Note

*sees your posts on Zukka* You. Keep talking. (Listen I love this a lot)

Listen, the Sokka/Zuko friendship was always one of my favorite platonic relationships in the series but in my latest dip into atla, my brain suddenly decided to focus on Zukka.

The boys start out shy, neither really willing to admit that they may be feeling that sort of thing for another boy, for a friend, for a former enemy. But as time passes and reality that they may very well die fighting the Fire Lord closes in on them, they decide to take the risk and take the plunge. Their love is subtle, it’s found in extended sword practices that end with gentle touches to bruised skin, its seen when Sokka grabs Zuko’s hand to show him something and “forgets” to let go, its that comfortable, slightly dreamy eyed look Zuko gets when Sokka begins going into one of his crazy plans. Despite the threat of looming death over them, they feel happy and content in each others company.

But then Sozins Comet blazes, Fire Lord Ozai falls and Fire Lord Zuko rises. Suddenly they’re not two dumb runaway teen boys in the woods where no one else can see them, now they’re leaders and war heroes standing there on the world’s stage. Now the gentle relationship, one that’s just getting onto its feet, is no longer a source of comfort but of stress and anxiety. Zuko only wants what’s best for his Nation and falling in love with a Water Tribe Chief’s son is not what was needed for stability in a wartorn nation. Sokka feels strangled by Zuko’s new position (a painful reminder of Yue’s own entrapment prior to her death) not to mention his terror when he realizes just how many people want to new Fire Lord dead.

They bicker back and forth about what to do. Sokka, for once, is the emotional one. He loves Zuko and he won’t let war or peace or anything in-between keep them apart. “I’ll just move to the Fire Nation and be your Fire Lady” Sokka says flippantly but his eyes are dead serious. Zuko is torn apart because the idea of waking up every day to Sokka sleeping next to him tangled in silken red sheets is as close to heaven as he can imagine. But the Fire Nation needs to be united now more than ever, he needs a noble woman by his side and legitimate heirs to secure his position. As much as his heart wants to be with Sokka, he knows it cannot be. “Maybe if it were a hundred years ago, or a hundred years from now,” Zuko responds exhausted from carrying the weight of disappointment in his heart. “But things are delicate right now, we can’t start another war.”

They go back and forth for months, Sokka slaves over a betrothal necklace made of volcanic glass and offers it to Zuko on bended knee. With all the willpower of someone who is all too used to self-inflicted suffering, Zuko turns down the offer but keeps the necklace. He stores it in the locked drawer by his desk and pulls it out during moments when he can’t help but ask ‘what if’. Eventually it comes to a head, both men sit down and take each others hands and discuss their future.

“I know you want this now but imagine in 2, 5, 10 years,” Zuko pleads, stroking his thumb across Sokka’s tanned hands. “You’ll see the Fire Nation as it is, with all the warts that have grown in the past 100 years without the fond tolerance of someone who grew up there. You’d remember that we are the people who killed your mother, tried to kill your entire culture. One day, you’ll look at me and remember that I am one of them and suddenly find yourself trapped in a country you hate but promised to serve and all because of me. I can’t let you do that, to yourself or to my people.” It’s a heartbreaking but eye-opening conversation. Zuko cannot leave his position and Sokka would be miserable as a Lord in the Fire Nation. They hold each other one last night, their last kiss long and meaningful to imprint the taste of each other on their lips and then pull back for the final time.

Zuko marries first, a woman he really likes and can help solidify his nation. Sokka is there the whole time, sad but also weirdly happy at the dopey loving look on Zuko’s face that used to be only for him. He thinks its called healing. They imagined the break-up being so much worse but they simply shifted back to their sword fighting without kisses afterward and gentle teasing though not draped across one another. Suddenly it was less of a burden to be together, no more worrying about being caught doing something compromising or the fate of their future. They were free to be Zuko and Sokka again, people who really, really enjoyed the others company.

They remain the best of friends for the rest of their days. Sure they look at each sometimes with more heart than they need to and sometimes Chief Sokka will still reach for Fire Lord Zuko’s hand and “forget” to let it go for an extra few seconds, as if his muscle memory still thought they were dirty kids in a dirty war. Their wives and friends will exchange fond looks when these slip-ups happen, love that strong never quite goes away, simply finds new ways to blossom. So maybe the servants are extra attentive to the Southern Water Chief when he visits and former Chief Hakoda slaps the Fire Lord warmly on the back as he would his own son.

Zuko is there the day Sokka dies, young and far too soon. The Lord of Fire cries as he hadn’t since his Uncle had passed not too long before. He tries not to cry too often, not just for appearances but because the tears that run from his burnt eye sear and sting with unimaginable pain. But that pain seems paltry compared to the beating ache of his heart as his best friend and one of the loves of his life lays dying.

“I thought you bent fire not water,” Sokka quips, still following their usual script even at the end. He suddenly breaks pretense and holds Zuko’s pale hand to his cheek, leaning in to kiss the worn and wrinkled palm. Its a ghost of what could have been and even decades later both men still wondered what would have happened if Zuko had chosen to wear that necklace instead of hiding it away in a drawer. “Thank you for letting me love you.”

“I’m sorry I turned you down, I wanted it so badly, back then you were all I ever wanted-” Zuko says through shaking sobbing tears, all breath control, and control in general, lost in the face of the inevitable.

“You walrus-seal brain,” Sokka smirks, “I loved you when we were friends, when we were lovers, when we were fellow rulers, when we were husbands and fathers; I love you now when you’re gross and dripping snot everywhere. We didn’t lose anything Zuko, we still had each other and we were still happy. Not a bad way to live a life.”

“No, I guess not,” Zuko responds, leaning down to brush his lips against Sokka’s forehead. He no longer had claim to the other man’s lips but it felt less like a tragedy compared to the decades they’d had side by side as friends. One form of love wasn’t superior to another, it just meant you got to be with someone in a whole new way. “I’ll send your wife and daughters in. Goodbye my love, say hi to Aang and Uncle for me.”

He spent that night huddled beside Suki, Katara and Toph as another of their own left them. He grieved the loss of large hands grabbing his arm, the clang of clashing swords, that sarcastic southern drawl Sokka never quite grew out of. But he did not lament the past. They had, in the end, made the best choice for themselves and their respective countries. When they’d been young, love had been about giggling kisses and wandering hands but love, real love, was not defined by its physicality. It grew when two souls drifted together and in the space between them built a home. And so long as he breathed, that home he’d made in his heart between himself and Sokka would always be lit and warm.

#Zukka #holee fuckballs #what just came out of my keyboard #it started out as a 'hey I've been thinking on Zukka' and turned into a mini fic almost?#I end a lot of fics with zuko crying over dying loved ones #anyway but zukka is great they are ultimately star crossed lovers #zuko cant live at the south pole and sokka would be so miserable devoting himself entirely to the FN (why i dislike zutara)#so they go of physical love and go back to ultra best friend love and its JUST AS STRONG AND MEANINGFUL #listen I know LaLa Land had its problems #but the message of 'not all breakups are tragic sometimes you need to let people go to live your best life' is great #thats what i envision for Zukka #they cant be together together #but they can sword fight and talk about life and have swearing contests and be dumb boys together and thats just as good #as long as they can be together #fuck fuck fuck im really emoitonal fucking chrsit

153 notes · View notes

uncle1milty · 4 years

Text

Being conscious

Illusion

Mystics talk at length about the illusory nature of this world and our existence in it. They use a variety of graphic words to describe it: dream, falsehood, shadow, sham, illusion, unreality, mirage. What do they mean when they describe our life and our world this way? Isn’t my body real? My house? My wife and children? Mountains and oceans?

Let’s look at the many ways in which the mystics tell us that everything we see, touch, and value so highly is, from their perspective, illusory.

The world is illusory because it’s impermanent

Someone once asked Hazur Maharaj Charan Singh:

Q: We are told that this whole business is a dream. Would you comment on that; what you mean by that? Master: Well, it is a dream in the sense that there’s no reality in this body – and so the dream consists of 50, 60, 70, 80 years. Where are our forefathers, where are they now? Haven’t they quit the stage? It was just like a dream; they came and went away. They don’t exist anymore; they don’t exist permanently. Anything which doesn’t exist permanently is just like a dream.1

That was always Hazur’s primary way of defining what made this body and our existence like a dream – that it was impermanent. He would say that, in contrast, reality or truth was permanent and unchanging. So this world and our life in it were obviously not real, because they’re so short-lived and changeable.

He continued:

Our past relationships, the role which we played in the last life as a husband, as a wife, as a child, as a friend, isn’t that a dream to us? Where are they? We’ve forgotten everyone. It was just like a dream. So this will also become a dream after we leave this body. There’s no reality. Saints say there’s no reality to that which you are attaching so much importance. A real thing always exists – it doesn’t perish, it is stable.

Then he said: “We’re all in a dreamland. We have to be awakened from this dream and find the reality, and when you are with the reality then you will know that you have got to get up from this dream – not before that.”

What does he mean by “when you are with the reality”? Perhaps he means in the Master’s presence, where the influence of the Guru changes our perception enough so that we can see this world more clearly? Or when we are able, in our meditation, to bring the attention higher and begin to escape from the world of duality? He says we only really understand that we have to awaken from the dream when we’ve at least temporarily escaped its influence.

Finally he concluded: “Mystics want to explain to us not to give so much importance to all these things because they’re not going to last. They’re going to leave you.”

The ego’s belief in its separate existence is an illusion Another key source of the illusion we live in is the essential error in how we see ourselves. At the deepest level, each of us thinks, “I am me and I am separate from everyone else and separate from God.” That is the ego speaking, a part of our mind that is responsible for creating an imaginary barrier between our soul and the Father.

Guru Nanak Sahib describes, from a very high perspective – one that is outside time and above this physical plane – how we cycle through life after life, caught in the delusion created by the ego. That delusion or illusion, though not real, still has the effect of binding us to this world. He said:

Each one from ego takes his birth, And clad in ego dies; And comes and goes, Gives and receives, and earns and spends, And deals in lies or speaks the truth, In ego all the while. 2

“In ego all the while”: Everything, everything we do, he says, is tainted by ego, that sense of being a separate self. But despite this powerful illusion and its repercussions, “we are in fact not separate from the Lord and never have been. But our mind and ego convince us that we are, and we have to escape that illusion before we can surrender our being into His.” 3

Maya draws its power from our unfulfilled longing for the Lord

For reasons we cannot understand, the Lord sent us out from his kingdom ages ago, into this strange existence we find ourselves in. We were given bodies and minds, and the ego developed. But underneath all those coverings, we have always carried deeply embedded memories of him. The mystics tell us that every desire, every need we feel is an expression of our native hunger for God, that yearning to end our separation and return to him. But our mind corrupts that pure longing and tries to satisfy it with impermanent and petty things.

Hazrat Inayat Khan says:

[A man’s] mind, his reason, always puts forward some other cause for his unhappiness rather than the real one, in order that he may be kept in illusion all his life, in order that all his life he should run after things which are not the real aim of his soul….And if the whole universe were given to him, his heart would not be satisfied, because the demand of his soul still has not been understood.3

And according to Idries Shah:

People, Rumi teaches, do not really know what they want. Their inner yearning is expressed in a hundred desires, which they think are their needs. These are not their real desires, as experience shows. For when these objectives are attained, the yearning is not stilled.4

So maya, in a sense, perverts our natural yearning for the Lord into lust, greed, gluttony and whatnot. The desires of the mind are all based on a false premise – that if we satisfy them, the craving will stop. But of course the mind is never satisfied, because it doesn’t get what it really misses. And the desires are almost irresistible. A disciple needs to beware of them his or her whole life.

The body is illusory Let’s look next at another seemingly solid pillar of reality – our body. The mystics see it as utterly ephemeral, nothing but a dream, and they encourage us to realize how short-lived it is and to prepare for its end.

The mystic-poet Eknath says, “Your body is the shadow of a cloud, the water of a mirage – passing, unreal.”5 And then:

The body goes in a moment, but we don’t believe it. A ripple on water – this is the world. A mirage of water is not water, the shadow of a cloud gives no rain. A statue of salt dissolves in water – this body is dying while you look at it, says Eknath.6

And yet we don’t believe we’re going to die. There’s a story about a minister who began a sermon on death by saying, “Everyone in this congregation is going to die.” As he scanned the audience to see the effect of his words, he noticed a man in the front with a big smile on his face. He asked the man, “Why are you smiling, given what I’ve just said?” The man replied, “I’m not from this congregation!”

We use any excuse to fool ourselves!

Saints see the entire arc of a body’s existence, from embryo to corpse, as the briefest flash. They also see the whole range of our past incarnations, all the many bodies we have inhabited. So how can they take this particular body seriously? They warn us to look higher and not get caught in the body’s dream.

Although the body is a dream, it is a magical gift Although the physical body can indeed be a trap and is an illusion, it also carries within it the secrets and power of the Shabd, the divine energy that permeates the universe, which transcends all illusion and is the ultimate truth, the ultimate reality. In a way, the body is a sort of Trojan horse. Kal, the negative power, created this creation so cunningly that every aspect of a human being is surrounded by maya, so the poor human is trapped. But the Lord hid himself within the human body in the form of Shabd, and is there to sustain the soul and, when a Master appears, awaken the soul and help it escape.

Hazur once said, “Sister, it is better to treat this whole life just as a dream and during the dream try to find out the reality which is within every one of us.”7

So during the dream, we need to discover the ultimate reality inside ourselves. The saint Bahinabai says:

Only within this dream of a body can you awaken to Truth and rest in the One.… If you walk the way of a teacher of Truth, you’ll reach the Real through the unreal.8

She’s saying that to reach the real (the Shabd, the Lord) we have to use the unreal (this body), and, of course, we have to have a Master. And the Master contains that same dichotomy – his Shabd form is real, but his physical form is unreal, is maya, as he has been saying. So again, we reach the real through the unreal.

Another mystic speaks on the enormous value of this strange lump of flesh we inhabit:

What a treasure has been placed in your hand! Unlucky souls turn this treasure to dust – this body that holds the essence of all goodness, this body that holds a library of scriptures, this body that breathes true holiness into holy places. Kanhoba says, Nothing can compare with being born human.9

So in this amazing device, this pot of filth and temple of divine love, we have to find the real while immersed in the unreal.

Are we wake or asleep? A story goes like this:

A disciple met with his Master to discuss the nature of liberation and to ask about the position adopted by those who attain it. The disciple asked: “Master, how is it possible that a liberated human being can remain at peace when faced with the tragedies suffered by humanity?” The Master said, “Imagine you are sleeping and that you dream that you are in a boat with a lot of other passengers. Suddenly the boat hits a rock and starts to sink. In your distress, you wake up. Would you go back to sleep in order to warn the other passengers that the boat is sinking?10

Now, this is not to say that masters aren’t compassionate. They are supremely tender-hearted and feel for the suffering that beings undergo in this world. But they have a higher perspective, which helps to answer the common question, “How could a loving God create a world that contains so much suffering?” They say that human beings are, in effect, dreaming their existence and their suffering. As Baba Ji has told us, only the Shabd is real; everything else is illusion.

Mystics say that the problem isn’t with the creation, but with our perception of it. Hazur once said that the creation looks perfect to the perfect one. The bottom line is that the masters are trying to wake us up from the dream so we can share their higher perception.

Science’s argument against the illusion of this physical world Let’s consider our situation from the perspective of a modern physicist. It turns out that physicists also argue that we are living in an illusion.

They say that each of us is made up of about 50 trillion cells. Each of those cells contains 20 trillion atoms. Each atom, when looked at closely, consists of a lot of sub-atomic particles, but each sub-atomic particle, if looked at closely, consists of nothing but energy. So, we are in effect, nothing but energy. What we see when we look at ourselves or at another person or object is just an energy field, an illusion of solidity that is in fact almost entirely empty space, with just a certain amount of energy creating the illusion of substance. 11

For example, if you expanded an atom to the space taken up by a football stadium, the nucleus would be the size of a marble sitting in the middle of the field, and the much smaller electrons would be whizzing around at the outer reaches of the stadium. Everything else would be just empty space. Not much there! But very convincing to our senses.

Hazur Maharaj Ji once had the following interchange with a disciple:

Q: Is this world really here or is it a dream world? Master: This world is perishable. You will not be able to stay with this world forever. This world is perishable.

Q: Does it really exist? Master: It exists in a manner of speaking. When you are in a dream, everything looks real to you. When you wake up from a dream, then only you realize that there was actually no reality at all. It was just a dream. While being in this world, we think it is absolutely real. When we leave this world, then we know it was just a dream.

Q: Are we in the world or aren’t we? Master: At this time we are dreaming! When we wake up from this dream, then we will know that this world is perishable. 12

So that’s a good transition from talking about all the different forms of illusion to asking why it matters and what we do about it.

Why do the mystics emphasize the illusory nature of this world, this body, this life? Essentially, they are trying to wake us up, to shake us out of this trance induced by maya, in which we’re completely seduced by the world – its pleasures; its promises of wealth, power, and fame; and its horrors, which fascinate us so intensely that we can’t take our eyes off them. The saints keep telling us not to get sucked into the show of this world: it’s only a very compelling reality show, but it’s not Reality. Turn your attention, they say, away from the reality show to not Reality. That’s why Baba Ji has told us to be serious about our meditation but not take life too seriously.

But we don’t want to wake up; we’re absolutely glued to the screen of life and can’t tear our attention away. And we’re so dead asleep that we don’t even realize it most of the time.

Fortunately, our master is not content to let us sleep. He will wake us up. And that’s the single most important lesson from this discussion – that we will never wake up from the dream, we will never see through these myriad layers of illusion, without the assistance of a living master, someone who is awake, someone who exists outside the fog of illusion.

In her book The Case for God, Karen Armstrong, a writer and former Roman Catholic nun, retold this famous story:

One day a Brahmin priest came across the Buddha sitting in contemplation under a tree and was astonished by his serenity, stillness, and self-discipline. “Are you a god, sir?” the priest asked. “Are you an angel … or a spirit?” No, the Buddha replied. He explained that he had simply revealed a new potential in human nature. It was possible to live in this world of conflict and pain at peace and in harmony with one’s fellow creatures. “Remember me,” the Buddha told the curious priest, “as one who is awake.” 13

So our master is constantly shaking us in various ways, to try to get us to open our eyes and wake up from this dream, this illusion. And he urges us, prods us, tries desperately to persuade us to do our meditation with all the intensity, love, and commitment that we can muster, as that’s the only path to awakening to Reality.

And what is that Reality? The Shabd or divine power or Name. The Shabd or Name is God in action, and it takes physical form as our master. The Shabd or Name is the power that will save us from this world.

As the mystic Narhari taught:

A painter strokes his brush on a wall – this is the world, nothing real here. Children build houses of sand, then knock them down and go home. Everyone does their work here – they love it as their own so they take it to be true. If you really want to achieve something real, just repeat the Name, says Narhari, and stay close to the mystics.14

Illusion - RSSB Satsangs & Essays

Mystics talk at length about the illusory nature of this world and our existence in it. They use a variety of gr...

Maharaj Charan Singh, Spiritual Perspectives, Vol. I, #39

Quoted in Divine Light, 7th ed., p.32-33

RS Greetings, Autumn 2001, p.9

Idries Shah, The Sufis, p.140

Many Voices, One Song, p.260

Ibid., p.208

Maharaj Charan Singh, Tape of 2 December, 1988, Question 10

Many Voices, One Song, p.147

Ibid., p.143

Quoted in Spiritual Link, March 2009, pp.24-25; from 101 Cuentos Clasicos de la India, comp. Ramiro Calle,

Much of this was drawn from a 2011 TED talk by Jeff Lieberman on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0--_R6xThs

Spiritual Perspectives, Vol. I, #18

Karen Armstrong, The Case for God, p.330

Many Voices, One Song, p.166

1 note · View note

sol-chorus · 5 years

Text

Breakfast

I have a lot of the dialog between Gabe and his father kicking around in my head and I just need to spill some of it out sooo here it is. Everything Count Verona says will be in ‘bold’ just to make things easier and Gabriel’s words will be ‘italicized’. Reminder the Count is NOT fit to be a parent and they have an awful relationship trigger warnings in the tags.

There was nothing to say, at least, not really so why were they sitting here in some room with large windows, pretending the world outside was not continuing on around them. Why did he come home when Gareg Mach fell? Why had he bothered? Gabriel’s stomach turned as he stared across the table at Count Ralouf Mercer Verona sat dabbing the filth from his mouth with a kerchief. As if that would ever stop all the nonsense that man spouted, he shouldn’t have come home he should not BE here. It was silent, his father contently filtered through letters he’d been receiving left and right, not just from the Kingdom anymore but from the Empire and the Alliance.

In a war time like this the small fertile valley their territory was settled in was worth a fortune, both to the Kingdom to keep it, the Alliance to use it perhaps to prevent violence from the Kingdom as the war progressed. Though most notably the Empire, if they could get their claws into this land they could starve out half of Faerghus in weeks. Which would be ideal because only half of Faerghus was still evading their capture, lands belonging to the families of people he’d once called friends years ago.

Ralouf was near giddy a smirk on his face at what Gabriel could only assume to be offers for compensation for his loyalty. The look was familiar to his son, it was the look he’d once borne reviewing and writing marriage proposals for Gabriel’s future, the look made him feel more ill. Finally Gabriel pushed his plate completely untouched away from him, one of the servants gave him a concerned look and he just shook his head. She lifted it quietly not wanting to cause a scene, knowing drawing the Count’s attention to the fact Gabriel was NOT eating would cause a scene for the whole house- again. The war was practically at their doorstep it had reached their lands and people were dying, yet, Count Verona seemed content to hold out for the best offer possible.

And here Gabriel sat, and did nothing, he sat quietly and fumed with disdain for his father and so much more than that but out of fear he did nothing. Not fear that his father would harm him, the man had become lazier the older he got and Gabriel was well, more of a handful than he intentionally put off. No, he was afraid of hearing his mother’s name from that man’s mouth again a fear so deep in him that he hardly understood it anymore. He was so FRUSTRATED with himself, he should be doing something, if his father did not accept Somme's offer soon he would be handing over their land and people under threat of violence to the first person who broke down the door.

He just couldn’t do this anymore, he had to do something, anything. So he did what he would have in a situation involving anyone BUT his father, he spoke.

“You are going to get yourself killed, and you’re going to drag everyone in the Goddess Crescent right to the Eternal Flames with you.” the man stood, he had sat too long, far too long.

“Hm, did you say something Gabriel?” the man looked up from the paper in his hand, he had heard, this was a standard evasion tactic for him to pretend as though Gabriel hadn’t spoken at all. Not today.

“You KNOW I did, so why do you even bother with that shit?!”

“That kind of language is unfitting of someone of our station Gabriel, don’t speak like a peasant.”

“Don’t speak like a- You have got to be kidding me. Just pick one, pick a side people are dying OUR people out there right now for as long as you don’t do something about it! You are the lord of this land I thought you told me it was a Lord’s responsibility to care for his people do you call this caring for them?! Watching them die while you wait for a bigger coffer to be placed in your lap?!”

“I am protecting them, if I make the wrong choice here this land and everyone in it will be crushed, I must side with the victor, it’s simply natural. I am currently using the resources offered to us to determine who that will be-”

“That’s enough of your shit! If you wanted to side with the victor you would side with the empire, they are the largest, they posses the most soldiers, resources for the Goddess’ sake they’re WINNING! If you cared at all for honor of your position you would side with the Kingdom, you would contact House Fraldarius or Gautier and offer your services but, that’s not it either. All you care about is your bottom line, it’s why you’re sitting here it’s why you had ME! All you care about is you getting the most you can out of any situation you’re not fit to be in charge of anyone you know that right?”

“Gabriel, hold your tounge the situation is far more complicated than th-”

“Is it? Then why are you even taking letters from the Alliance then, from where I’m standing they’re falling appart at the seems fromt he inside. Or maybe it’s because the Alliance ports offer connections to rare trade not avaiable anywhere else in Fodlan, and you are weighing THAT wealth against the might of the Empire and what we already posses in the Kingdom. I know you- as sick as you make me i know you I’ve lived with you for over twenty years!”

“Be SILENT Gabriel, your mother would not approve of you sitting here and causing such discord int his house at such a trying time as this.”

“Trying for WHO? You or the people outside, you or me because last time I checked you’re sitting here eating poached eggs and chuckling to yourself and people out there are FUCKING dying-”

“What did I say about speaking like a-”

“I AM A PEASANT! I am my MOTHER’S son and she was a COMMON woman from Duscur, you can take a long walk off a short pier as far as I am concerned father...and I use that word in it’s LOOSEST sense.”

“Gabriel I am not discussing this with you, sit down and eat your- where is your food? You are hardly going to live long enough to see the Verona house properly succeeded if you do not properly eat-”

“Stop pretending you care about whether i live or die for any reason other than your self interest! This isn’t about me this is about them this is about all the people outside...my friends I went to school with are fighting and dying right now and you’re looking for the highest bidder to sell the Kingdom out to! I don’t even CARE about Faerghus and I can see how appalling that is you know that right?”

The Count stood up and crossed the room he and Gabriel were nearly matched in height now and he still somehow managed to look down on the child. He was growing frustrated that Gabriel would not desist and running out of ways to argue with the boy as he saw him. He stepped forward and instinctively Gabriel took a step back and he smiled, but it was not a peaceful smile it was a twisted one, one that saw he still had power.

“You are a disappointment, and a continual exhausting waste of my energy do not think if you were not the bearer of this bloodline’s crest that I would tolerate your exhausting attitude problem. Please go back upstairs feel free to bleed yourself as if that will remove my blood form your body and waste the healers time again it was SO amusing the last time. You are all talk, yet you accuse me of being the same, you are MY son whether you care to admit it or not. Guards, escort the young lord back to his room he is clearly feeling unwell again.”

The guards looked at one another and then the Count, yet after a moment they began to step forward however the moment one reached for him Gabriel pulled away. Something had snapped, as if a decision had been made, House Verona was not known for it’s militant strength and the truth was in attending the Officer’s academy Gabriel had had more combat training than even the most elite among their ‘guard’. It was why they hesitated and why when the young man showed aggression rather than his usual passive misery and acceptance they drew back unsure how to proceed.

“I’m leaving.”

“You are what? You will do no such- eek.” Gabriel drew his rapier from his side, worn for so long now mostly for show and he pointed it to the throat of his father.

“I said I am leaving, I will cut my way out of this house if necessary but I’m not staying here i never should have come back. Someone hurt me at the academy, left me, someone I thought never would and that has made me weak and foolish no more. I won’t abandon my other friends the way that one abandoned me, I’m going to the front on Fraldarius territory, and you can’t stop me. Disinherit me if you like it will make it easier when once the other areas are the Kingdom are won and stable marching back here to remove the eyesore you’ve made yourself.”

“Listen to me you blasphemous brat-”

“No! No more, I'm done listening to you! You trapped my mother here with your money and influence you held her HOSTAGE to be your pretty little doll of a wife to put on a shelf with the poor financial state of her family. You won’t trap me here with her memory, I’ve let you do it too long, I’m going to do right about people that still at least MIGHT care about me but you, you stay here and ROT.”

The young man turned and he stared at the guards on either of his flanks blade in hand and stared a chaos in his eyes. They stepped back slowly, much to Ralouf’s LOUD objection and yet the man himself was too frightened by the wild look in the boys eyes to step forward, years of inactivity rusting whatever skill he might have once had in combat. Gabriel stepped into his room for what would be the last time until he returned with a small army to reclaim the valuable land and succeed his father through violence rather than age. His bag was packed, light, only what he needed, and a shard from his crystal violin, it had been shattered in a fight with his father shortly after returning home.

Enough was enough, he was going to be free of this burden he had so long lived with or he was going to die trying. He had no idea if he would be accepted back as a friend after vanishing back under his father’s thumb for so long, but, he was sure they wouldn’t turn down a blade no matter how it repulsed him to become exactly that which he hated so much.

#☼ A Lengthy Explanation {Drabble}#tw child abuse #tw self harm mention #{Blue Lions homies I need a Gabriel returns to the front thread k thx}

1 note · View note

unholyhelbiglinked · 5 years

Text

Dead Ivy | Chapter Four

CHECK IT OUT FROM THE START | AO3 LINK

Her skin prickled against the air that the window unit created. It fought tirelessly against the propped open front door, the porch light pouring warm light into the hallway. It reflected off the hardwood with more subtly than the shifting waves of the lake paired with a crescent moon. Beca was drunk. She let her keys fall into the dish by the door with a little clank- and she stared at them for a moment.

When she was younger, she had a curfew. It was ten o’clock on school nights and eleven on weekends. Her mother would wait up with a book in hand and the curtains drawn. She would let the night air take over the house, the screen door not doing much against the elements. Beca would still try and sneak in, even if the hinges creaked more than the wrap around porch. Then her mother died, and she didn’t have to tip-toe anymore. Just like she didn’t have to now.

“Beca? That you?”

Her father had changed out of his work clothes, though the oil was a permanent fixture under his nails. He looked tired, like the ghost of a man who had once had everything. Maybe that was the moon. Or maybe it was the fuzzy feeling that accompanied Beca, but it made her feel a deep ache. She felt bad for him. How she was the only one he had left.

“Yeah, it’s just me, dad.”

“I waited up for you… you didn’t call.”

She stared at him curiously. Even when she was a teenager, he hadn’t done that. After coming home from work he would shut himself away in his garage and work on yet another car. Her mom used to say it helped him think, but Beca always believed that it helped him be anywhere but here: Trapped in a southern domestic life with two kids and a wife that was dying.

Besides, Beca was an adult. A twenty-nine-year-old woman with a career and an apartment on the West Coast. He didn’t’ need to wait up for her, just like her roommate didn’t’ ever need to call her an Uber when she was out drinking late. She accepted both gestures as they were.

“You’ve been drinking.”

Beca breathed out heavily, she could still taste the ghost of her whiskey sour on her lips. “Yeah.”

Beca turned her attention to the staircase, putting her right foot against it. Her palm was met with the initial shock of the cold railing. She went for a second one when her father spoke. “Did you drive?”

A certain weight overturned in her stomach like she had swallowed something a little bigger than a marble. The glass was turning against her insides in a cold and unnatural way. The greasy slab of pizza that she had scarfed down after walking back into the bar was threatening to resurface. “What?”

“Did you drive home tonight?”

“No, no, I heard you.” She swallowed, dropping her hand from the railing. Her father’s face was hard, and his eyes were dark. Maybe it was because he looked so sickly, but she was sure that wasn’t it. It was anger. Seething anger that seemed to be contagious. “I took a taxi. Why would you ask me that?”

He kept his features smooth, but let out a labored sigh, finally frowning down at the hardwood floor. Beca could feel her nails digging into the railing. Whatever buzz she was carrying had tapered off. She could hear the deafening click of the hands on the clock hung beneath thoughtfully arranged family photos. Nice snapshots in time that made everything look so pristine.

“I don’t know, Bec.” He ran his hand over his freshly shaped hair. “It seems like the rational thing to ask. You’re my kid, I’m allowed to worry.”

“Not about that. You think I would get behind the wheel after that happened?” She asked, and his eyes snapped back to her with a flash of anger. They quickly softened. “I’m not some reckless teenager anymore. I’m not going to get plastered and then…”

Beca’s voice and thoughts wandered off. It wasn’t a teenager who had hit Jason, and she knew that. It was an older guy, sad and drowning his sorrows in a few whiskeys at the local bar. He taught himself how to drink and still stay within the lines. Fell asleep behind the wheel, maybe- but he had walked away with a few scratches and nothing more. Jason hadn’t walked away at all.

“You really think I would do something like that? That I would endanger not only myself but everyone else on the road because of a stupid fucking choice?”

“Someone did!” He rose his voice, dropping his hand to the side “Someone got drunk and got behind the wheel of a vehicle before smashing it into Jason’s car and I lost him. He’s gone, and he’s never coming back. Not to me, not to you, not to his ex-wife. Because he can’t. He fucking can’t.”

She swallowed thickly, fingers tightening around the banister. She stared at him for a moment and he stared right back. He looked like he had woken up in the middle of the night to grab a glass of water, but instead, he walked away with glassy eyes and a sullen face. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight, Beca.”

She forgot how painful a hangover could be. How her head would pound, and her mouth would feel deadened with a metallic edge. The AC unit continued to hum evenly and Beca let out a breathy sigh when she heard her father’s car start up in the driveway. The sun had barely begun to peak out, and part of her hated the fact that she was awake in the first place.

Beca reached blindly for the water bottle next to her bed but settled for her phone instead. She cringed away from the seemingly blinding light and pulled open her notifications. Facebook. She didn’t even know why she kept it on her phone. It was a place that linked her here.

Stacie had tagged her in a few different posts that she doesn’t remember posing for. If people in town didn’t’ know she was back before, they knew now. She was posing sloppily next to the older woman, her nose pressed against her cheek and a drunken smile on her face. Stacie captioned it: Some things never change.

But a lot had.

She continued to scroll through the notifications before clicking on her memories. She found herself doing it every morning- looking at things she had posted on this day years before. Eleven years before. There were a few posts about school, mainly how she had just gotten her license and was looking for cars. But then there was Chloe.

A picture of the two of them leaning against the tree that was in her backyard. She could see the base of the carving. The sun peaked from behind the large oak, haloing Chloe’s natural red curls. Her eyes crinkled at the sides when she smiled, and her focus was solely on Beca. It made her stomach knot up.

Beca let out a sharp huff and clicked off her phone, staring up at the ceiling instead.

Everything about this town had plunged her into a world she worked so hard to forget. But burying the bad came with dismissing the good. And Chloe was everything good. Even after eleven years, Beca felt like this woman knew more about her than anyone.

She blinked away any sleep from her eyes and peeled the duvet back, sweat already wracking her body. She remembered the first time she saw her roommate going for a jog after a long night of drinking. They both had the same amount of liquor and Beca had curled up on the end of the couch while Aubrey resounded to taking a shot of ginger-infused juice and went for a run around the block. She was fine and Beca suffered. She thought it was an LA thing, but Aubrey pointedly told her that it was a human being thing.

So, she found herself jogging. Not because she was hungover, or the vague memory of what her father had said to her last night, just in general. Because it was something to distract her from the phone she left on her nightstand, and the sudden urge she had to go into the tool shed for an ax. Getting in a few blocks seemed like an easier option than sawing down a tree the size of her house.

Beca placed her headphones accordingly and began her journey along the sidewalks in her neighborhood. This place used to feel so big to her: the classic southern ranch homes that occupied families covering their own secrets while searching for others. They would sit on the porch and sip their sweet tea and wait for someone like her to run by. Following her with their eyes, the daring looking up from their books to offer a wave in exchange.

She could feel the back of her shirt cling to her skin, the spring heat eating away at her as her feet pounded against pollen dusted sidewalks. She expertly dodged couples walking their dogs, edging to the end of the third block she covered. Beca pulled her headphones out, placing her hands behind her head as she struggled to catch her breath in the heat.

Beca turned around Montgomery street, ignoring the pounding against the inside of her wrist. She followed the beat of the song until she made a right on Hope Avenue. Then another left against main street. The small town suddenly came into view and her mind dripped with the thoughts of the last time she had jogged this far.

It was freshmen year.

Nina Blanchard had cornered her in the girl’s locker room, backed into another locker that wasn’t her own. She considered that a small mercy among miracles. Nina had hit puberty over the summer, had grown in height among other things. Beca took a few blows to the stomach and one to the face before she grabbed her bags and made a run for it.

She had sprinted across town and all the way to Hope before struggling to drag one breath into her starving lungs. She was drenched with sweat and her cheek throbbed. The door was locked when she finally made it home and Beca had sunk to her knees in the backyard next to a big oak tree. One that swayed in the wind, making its long arms tap against her windowpane during dark storms.

Beca stopped next to the flower shop on the corner: the door was propped open with a bag of mulch and Goldenrods hung under the windows. The coffee shop next store gave off the scent of pastry and Beca fought back the nausea in her stomach. She placed her hands behind her head and tried to steady her breathing.

A businessman balanced his coffee while sandwiching his phone between his shoulder and ear. Two women sat at the outside table, casting a few sparing glances to a little girl that sat on the sidewalk. Her hair was a mess of blonde curls, her head downcast as she picked evenly at the grass poking up between the sidewalks. Beca couldn’t tell over her heavy breathing, but she looked like she was crying, tears dripping from her chin.

Beca wanted to leave, to begin her long jog home, but instead, she pulled her headphones from her ears and lowered herself to the curb- not completely next to the girl, but enough for her to pick up her head and give her a strange look. They sat in silence while Beca continued to catch her breath.

“Why are you sweating so much?” The girl finally asked, voice foggy.

“I went for a run.”

“You stink.” She wrinkled her nose and looked up all at once. Beca was a bit taken aback by the sheer blueness of her eyes. She felt a pain beneath her ribs and she wasn’t sure if that was the three miles, or if it had something to do with the familiarity of them.

“Yeah well, you’re the one crying on the curb, kid.”

She frowned for a moment and Beca continued to stare before the two of them burst into laughter. This kid couldn’t’ be more than ten, maybe eleven, but she couldn’t’ tell. Either way, it pained Beca to see her eyes rimmed in red and nose on the brink of running.

“Some kids at my school… they’ve been torturing me since we could walk. Nothing really helps, you know? So I try to ignore it but sometimes it’s too much.”

Beca nodded as she understood, and for once in her life, she did.

“My mom sent me to get some things from the store, and I was going to, really, I was. But they were blocking the way and I ran in the other direction because that’s easier than getting pushed to the ground again.” She dragged her arm against the base of her nose. “So now I’m here with this stupid list I was supposed to get an hour ago.”

“Let me see that,” Beca reached out her hand and the girl apprehensively gave over the folded-up piece of paper. The handwriting was looped in a mix of cursive and print. Beca had to bite back a scoff. It was nearly unreadable, but she could make up the word eggs. “Your mom write this?”

The girl hummed and took it back. She shoved it into her jean pocket and stared forward, blinking silently at the little crosswalk that had no one begging to cross it. “Sometimes people tear you down because they have nothing better to do. It’s easier for them to fight their envy against you than to face their own. You just can’t let it bother you, kid. Once you shut all of that out, life gets a lot easier.”

She shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Is that why you’re out here running?”

Beca laughed, finally letting her heart settle “Don’t be a smartass. Don’t you have a list to get?”

#Beca Mitchell #Chloe Beale #bechloe fic rec #Bechloe #bechloe fanfiction

3 notes · View notes

renee-writer · 6 years

Text

I Would Rather Not Love Anyone.

Gotham's Writing Workshop week 32

Very angsty

Love is a trap. That was a lesson Claire Beauchamp learned early. At the tender age of five, her parents were killed. This leaves her in the care of her Uncle Lamb, who, although he does an admirable job raising her, taking her all around the world as an archaeologist, he lacked the tenderness of a mum and pa.

She thought she had found love with Frank Randall. Maybe she was just looking for a father-figure. Especially after her Uncle Lamb's passing. Maybe she was. Maybe it would have been more. But she has no time to find out, as Frank is killed within a year of the Second world war starting.

So, she is alone again. No parents. No uncle. No husband. Just her line of never-ending patients. Casualties of the war that had taken her uncle and husband. And she treats them well, with aloof confidence. But never gets close. Until...

He didn't want to be here. He needs to be home, helping his sister. Bloody hell, she needs him. Alone at Lallybroch with his wee nephew. Ian is here with him. And their parents dead. Willy dead. Willy! He still can't believe it. Willy who had always been there. His earliest memories are of Willy. His big brother, his idol. Killed a month ago in this damable war.

And now he lays in this MASH tent, with his back tore to shreads from that blasted grenade. And the docs saying he is lucky he isn't dead. But he wants to be. The heartache of his losses to much to live with.

It is the look on his face. She is drawn to him because she sees the same look in her eyes when she looks in the mirror every morning. Loss, desolation, grief, and a bone-deep loneliness. She walks over and has a seat beside him, picking up his chart to get his name.

"So Private Fraser, who was it for you?"

He looks at her, startled. And then really looks. "My big brother William, Willy. A mere month ago. And ye?"

"My husband. We were married a year before the war took him. His name was Frank."

"I am sorry Sassanech, about Frank."

"It is Claire. I am sorry Private Fraser, about Willy."

"Thank you. It is Jamie, Claire."

"Jamie." She nods and stands to check his back. "Christ lad. What hit you?"

"A grenade. If---," he stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard," if Willy, he pushed me away, ye ken. If he hadn't, I would be dead. He took the blunt of it. Twas barely enough left of him to send back to our sister, Jenny to bury." He starts to cry silently. Claire relowers the sheet and sits back beside him. She wordlessly takes his hand. She just holds it, knowing words are useless.

He sobs for ten minutes before looking at her. "Does it get better Claire? Do ye ken that there will be a time when I can think, speak of him without tears?"

"They say it will. Oh Jamie, I pray they are right."

"Me too."

She gets a wet rag and wipes his face before returning to his back. She gently cleanses it before re-bandging it.

"Jamie, I must go. Have other patients."

"Aye lass. Will ye came back after. I would love to hear your story."

"I will."

"I was but 18, you see, when Uncle Lamb passed. Had already started nursing training. He was steady, reliable, and there when I needed him most. I don't know if it was love or just easy. But, either way, we were married a month after we meet. Had a three day honeymoon." She frowns at this. Jamie can't tell if it is because she is embarrassed or just because---but surly not. He re-focuses on her.

"He was shipped out right after. We wrote all the time. But I never saw him alive again."

"So, he was killed in battle, then?"

Her laugh is unexpected and very bitter. "Battle? Yes, I guess you could say that. He was shot by one of his own man for shagging his wife. She had came to visit and well---he shoot her too but she survived."

"Randall? Your--err, was his name Randall?"

"Yes. So you have heard?"

"Aye, the story," he stops and reaches for her hand,"I am so sorry Claire."

She nods and they just sit in silence, himer hand in his.

"So, I would rather not love anyone, ever again.Love hurts."

"Aye lass, it sure can. But, can ye be my friend? I can use one. As can ye."

"Friends? Well maybe."

"I will take the maybe. Go to bed Claire. You look exhausted."

"I am. Thank you Jamie. For listening. And everything."

"Thank you for the same Claire."

Jamie is there for another month. Over that time, they do become friends. But hold anything else they feel for each other back. Both terrified of being hurt again.

"Claire. Hey Claire. Nurse Randall!" The calls finally penetrate her deep sleep.

"Huh? What is it Mary?"

"It is Private Fraser. He has a high fever and is asking for you."

"Jamie!" She is up and rushing towards him as Mary follows. "Do we know the cause of the fever?"

"No. His back is healing. As you know."

"Jamie. I am here lad. Are you in pain anywhere?" She stand by his bedside, holding his hand with the other on his forehead. His temperature is very high and she feels a shudder of fear go through her.

"Hurt all over. I think I will be reunited with Willy soon." His voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

"No! Not bloody yet! Marry fetch as much ice as you can find. You two," she points to two soldiers who serve as interns," help me get him completely undressed."

She helps them lift his burning body and take of the lose pants and socks. Mary returns and they make ice packs for his head, neck, feet, and his groun area.

"Christ Claire, are ye trying to freeze me bullocks off? I may need them again, someday." He complains as she personally places a pack over his penis.

"Trying to get your temp down lad. And I thought you said you would never fall in love?"

"Love and sex have very little in common."

"Don't I know it?" She mummors as she grabs a thermometer and places it in his mouth.

"Sorry." He tries to say.

"Mouth closed lad."

"104. Okay, where is Doctor Raymond?"

"In surgery." Mary answers as she goes to pull the sheet over him.

"No, he needs to be cooled."

"But, he is---" she gestures to his pelvic area with a blush."

"Pull the curtain around the bed and go let Doctor Raymond know we need him as soon as he is done."

"Okay."

"What is is?" A shivering Jamie asks as Claire begins to look for anywhere on his bady where infection could be starting.

"Not sure But you aren't going to die. I will not allow it." She says as she lifts his testicles to exam his upper thighs.

"Oh. Okay Sassanech." His voice is different and she looks up and sees why. His penis is growing. It happens a lot. But, his reaction causes an answering reaction deep inside her. She has to force herself to focus.

"Ah," her sudden exclamation comes when she exams his shin. Right at the underside of his knee, there is a spot of redness. It is small and with him having spend the last two months mostly laying on his stomach; it was easily overlooked.

"What is it Claire?"

"A spot of inflammation. May be the source of your fever."

"Aye, can ye get it?"

"Yes, Mary!" The young lady hurries back in and Claire throws the sheet over his erection to preserve her modesty. At least, that is what she tells herself.

"Bring me a scaple, a small basin, and a bit of alcohol." She looks to Jamie," oh, and a bit of whisky."

"Okay, this is going to hurt." She warns as she places the sterilized scaple over the red warm flesh on his shin.

"Aye Claire, I ken." He takes another slug of whisky," I am okay. Go ahead lass."

She nods, takes a deep breath and presses down. He swallows his scream. Mary blots the blood that oozes up and Claire carefully parts his flesh. She gently pulls the bit of shrapnel out and drops it into the basin.

"That will do it. There was a bit of shrapnel in your leg. It was the source of the infection. You should feel much better now."

"Thank ye Claire."

She could have told him it was her job. But they both know there is more.

"Let's get you sewed up."

Later that night.

"Almost normal. Very good." She says as she re-checks the thermometer.

"I was dying. I felt it."

"Did you? Did you want to go?" They sit alone. Everyone else is asleep and she has the curtain pulled around them.

"I felt that I would. I wanted to for so long. But lately---well lately, I feel there is something to stick around for. Someone."

"I feel the same."

"Do ye Sorcha?" He reaches up and touches her hair.

"Sorcha?" She is breathless.

"It means light and is your name in the Gailec."

"Oh, ahh-yes I do. Christ, this is so wrong. You are my patient."

"Aye, but won't always be. May I kiss you Claire?"

In answer, she lowers her head.

#my writing #jamie and claire #gotham's writing workshop #week 32 #I would rather not love anyone #angst #love lost #love found

15 notes · View notes

lapinbunwrites · 6 years

Text

Behind the Cloth

Corrin woke up, in the bed she slept on for so long, knowing it was the last time she would be here, before she left for Valla. She was both happy, and sad about it, the one place she had been trapped in, is now the place she finally got to leave. She was going to leave behind the family, but she knew that they were always there for her, regardless of how far apart they were. Corrin got out of bed, and changed her clothes. She made her way through the halls, finding a bookshelf that she hadn't seen before.

She pulled one of the books, out of the shelf, and the shelf opened to a secret room. She saw that her older brother was laying down on the bench, connected to the window, with a book on his face. Corrin giggled, as she removed the book off of his face. "Brother," she whispered into his ears. She heard a light groan coming out of his mouth, as he twisted his body off the bench.

Xander got up off the ground, and sighed. He looked at his little sister, and sighed. "Is there anything that you need?"

"Not really," Corrin replied. "My question is, what is this place? There are so many books," she said, with glee.

"Yes, I'm surprised you've never found this place. You had some leeway to leave your room."

"Ha-ha," Corrin jokingly laughed. She turned to the left and saw the drapes cover something. She became curious to see what was behind it. Corrin walked slowly towards the cloth, wanting to pull it off the wall.

Xander nervously put his hand on her shoulder. He knew what was behind those drapes, but he didn't want anyone else to know. "Please don't," he whispered. He was fighting back the pain of his memories, and the tears of what he had lost. "I beg of you," he tried to say, but never muttered out of his mouth. He watched his fall back to his side, and watched as his little sister pull of the cloth, from the wall.

Corrin looked in awe, at how beautiful the painting was. The painting consisted of a woman, with curly blonde hair, and green eyes, who was with a little boy, who had had short curly blonde hair, with the same green as the woman. The boy was sitting on his mothers' lap, reading a book with his mother. "This, this is so beautiful, and so happy." She smiled and looked back at her brother, realizing that the little boy, and Xander looked a lot a like. "They look a lot like you," she smiled.

Xander sighed, it had been a long while since had seen that painting. He didn't want to see it anymore, but at it was the only thing that he wanted see. The woman, was someone whom he hadn't seen since he was a child, was someone was important to him. "It's....It's because that little boy is me, and...the woman, she is my mother," he said, trying to fight back the tears. He meant so much to him, thinking that she would be with him, all of his life, but knowing, that she would die protecting him, trying to defend the most important person to her, that was her son.

Corrin feelings were conflicted, she didn't know how to feel, she wasn't sure if she supposed to be in shock or not. "She is very beautiful," she smiled, "what was she like? She seems amazing." She looked back at her brother, with a huge smile on her face. She was really curious, she really wanted to know what she was like, was she anything like the mothers that Camilla, Leo, and Elise had, or was she kind, caring, and loving.

Xander faintly smiled, and at her with sorrowful look. He didn't know where to start, he loved his mother with all his heart, and he knew she felt the same to him. "She was, she was my everything," he said, seeing that his sister sat down at one of the table chairs. He saw face filled with curiosity in her, he knew that she loved it when he told her stories. "Father had said that her and him have known each other since they were young. My grandmother, was the King's retainer, father quickly became friends with my mother. As they grew older, their feelings for each other deepened. Not long after they had gotten married, I was born. Growing up, the two of them gave me so much love, my mother doted over me. But alas, she couldn't spend all of her time with me, and I very well knew that. Being a queen, she still looked after her people, she did whatever she could to make sure that the Nohrian people lived happily, everyone loved her, they saw her more than a queen, but as a friend. At the time, I never understood why, I didn't see her as another person, I saw her as a mother," he rambled on.

Corrin was really happy that Xander was talking about something he loved. She didn't know that his mother meant so much to him, since he never, ever talked about her. "Oh, tell me what kind of mother she was, pleeaassee?"

Xander chuckled a little. "Fine, fine. As I have said, she doted over me, much like Camilla does to you, but to a lesser to degree. As much as she loved me, she was still strict. She still made me take my studies seriously, made sure that I did my chores, and such. Mother, she was strong, even though I was slow to learning the sword, she took her time to teach me. She joined me in my studies, making sure that I wasn't falling behind, and to teach me everything she knew. She always loved to pass her knowledge to to me, and loved to watch me grow," he paused. For a moment, he could feel a few tears roll down his face. "For a while, she became distant towards the both of us, it greatly upset the two of us, especially my father. I knew something was wrong, but I didn't find out until the moment she died," he said, doing his very best, trying not to cry. "She was keeping her distance to protect us, she died protecting me," he said, finally crying.

Corrin was shocked, she had never seen him cry before, it was disheartening. She got up out of her seat and gave him a big hug. "Shh, it's alright, it's not your fault," she consoled. She felt his arms wrap around her body, feeling his warmth, but also feeling his pain. "I can't really speak for her, but she probably doesn't want you to hate yourself for her dying, to know it wasn't your fault. She probably wants you to know, it was a great happiness to have you as her son."

After a few minutes, Xander's crying soon stopped. He sighed, wiping the tears off of his face, it had been a while since he had cried, he never wanted to show anyone that side of him. "I wish she were here," he sighed, once again, "I wonder if she would be proud of me."

Corrin giggled a little. "Of course she would! She would have been the happiest mother, to know of a man as great as you are!"

Xander smiled, knowing that she was right, his mother would be proud of him, she always was.

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

Here you go MewLil, here is a Xander and F!Corrin fic for you. I don't think anyone has any idea how much Katerina intrigues me, Ikona does too, but not the degree Katerina does. What was she like, was she a good mother to Xander (most likely), was she a doting mother, was she there for him, and stuff like that. More importantly, how Xander reacts to his mother being mentioned fuels my curiosity. Depending on the person, he gets really sad, to the point where he cries, which goes against his whole character, and is only when he talks to Camilla, or his wife about it, get really mad, probably with Garon, shrugs it off, and not ever talking about her, with everyone else. But for this instant, I wanted him to talk to about it with Corrin, but his reaction turned out differently, I wanted it to be angsty. How did that go? I hope good? Oh well. Seriously, games should not fuel my curiosity, I go everywhere with it.

#my writing #fire emblem #fire emblem fates #fire emblem if #fire emblem fanfiction #xander #corrin #don't tag as ship #1/24/17

1 note · View note

bluepenguinstories · 6 years

Text

Happiness Overload Chapter Twenty-Two

It was the in-between period. Intersection of two breaking points. Everyone has them, and I had yet to have mine. But it was my job, and on some days, my passion, to help others manage theirs.

So what was I doing in this in-between? The answer was that I drew a breath and released. Such times were the moments where I lost myself, lost everything. Aware, but absent. The previous interaction, gone. The next, not here yet. Everything was as in the current.

From the outside of my mind, a ringing in my ear; beside the chair where I sat, the table where the phone lie. That familiar tone, breaking my thoughts, digging into my skin just as my nails were.

“Vesuvius, someone is here to see you,” the receptionist's voice droned.

“Peter?” I wondered. That's who was scheduled to see me next, at least that was what my memory suggested.

“No, not Peter. Peter said he wouldn't be making it today. Don't you remember?”

“Right. Of course I do. Well, what of my next appointment?”

“Called in sick. Do you read your emails?”

I scoffed. “Do. I. Read. My. Emails? Of-fucking-course I do!” My words expressed anger, but I remained calm and my voice soothed throughout.

I checked the schedule on the computer. Indeed, I had at least a couple hours of open availability. I rubbed my forehead and felt the folds of the forming wrinkles.

Why didn't I know that already?

“Very well, Lacey,” I told the receptionist. “Let them know I'll be out.”

Out of the whole exchange, I never thought to ask who said person was. Wasn't that something you were supposed to do? Always know who was asking for you. Know who to expect. Did I have an unknown stalker?

I rubbed my forehead again. It would be better just to find out and let things run their course.

Down the halls, to my left, the door opened with a shove and before I saw who it was, I heard the humming of a familiar tune.

“If you're tired and you know it, clap your hands...” I muttered. As I did, I heard two claps and as I looked over, I saw who it was, swaying their legs back and forth.

“Blanc,” my eyes widened. “What...what a surprise. How have you been?”

“Happy!” Blanc grinned.

Not the response I was expecting. Then again, what was I expecting?

“It's so good to see you. Come on in. We can chat in my office.”

Blanc nodded and bounced off their seat. I walked back through the halls, Blanc following behind, humming tunes I didn't know of.

“You know,” I mentioned. “We have been worried sick about you.”

“Oh? Why's that?”

“I mean, we haven't heard from you in months and you just vanished. We didn't know what happened to you.”

Blanc's smile lowered to a grimace.

“I can tell you once we're in,” they chirped. If that was the right word.

Was it that serious?

We entered the room, they closed the door behind them and sat down. I took my seat across, and stared at who I was facing. There were differences, things I hadn't noticed before: longer hair, blonde streaks that offset the jet black. They wore a flannel turtleneck and gloves, probably to hide the metal arm. Or, just for the fun of it.

“So, what's been going on with you lately?” I asked, more out of curiosity, yet I found myself trapped in counseling mode and began to shake my head, wondering if I was turning this into a session. “It's been nine months since we've heard from you and here you are, showing up where I work as if it's nothing. Can you even imagine how much we've missed you?”

“Wow...nine months, huh?” Blanc smiled, consuming the words they uttered. “It's as if I've been reborn.”

“What do you mean?”

They shook their head. “I'm not really sure.”

“We all missed you. You know we care about you, right?”

“I know. I'm sorry,” Blanc spoke in earnest.

“You just left one day and none of us knew what happened to you. Do you have any idea how worried we have been?”

“You guys have been the closest thing I've had to a family. I just wasn't satisfied at the time not knowing who I was. I felt like I had to know and I didn't know how, but I felt like once I was away, I would figure things out.”

I gulped. I evaded what was gnawing at me in favor of a separate question.

“How did you get by? What about food? Shelter? Were you homeless all this time?”

“It's kind of a funny story,” Blanc gave a laugh that sounded like a cough. “I was at a park one day when I first noticed it.”

“Noticed what?”

“I was sitting under a tree, hungry as fuck. Like, I'm saying stomach growling, the whole ten yards.”

“Nine,” I corrected.

Blanc ignored my interjection. “I remember saying to myself, 'I'd sure be happy right now if I had something to eat', and just like that, an apple fell out of the tree.”

“It's funny how things work like that sometimes.”

Blanc snapped their fingers. “I thought so too! I remember taking a bite out of the apple, and thinking 'this is good and all, but I'd be happier if I had some pie' and lo and behold, someone walking by came up to me and was all 'bruh, I can't finish this pie and I don't want it to go to waste. You want it?' and of course, I was all 'fuck yeah, mate!'”

“Interesting...”

“I think I've developed super powers,” Blanc leaned over. “It's like whatever makes me happy, I can get! Y'know that whole Spider-Man quote?”

“Not really. I'd have to ask Trent or my wife about it.”

“Well, it's like, if I have this power, I can use these powers to help others!”

“Do you really believe you have these powers?”

Blanc slumped over, gave it some thought. “Hm...maybe not.”

“Even still, I'm glad you've been okay.”

“To tell you the truth,” Blanc's voice lowered from the excitement of just a second ago. “For a while, I wanted to chase this euphoria I once knew, or thought I knew. Thinking that if I found it again, all my problems would be solved. When it never came, I thought that was it, and for a while, I thought of wanting to die.”

“Do you still think that way?”

Blanc shook their head. “No, I've already died a few times, so to speak. I think I'm through dying at this point. Getting a little tired of it, y'know?”

“I see. So what do you think you'll do instead?”

“I think I came to realize that this 'euphoria' that I was seeking was with me all along and I had to figure that out for myself. Now if I could spread this happiness to others, I know I can change the world.”

“Is that what you wish to do?”

“I don't know yet,” Blanc shrugged. “But I think we'll come to a conclusion together.”

“Is that why you wished to see me today?”

“In part. Brainstorming is fun, but I could have done that with anyone. It was more that I know you.”

“So why not go to Trent, or my wife?”

Blanc shook their head.

“Is something wrong?” I asked.

“No, something is very right, and I'm glad I ended up where I did.”

I don't know why, but hearing that brought down a jolting sweat in me.

“Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course!”

“When did you first come to this realization? Did something happen that you think could have triggered these 'powers' of yours?”

“Yes. It's what I came here to tell you, actually.”

“What is it?”

“I remember.”

There it was. I hoped that I didn't let my shock show through, and marched on, stone faced.

“What do you remember?”

“Things here and there. Who I was before. How I ended up here.”

I drew out a slow breath. My apprehension was lifted. “Maybe we can be re-introduced, then. Could you tell me a little about yourself?”

“Well, it's kind of a long story...”

I let out a laugh. “I've heard that one before. Luckily for you, I have time.

“I know.”

It took me a second before I registered what Blanc said.

“Well, for starters, it's funny how you guys got it right. My name has been Blanc Slait from the beginning. It's a silly name and I've thought of changing it. It's not really far off from the name I was given at birth. But I figure at this point, you guys re-named me it, and just got really damn lucky, so I'm keeping it to honor you guys.”

“That sure is something. If you were to change your name, what would you go with?”

“Now that!” Blanc pointed upward. “Is brilliant! I haven't given that much thought. Maybe Oreo, or Snickers.”

“Candies?”

Blanc shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

“If you feel comfortable, that's what matters.”

“Yeah, for sure! As long as I'm happy. They do sound kinda like something I would name a cat, though if I wanted to, I could be my own pet.”

We both shared a laugh. I drew another breath.

“That's not all I remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't just remember times before. I remember parts of me that I never got to experience. Memories that I couldn't have had, but they're surely mine.”

“Such as?”

“It's hard to explain, but I remember what you did to me.”

There it was, the shattering.

“I remember how when I was recovering at your apartment, you would visit me every night and poison me. I couldn't have remembered that. I was asleep. You were keeping me from remembering. Yet I was finally able to remember once I left. I don't even know how you managed that, but I know it happened.

I looked down. For the first time in a while, I felt like I was going to be the one to shed some tears.

“I'm sorry. You must think of me as cruel, even wicked. I just want you to know that I meant well.”

“It's all right!” Blanc grinned. “I harbor no ill will toward you, or anyone.”

“Just so you know, neither Trent nor my wife know what I did. They wanted you to get better. So did I. But I wanted you to forget, start a new life. That's all.”

“I understand. Congrats on the marriage, by the way. Sorry I didn't attend.”

“Thank you.”

I tried to loosen up, but there was now a tightness to everything.

“There is just one thing I need to ask of you,” Blanc added. “I want the time cube back.”

“So that's what that is...”

“I know you took it from me. You said you wanted me to start a new life. And maybe I will. Maybe I already have. But I still want it back.”

“Why do you want it? What is it?”

“I think you already know. Otherwise you wouldn't have taken it.”

“Let me guess: some sort of time traveling device?” I joked.

“I guess you could call me a time traveler, then? I don't know, I've never done the sort of thing before. It was a life or death situation. Hence why it seemed like I just fell from the sky. I needed to get away, wherever it happened to be. I'm just glad I ended up here.”

“Like an angel falling from heaven...” I caught myself muttering.

“What?” Blanc stared at me.

“I don't really know. But you're right. I knew what you held was a device used for time travel. I have also dabbled, though with a different device. My father was an inventor, he once left, without a trace, leaving his device behind. I tried using it to search for him, but to no avail. I ended up meeting Trent and Juniper sometime in my search, and after having meeting them, I went back to searching for a little while, but I never found him. After a while, I gave up and settled down, living with those two, and I ended up leaving my former life behind, developing a bond with them and creating a new life for myself.”

“I never knew all that.”

“It's okay. This isn't about me. I just wanted to let you know that I could relate to your situation in some capacity.”

“Even still, I need it. I don't want to give up. I left some things unfinished. There are some bad people out there and --”

“Don't bother.” I found myself saying, as cold and lifeless as it may have come out, I felt it had to be said.

“I'm sorry. This isn't something I can brush off. I thought I could take a break for a while and come back when I was ready, but that's the thing: my problems didn't go away.”

“Some things you can't finish. Some problems you can't solve. All of that is in the past. You can start new things, finish new things. Allow yourself to enjoy this new life you have.” I wasn't sure if I was saying this to Blanc or giving myself a reminder.

“I once met these folks who told me that the past is all we have because the present is always fleeting and the future is just what hasn't become the past yet. But the past is forever.”

“That sounds like a depressive thought pattern. If you want to know what I think, I think the present is all we have. We don't know about the future, and we cannot change what happened in the past. It's important to take in the present for all it is; the good, the bad, everything outside and in between. Allow yourself to acknowledge it all.”

There. That should have reached Blanc. I could go back to my day and not worry about such silly talks of time travel or danger. At least, that was my hope. There was still something, something I couldn't place, gnawing at me, but I felt the source coming from across the room.

“Maybe, but I think they have a point. I think you do, too. The past really is forever, we can't change it.”

So why go on with this talk of time travel?

“But,” Blanc continued. “We can create a new past, a new present, and a new future. We can create something new that's better than how things were and how things will be.”

“I've tried!” Those two words escaped and as much as I grit my teeth, they had already been released into the air, out of my control.

Blanc nodded a slow nod, something I didn't understand. I did my best to regain composure, but I was afraid that the damage was already done.

“I know my future; I've tried to change it time and time again.”

“I know your future, too,” Blanc told me. “And that's why I came here. So we can change it together.”

“Oh?” I managed to chuckle a little. “What would you know of my future? First you call yourself a time traveler, now a fortune teller?”

Blanc shook their head. “It's because I've lived your future. I've met you before, though you were different, then.”

“Different how?” I leaned forward.

“Well, first of all, your hair wasn't blonde. Second, you were more of a hologram than human. Oh, and your name wasn't Vesuvius.”

I froze, but then couldn't help but close my eyes and smile.

“Oh? And what was it?” I was close to asking what will it be? But if we were discussing changing the future...no. I had to shake that off as well. I knew better.

“Etna.”

That word echoed. It was getting to be too much. I could sense steam rising throughout the room, but I knew the temperature hadn't changed.

“Ah,” I drew a deep breath, then released. “I've forgotten all about that name. Abandoned it when I came here. Felt I needed a new start, you see. Got myself a degree, told everyone my name was Vesuvius Marlboro and not Etna Modelo, even managed to forge a birth certificate and identification.” I needed to stop myself. I knew I needed to. I didn't have an explanation for my unraveling in front of a complete stranger.

A complete stranger that has lived with you for months. A complete stranger who you took in and manipulated for fear that you would be exposed. Well, here you are: exposed. Because that's what you are. Therapist? Forged. Horticulture? Just quick glances at books. Guesses and conjecture. 'Fake it 'til you make it', right? Well for a while, I sure made it, and now this...thing that I took in is threatening all of it.

“That's right, I'm a fraud,” I couldn't help but smile, even though I wanted to scream.

“Modelo?” Blanc tilted their head. “I thought it was Montclair.”

I couldn't help but do the same. We exchanged puzzled looks as if we were looking in a mirror, except neither of us looked alike. Unless the blonde streaks were some way of mocking me, which at this point, I didn't even doubt.

“Oh, right!” Blanc snapped their fingers. “I forgot, those memories were fake!”

“I'm not really following, I'm afraid.”

“It's okay. It was a different future. All of that's behind me now.”

“Is it? Wouldn't it be ahead of you?”

“Not if we change it! That's what I'm saying!”

“Look,” I was really feeling the claws dig in now. “When I watched as the Vietnam war happened, when the government forced soldiers to in equal measures massacre, and get massacred, I thought that if enough people got together and protested, the government would listen and stop. But instead they would turn against protesters and slaughter their own. Campuses, the streets. I thought by going into the future, leaving behind my girlfriend at the time, that I would see things change, and how never again would these things occur. I was wrong. This world is already authoritarian and ruled by a powerful few. Whether it be influence, money, military, technology, or a combination of all four, they have much more than the average person has.”

Blanc gulped. I would have been lying if I said I didn't relish in this.

“The masses mean nothing. Do you know what happened if you tried going against these powers? You'll get killed. You mean nothing to them. I knew this and I wanted to protect you.”

“I appreciate that, but I wouldn't feel right if I didn't do anything.”

“Just do something small in your community. Brighten someone's day. You can't change the world, but you can change someone's world.”

“Like yours?”

Flashes and jolts struck the mountaintop. Pieces of earth crumbled and rolled from the peak. There would be nowhere to take cover from.

“You said you knew my future?” I cleared my throat. “Well, so do I. I received an email a while back from a private address telling me that they intend to kidnap my wife and I and extract our thoughts and personalities to better their AI they were developing. It all sounded so silly, so crazy. But that's the thing: I knew it wasn't.”

“How?”

“I thought they were visions, or dreams, but there were a few times where I wound find myself transported to this place and these two men would greet me. They would tell me their progress on this project they were working on and how it would change the world for the better. They told me they were starting a new department, and I would be appointed the head of it, but not in my current form. I didn't know why they wanted me, but I knew all of what I experienced was real. I knew how they wished to harvest me, to control me. I felt the cold metal of the walls, the terror of their machines, the sounds. None of it could be so easily replicated.”

“You were there?”

“Oh yes,” I nodded. I shouldn't have admitted any of this. All of it came out. It was like Blanc was stealing my secrets from me and all the words overflowed. “I also know I would be powerless to stop them once they're all ready. I have my own device to travel through time, but so do they. I know it's real as well, because I've seen their device and I know that the device you stole from the organization you fled is the same organization that will decide my future.”

“It doesn't have to decide your future, though!” Blanc spoke as if they were buying a lottery ticket and thinking there was a chance of hitting the jackpot.

“There is no way around it. I've made peace with my life. I'm just going to enjoy my life with Juniper while I can.”

“But what if you can live out your life with her...for the rest of your life? What makes you think you don't deserve to be happy?”

Am I the one getting a therapy session here?

I had to blink. Make sure I was where I thought I was.

“It's not about what I do and don't deserve. I think the goal is to be content, regardless of the outcome.”

“But what if you could be more than content? I think you deserve to live your life as a human, living the kind of life you want to live. More than that, I think it's possible. More than possible, even. That's why I came to you today. I want to help you.”

I noticed Blanc sipping on a mug. I noticed the label of an herbal tea packet on the table next to them and steam rising from the mug. Just as there was steam around me.

“Where did you get that?” I asked. I took my glasses off and rubbed my eyes.

“You offered it to me. Don't you remember?”

I remembered no such thing. Maybe it was just a lapse in memory. Maybe after a while of the same procedures, some things just ended up getting blocked out.

I shook my head.

“Anyway, you said you wanted to help me? Really? What could you possibly do?”

Blanc grinned a toothy grin. I noticed much whiter teeth than I've ever seen from them before. It felt off. The whole room, the whole situation, the whole day...everything was off. Something told me this feeling was not about to let up.

Blanc snapped their fingers.

“It's simple: we save the lesbians, we save the world!”

“...What?”

“I say we go to their base right now. Let's not bring Juniper along! Let's destroy all their equipment and foil their plans!”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Yes! A little! But with my superpowers and our time traveling devices, I say it's worth a shot! If we were just anyone, sure, we could just sit idly by as everything seems futile, but we're not just anyone! I'm Oreo and you're Edna Mode.”

“I'm...who?”

“I don't know! I think I saw that name somewhere!”

“I think I'd rather just be me...”

Blanc grabbed my hand.

“Come on, enough with this therapy! Let's go improve some lives!”

There was a flush that ran through me. Something unnatural.

“Don't I get a say in this?” I blurted, but I knew better. “Never mind, let's go,” I found myself saying after. I wanted this. I knew I wanted it. My agency.

I felt no transition. We were in my office, we ran out the door, and then...

The cold, murky steel. Exposed wiring and halls that branched out into endless corridors and endless arrays of doors. Crisp, manufactured air, both stuff and making it all too easy to breathe in. Equal parts office building and laboratory.

“I know where we are...” I murmured, then turned to Blanc. “How did we get here?”

Blanc, still grinning, replied. “You gave me back my time cube, remember?”

“No. I didn't. It wasn't with me. I don't think I could have...”

“I'm so happy! I know we can do it!”

I tore myself from Blanc's grip. There was no sting, no pain. But I felt like molten lava.

“We should go. I don't know what we're doing here.”

“I do! All we have to do is go to the lab where the AI is being built by Dr. Laharl and Dr. Vyers! I don't even know if they're real people, but I know the room is real! It's where you shot me!”

It baffled me how someone could talk about being shot and speak with such glee. Before I had time to ponder any of that, Blanc skipped down the halls.

“I'm sure we'll find it in no time at all!” They sang and chanted, disregarding all need for secrecy. All I could do was chase after the fool.

“Stop! You'll get us both killed!” I was in no shape to run, yet I did anyway, the heels of my shoes clanging against the floors. It made too much noise. Every movement was too much. It. Was. All. Just. Too. Much.

Before I could stop to take a breath, the sound of more heels against the floor resounded; rows and rows of footprints. Running soldiers with their guns to each side of us. Blanc stopped dead in their tracks and looked around.

“Stop!” The soldiers yelled. “This area is restricted!”

All of them drew their weapons. I knew they were about to open fire. Maybe being killed would be better than being taken away by some company to be experimented on, but I just didn't know. All the while, Blanc continued to grin.

“It's okay! I think we just need to celebrate getting here!” Blanc cheered.

I closed my eyes.

I heard the deafening cry of the bullets ring, but after a moment, I was still breathing. I opened my eyes to see red balloons where the soldiers were.

“I was thinking balloons would make us happier! The soldiers must have ran away!”

My breath was growing shorter. My heart, my lungs, I wasn't sure which was working harder.

“Oh? Were you expecting something violent to go down?” Blanc asked, before snapping their fingers, and all the balloons popped, blood erupting from each of them, spraying all of the walls. I jumped, the images burned into my eyes. Blanc just laughed.

“Too violent?” Blanc looked displeased.

I blinked, the surrounding area was filled with confetti. I must have imagined the blood the whole time. Maybe I imagined the soldiers showing up. There were no weapons to be seen, either. I couldn't remember the last time my imagination had run so wild.

Yes. That's it. You're freaking out. Seeing things. You're back in your office. You're safe. Everyone is safe.

“Come on!” Blanc motioned. “We're almost there!”

I shook my head, but followed anyway.

We passed through all sorts of doors that I could see through. Although the surrounding walls were a murky shade of blue and brown, the insides of the doors seemed littered with stuffed animals and pink walls. I wasn't sure what those rooms were meant for, if anything. Certainly not what I would have associated with an all powerful organization.

Finally, Blanc ran through these double doors and I went in after. The room itself was huge; rows and rows of computers and a master computer system with a large monitor. Wires and engines humming all around. Blanc, however, spared no time to marvel, and ran further in. I strode through, not allowing myself to run.

When I finally reached the end of the lab, there was little to see aside from what looked like an MRI scanner, a table filled with medical equipment, including IV tubes, and two sets of doors at the other end, both sets of doors reminding me of elevator doors, for whatever reason.

“This is it! This is all where it's supposed to happen!”

“What next?” I asked. I knew we shouldn't have been here. I knew something was wrong ever since Blanc showed up, but I didn't know how to stop things from progressing.

“I agree,” a voice of a middle-aged man piped up, his voice that of a Scottish man imitating an American accent. “You know you shouldn't be here.” I recognized the voice right away as one of the men I had seen before when I was taken here.

I saw as he walked forward, a short man wearing a black coat. His hair braided into a pony tail, though I could have seen the receding of his hairline from a mile away. He wore a monocole as if to make himself seem more important, but all I saw was some goofy looking man, prime for ridicule.

“Ah, Etna. It's been a while. We haven't needed you yet, but I'm glad to see you again.”

I shivered, and backed away, toward Blanc.

“Hey, it’s you! Dr. Vyers! You really do exist!” Blanc seemed so giddy.

The man known as Dr. Vyers peered at Blanc while fiddling with his monocle.

“As for you...I don't know who you are, but if I go back in time by just a little bit, we can make sure you never show up here again...”

Blanc wasn't wavered by this threat.

“I'd be happier if you just disappeared instead!” Blanc smiled wide.

I didn't even have to blink this time. Dr. Vyers vanished. I turned to face Blanc, who turned to me, stilted movements, but grinning all the same.

“Isn't this great? I'm so happy! I think I finally realized what it is!”

Blanc placed their hands on my shoulders.

“Euphoria has been with me this whole time! I can feel it! I know everything will be okay because I am happy!”

I wasn't.

I drew from my labcoat pocket the item I never knew I had.

“What are you doing, Etna?”

The timbre of my voice was a shallow, hollow self.

“Defining my own happiness, I'm afraid,” before aiming my object at Blanc's arm and pulling the trigger. The loud ring pierced my eardrums, but I had become immune in such a short time span.

Blanc seethed, their grin loosening. “Damn! That was my non-robotic arm! How'd you know?”

“I didn't. Lucky guess,” I managed to utter in my same monotone before erupting in a fit of laughter.

“I don't understand what's going on!” Blanc whined. The pain must have been unbearable.

“Everyone has their breaking point,” was my reply, pure emotion rushing through me. I felt free, unrestrained for the first time in a while as I watched what I wasn't even sure to be human lose consciousness.

#happiness overload #writing #scifi #horror #magical realism #therapy #fiction #cosmic horror #here it is #I should have had this done sooner #oh well

1 note · View note

ourhappylies · 6 years

Text

Negan Angst Alphabet (🌻)

A/N: This alphabet was actually written by me, but if you have any suggestions for changes feel free to inbox me!

A— Abnormal (what makes them different?)

What makes Negan different than anyone else is his ability to kill the living, his complete disregard for human life. He almost takes pride in it, but deep down it hurts to see your reaction to him killing people who might have even been your friends.

B— Bad Habits (what bad habits do they have?)

Negan bites his nails a lot, he’s genuinely a bit of a nervous guy, although he’d never let anyone but you see him when he’s feeling anxious.

C— Crying (what makes them cry?)

If you bring up Lucille, he’ll talk about her, sure, but you definitely won’t escape Negan getting particularly teary eyed just thinking about his first love.

D— Death (How do they die? With family or alone? How does their partner find out? Probably not canon)

Negan dies alone, when the Alexandrians finally capture him when he goes to talk to Rick alone. Their partner finds out because Negan never comes back, and they know as much as anyone else does Negan wouldn’t abandon the Saviours.

E— Embarrassed (what embarrasses them?)

Negan gets embarrassed whenever someone brings up how anxious he is behind closed doors, and how much of a softie he really is. Usually he’ll get so embarrassed he’ll have to do something, usually killing the person mocking him, despite how close he might be to that person.

F— Fracture (what was the first bone that broke/fractured and how?)

Negan first broke his arm in kindergarten, because one of the older boys in school came up to him and broke it, because Negan made a rude comment. He spent the whole day crying, and that’s when he turned into the colder sort of person he is, with a disregard for death.

G— Gullible (who are they most gullible to and why?)

He’s most gullible to you, if someone tells him you’re in danger he’ll walk right into a trap willingly, even if there’s the possibility of him dying, because saving you means more to him then he does.

H— Heartbreak (how did they deal with their first heartbreak?)

Negan just tried to push it aside as best as he could, ignoring the festering sadness as much as he possibly can, turning his sadness at losing Lucille to anger at the whole world.

I— Insecure (what are their insecurities?)

Negan’s insecurities are that he’s so cruel, so he’s constantly worried you’ll leave him for someone who can be sweet to you alone or in a public space.

J— Jealous (what makes them feel jealous of others?)

He’s jealous when you spend time with someone much sweeter than him who loves on you more than need be and who makes you smile and laugh. He usually will stay out of your way when he’s jealous.

K— Knife (what’s their opinion on hurting others?)

Negan thinks it’s absolutely necessary to cause people hurt if they’ve hurt him in the past. He’s indifferent to their pain or their deaths, but he’s not indifferent to how you feel about it.

L— Love (who was their first love? Was it returned? How did it end?)

Lucille was his first love, and it was returned, it made him the happiest man on earth. She died when the zombie outbreak happened, she was bit soon after it started, and Negan sat with her every day while she got worse and worse until she begged him to kill her.

M— Mindfulness (what calms them down when they’re feeling anxious or depressed?)

If they’re feeling those strong negative emotions, you have to sit with him. You have to sit with him to make sure he won’t hurt himself or storm out and hurt somebody else or try to show off and kill walkers until he gets bit. He usually has to cry it out, holding on to you like you’re his personal teddy bear.

N— Nightmare (do they have them? How often? What’s their reaction, and what are they about?)

Negan has nightmares, but they aren’t often. He’ll usually wake up in a cold sweat after having a vivid nightmare of having to kill someone he cares about like you instead of Lucille. He loves her still, sure, but he wouldn’t trade you for the world.

O— Obsess (what they’re obsessed with that other people judge them for? What’s their “weird” obsession?)

Negan’s weird obsession is his significant other’s hair. He loves playing with your hair, pulling it, running his fingers through it, braiding it, anything. He’ll do it often in public, just to elicit a reaction, and a lot of the Saviors judge him for how touchy he is and how attached he is to just your hair. Before you started dating they might have even be worried he would scalp you.

P— Pet (how do they react when their first pet dies?)

Negan’s first dog he had until college, and he doesn’t go to class for a week, he spends his days in his dorm, reading and trying to forget all the good memories he had with his very first dog.

Q— Quirks (what’s one of their quirks they consider a flaw that everyone else likes?)

His ability to be kind and his soft spot for people he genuinely loves so that they’re able to get away with (almost) anything.

R— Repressed (what memories do they repress or they wish they could forget?)

Negan wishes he could forget having to shoot his own wife. He wishes he could forget the sounds or the way no matter how much he’s washed his hands he can still feel the blood on him.

S— School (were they ever bullied? What made them personally dislike the school system?)

He was bullied the first day of kindergarten when a psychopathic fourth grader broke his arm. He hated the school system ever since because when he showed up in the nurse’s office she gave him a peppermint and told him to head back to class.

T— Television (what show or movie always made/makes them cry?)

He used to watch the office constantly, and he always cried at the finale, no matter how many times he watched it. The movie he always cried at was Marley and Me, he couldn’t bear to see the dog dying like that.

U— Umbrage (what pisses them off? What offends them?)

If you call Lucille just his bat or if you brush off any of his affection, he’s pissed. He thinks you should not only respect Lucille but relish in the little affection he does give you in public.

V— Venturesome (what risks do they take that they shouldn’t?)

Negan doesn’t particularly care about himself, so he will wander out as loudly as he wants, not worrying if he’ll attract the attention of a walker, almost wanting that attention, wanting to prove to everyone with him how quickly he can kill one of those sons of bitches.

W— Weakness (what is their personal weakness?)

Their weakness is their inability to sympathize with anyone else, their hatred for the general human race prevents him from worrying about many people other than you, the only one who cares for him.

X— X-Double-Minus (random sad headcanon)

Negan hates himself, more than he could ever hate anyone who has ever pissed him off or offended him. He knows the world is cruel but ever since that first time you looked at him with absolute heartbreak in your eyes when he killed one of your friends, he’s hated himself.

Y— Yearn (what is one thing they want that they know they can’t have?)

They want Lucille back, more than anything. He’ll always yearn for his first true love, but he knows he can’t have her ever again.

Z— Zoophobia (is there any animal/bug/creature that scares them?)

Negan hates roaches. Genuinely can’t stand them, and maybe he’ll even admit he has a grand phobia of them, and they make him more than a little anxious.

#negan #angst #kinda angst #lowkey angst #mild fluff #negan twd #the walking dead negan #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead #twd #negan x reader #admin penelope 🌻#🌻

33 notes · View notes

christinaroseandrews · 6 years

Photo

Part 4

If you want to know what you missed in You Don’t Know Me, you can read Parts One, Two, and Three. Or you can just jump into the deep end and go from here. I should have said spoiler alert, but at this point who cares. However there are Trigger Alerts of Dubious Consent, Alcohol Abuse, Sexual Harassment, and a crap ton of sexist and homophobic microaggressions. Suffice it to say this is NSFW.

This is the last summary bit, I promise. I mean we only have a quarter of the book to go and the shit just hit the fan in a big way. Normally I would say that the last quarter is spent fixing the problems revealed on the way to the happy ending. But in You Don’t Know Me’s case, I would be completely wrong.

Let’s dive in, shall we?

With Alec, Rue, and Jenna all finding their own way back to the U.S. after their adventures in Ibiza, we’re left with Repentant Asshole Jack and Magically Reappearing Sean to follow around.

Sean once again proves he is too good for this world. By calling out Jack and how he’s been behaving.

Unfortunately this is literally all of the discussion that we get because the plane runs into turbulence. It turns out the turbulence is being caused by a large group of thunderstorms in the Caribbean (which most air traffic controllers try to steer around unless there is a more pressing reason not to) and everything goes to hell. Literally.

Since this is a storm, that means the water is going to be choppy which seriously impacts the ability of the pilot to land safely (my uncle pilots small craft and my cousin is a business jet pilot). Not to mention it feels like the only reason that Hopkins threw this in there was so that Jack would get a “get out of jail free” card and not have to be accountable for his actions and what he did to Rue.

The plane starts to go down and we get this.

Who here remembers the safety demonstration at the beginning of each plane flight? One of the things they stress is to not inflate the vest until you’re outside of the plane.

There’s a reason for that. It has to do with the laws of physics. Namely, that most people aren’t strong enough swimmers to be able to dive underwater while wearing a life vest and people get trapped in the sinking plane because they are floating not walking. I even saw a TV show on this that referenced Ethiopian Airlines Flight 961 and the memories of survivors who heard the life vests inflate and then saw people dying because they couldn’t get out.

Mean water.

So now that Jack and Sean are likely dead. Let’s check in with our favorite musician who we’ve yet to see do anything that warrants his celebrity, Alec.

He arrives at LAX and is immediately greeted by people exclaiming that “Yay! You’re not dead but your friends are!”

Which leaves him going “Huh?”

He dashes off to a bar and gets the news.

Alec then takes a page from the Tommy Wiseau school of acting and falls apart.

And there you have the problem. This grief feels overacted. Forced. Like Faleena has never actually lost someone she cared about and is going through the motions of grief.

We flip to Rue who has heard the news and decided that the best thing to do is to go to Jack and Sean’s house and try to comfort their grieving mother. Remember, this is the same woman whose husband cheated on her and Rue is a living reminder of that infidelity and betrayal. But sure, let’s go comfort Mrs. Stone. That’s a great idea.

Rue goes on and on in her head about how much she loves her brothers. Despite only knowing them a week. And one of the brothers has done his level best to break her and succeeded. Then we get this.

My parents went from Met to Engaged in literally 3 weeks. So I know it’s possible. But Rue hasn’t had the same kind of “get to know you” experiences. She’s had parties, and more parties, and that’s about it. The real problem is that the author didn’t show the bonding between any of her characters. Instead, she meandered from external plot device to external plot device without any character development. The number of times I can count Alec and Rue actually talking is non-existant. They don’t talk. They lust after each other.

Right now I am firmly on the mother’s side.

Alec shows up about a minute later and lets himself and Rue in.

When he appears, the mother reappears - drugged out - and apologizes to Rue.

We then get some of the backstory of Rue’s father and mother.

Apparently the mother left and despite telling Rue’s dad that she never wanted to see him, he still loved her. He even wrote a note to his wife telling her that he never loved her and that Rue’s mom was his soulmate. The man is a piece of work.

Not to mention, I have concerns about just how much Rue’s mom wanted the affair and how much was coercion. Because let’s be honest, it’s a power imbalance.

After this, we travel back in time to see what happened when the plane crashed. At this point, I am firmly convinced that Jack and Sean died despite what the author claims, and this is just a huge fantasy spun by Rue as part of the bargaining phase of grief. I mean, it makes as much sense as anything else.

The plane lands and Jack and Sean and the pilots manage to get out despite the rising water.

Once out of the plane they have to swim against the waves to get to the raft with an injured co-pilot.

At this point, I’m just chanting “Nope” so much that my dogs got concerned about my sanity and started bringing me toys in the effort to break me out of my fugue-state.

I have good dogs.

Of course Jack and Sean survive to reach the raft...

How do I know they’re near Cuba? It becomes a plot point later. But you want to know what else is near Cuba? The Gulf Stream.

Look at those water temps... Hmmm It’s almost like it’s warm in the Caribbean or something.

This water is definitely warmer than ANYTHING along the California coast. (LA average water temps in November are in the low 60s. The Florida Keys average water temperatures are in the upper 70s to low 80s during the same time.)

Sorry, my Earth Science degree is screaming. I’ll stop.

While they’re drifting they have a heart to heart and Sean reveals he’s gay.

Seriously, Jack is one of the most horrible people I’ve ever encountered that was supposed to be a redeemable character. There have been villains - Loki, Vegeta, Draco Malfoy, Darth Vader, Spike - who have had better redemption arcs and been better people than Jack.

Then this happens.

I actually went back and counted, from the time traveling reboot it literally was 8 pages from the start of that chapter with the actual plane crash and them being rescued. They were in the water for only a few hours or at least that’s what it feels like. The author is not good with time.

We return to Rue and Alec in California and get this...

Yep, the President calls to tell them Jack and Sean are safe.

There’s some very painful dialogue and then Mrs. Stone wanders off.

And one of Faleena Hopkins’ issues rears its head...

From here on, I imagined the entire scene was being listened to by Obama. It wasn’t pretty.

We start in on a “I am so happy my best friends are alive I must sex you up!” which I will spare you. Then Alec and Rue have a heart to heart and they decide that they can only be friends. Because she loves her brothers and she wants to make it work with them. I can get loving Sean. Sean is awesome. Jack can go rot. Have I mentioned I hate Jack?

Next we have a party to celebrate the return of Jack and Sean and my love of Sean wanes while my hatred of Jack and Alec rises. Jack because he’s a horrible human being. Alec because he spends his time moping about how wants Rue but can’t have her.

Sean wanders away and spends the next few minutes telling everyone he talks to that he‘s gay. Which I wouldn’t have a an issue with if this wasn’t billed as a straight romance. Sean rejoins the group and we get the following “Jack is terrible” things.

Jack stops with his harassment of Jenna and has a talk with Rue. Revealing that he too tried to commit suicide.

You know. I hear counseling is a thing. Maybe you all should look into that.

Anyway after that, he gives permission for Alec to date Rue.

Because men giving permission for people to date their female relatives is so 2015... or 1915... or 1815. One of those. This is also sexist. I know there’s a bro code, but frankly Jack has been such an ass and literally he’s known Rue for like a week, I’m skeptical.

Alec is relieved and runs off to find Rue. But she’s trying to stick to her vow of only friends.

So when she tells him no twice, he does this.

This is what Faleena Hopkins considers sexy: abuse. Naturally Rue is turned on and they run off to have sex.

Horribly horribly written sex.

Thankfully the scene is short. And by I short I mean WTF short.

The chapter ends with Alec and Rue making a promise to try to make things work. And if the story had ended there, it could kind of squeak into romance. But it doesn’t.

Instead the story ends with Rue, Jack, and Sean going on a talk show and talking about their life.

And here’s the final line.

Yep...

Honestly, Sean’s story arc was the most developed and compelling. But when a secondary character’s plot takes over the core plot of your romantic leads, there is something wrong.

Unfortunately, I am literally running out of room so I’ll sum up in another post where I talk about the most salient problems.

If you’re enjoying these reviews, you can buy us a kofi.

#romance novels #romance reviews #new adult romance #billionaire romance #contemporary romance #faleena hopkins #cockygate #musician romance #that's not how it works #gods i hate this book #stab this book with a spoon #part four #I'm almost done #I promise #book review

6 notes · View notes

pocket-luv101 · 7 years

Text

The Forest of Ash || Ch. 6

Fandom: Servamp Characters: Mahiru, Kuro, Licht, Hyde Pairings: KuroMahi (main), LawLicht (side)

Summary: To stop the never ending winter the gods created, Mahiru entered the Forest of Ash to steal fire and gift it to the humans. When he was caught, he thought that he would be put to death. But Kuro was far from the God of the Dead that he heard stories about. He decided to stay in the Forest of Ash with him. {KuroMahi//Greek Mythology AU}

FFNet || AO3

Ch.1 || Ch.2 || Ch.3 || Ch.4 || Ch.5 || (Ch.6) || Ch.7 || Ch.8 || Ch.9 || Ch.10 || Ch.11 || Ch.12 || Ch.13 || Ch.14 || Ch.15 || Ch.16 || Ch.17 || Ch.18 || Ch.19 || Ch.20

Licht sat next to Hyde and brushed his bangs aside so he could wipe the sweat from his brow. He dragged him back into the cave but he hadn't woken yet. It had been hours and he had been tending to his injuries in that time. He dressed the wound on his shoulder and he stopped the bleeding but Licht was still concerned. Gods were immortal but they could still feel pain.

"Open your eyes, Shit Rat." Licht ordered as he poked his cheek repeatedly. He didn't move. With an irritated sigh, he pulled his knees to his chest and hugged his legs. He couldn't find the Forest of Ash without him so he had to stay by his side. He hated to admit it, but there was another reason he couldn't leave Hyde. When they faced Tsubaki, Hyde was already hurt but he thought about him before himself. "I don't understand you. You scoff at life and insult me but you try to protect me."

Licht thought back to the night he first found Hyde. He was compelled to save him and treated his wounds because he thought he was a dying human. Now, he knew the truth but he found himself doing the same thing. He stared down at him for a moment and then forced himself to turn away. He had no intention of being with the Olympian longer than needed so he pushed his confusing feelings aside.

Licht focused on the fire and added tinder to fuel the flames. He needed to be careful of the fire going out because only the Olympians could create fire. If Hyde didn't wake up before the fire died, Licht would have to pray to another Olympian for fire. With the war between the Olympians, he didn't know if they would listen to his prayers once they knew that Hyde was with him.

"You're more trouble than you're worth." Licht searched through his bag for anything else he could use to keep them warm. He pulled out the cloak Hyde gave him but his warning echoed in his mind. Heat would make his wings melt so he couldn't give the cloak to Hyde. He glanced back at the god and returned to his side. "I guess I have no choice."

Licht crawled beneath the blanket and laid down next to him. He kept his back to Hyde but he could feel his warmth behind him. He watched the cave's entrance for anyone that could attack him but it was difficult to focus on anything aside from Hyde.

"Please don't do this… Please change your mind…" Hyde's hoarse voice made him jump a little. Licht sat up and leaned over him so he could see his face better. His eyes were still closed and he was sweating a little but what worried Licht was his incoherent murmurs. "I'll give anything… Just don't do this. Don't try to be some tragic hero!"

"Hyde, wake up!" Licht knew that he was trapped in a nightmare. From his words, he guessed that he was reliving the dinner scene where Sleepy Ash made the decision that tore the Olympians apart. Anguish and regret was clear to see on his face and his brows were furrowed. He shook his shoulder to pull him out of his nightmare. "It's just a dream."

"I love you." Hyde blindly reached out and grabbed his hand resting on his shoulder. His action threw Licht off balance and he fell onto his chest. Before he could push himself off him, Hyde wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him. Licht tried to struggle out of his hold but his grip only tightened around him. He buried his face in his black hair and whispered. "My sweet Ophelia."

Licht froze when he heard the unfamiliar name. None of the Olympians were named Ophelia and he hadn't heard of a woman with that name. But he knew that she must've been someone important from the pain in Hyde's voice. He began to panic as Hyde pulled him closer. Licht forced himself out of his arms and kicked him roughly. "Don't kiss me, Shit Rat!"

"What was that for, Licht?" Hyde yelled as he woke.

"Die 'til you die, Shit Rat!" Licht's face was crimson as he continued to kick him. He was confused by the entire situation but tried to defend himself against his attacks. Hyde didn't know why but his expression was a mixture of anger and a blush.

"Don't hurt the injured, Lichtan!" He screamed and was relieved when Licht relented. Hyde watched him march away and he rubbed his sore back. He wondered what he did to anger him. Licht was sitting in front of the fire with a scowl as he stirred a pot. Seeing his lips set in a hard line, Hyde moved to his side and sat next to him. "I'm sorry. Did I say something in my sleep?"

"Forget it," Licht said as he poured soup into a bowl. Then he thrust the bowl in front of Hyde with the order, "Eat it. You need to regain your strength so we can save Mahiru. We already wasted enough time in this cave. I thought about leaving you here."

"But you didn't." He pointed out and he couldn't help grinning. But he had to grimaced at the green soup Licht handed him. Licht was a terrible cook and the vegetables floating in the soup looked burnt. Still, Hyde forced a grateful smile on his face as he ate. "This brings back memories. We would have dinner just like this. I really missed those nights."

"Don't think that this changes anything. I'm only doing this because I need your help to rescue Mahiru." Licht said. From the corner of his eyes, he glanced at the bandages around Hyde's shoulder. "Your brother, Tsubaki, attacked you. You said you would explain why once we're safe in the cave. Shouldn't you two be on the same side if you both disagree with Sleepy Ash?"

"He blames all of us for what happened. Sleepy Ash made the final decision but none of us stopped him. Tsubaki fought to save the human while we just accepted his decision." Hyde sighed as the memory of that night echoed in his mind. He absentmindedly ate but he could barely taste the soup. Licht could hear the deep regret in his voice despite how he tried to hide it.

"What you did in the past doesn't matter." Licht took his bowl from him to pour more soup into it. He handed it back to him with determination in his eyes. "It's what you do now. When we reach the Forest of Ash, I'll save Mahiru and you'll save your human."

"Change the flame's shape like this." Kuro guided Mahiru's hands around the small flame between them. They were in the throne room and he would teach him how to control fire between judgments. Mahiru could only make a small fire but Kuro thought that was best for the time being. He thought that it would be better for him to learn how to control fire before they tried to draw out more of his power. "Make sure to keep the fire strong even when you stretch it."

Mahiru bit his lip in concentration as he tried to force the flame into the shape of a square. It was difficult to hold the fire in place and it ended up being a misshapen rectangle. "Don't try to force it too much. I already told you that fire is dangerous and hard to control. It's easier to guide it. Think of it like your clouds but be more assertive towards it. Try to make a circle."

He focused on the fire and tried to change its shape again. The flame was still a little unsteady but it was a circle. Their lesson was interrupted when Charon entered the throne room. Mahiru closed his hands over the flame and tried to adjust his position in the throne. It was only barely large enough for the two of them to share and Kuro wondered if he should have a throne made for Mahiru.

"My lord, the next visitor is a human that has a request." Charon said. A man stopped in front of them and Kuro sat a little straighter in his chair. It was rare for a human to enter his forest and his past experiences told him to be wary. The man's stern expression made him more concerned. He placed his hand on Mahiru's arm to stop him from approaching the human like he did with Misono.

"State your request." Kuro said, thinking that it was better to end the judgment quickly.

"My name is Baku. Recently, my wife died and—" He started and Kuro quickly interrupted him.

"If you want to visit her, she should be somewhere in this forest. Charon will explain the conditions of your visit but you'll have to find her by yourself. What you do after that is none of my concern." Kuro said. The living could visit departed souls living in the Forest of Ash but most were too afraid to do so.

"No, I came to ask you to revive her soul." Baku stepped forward with his request. A frown settled on Kuro's face and his eyes narrowed. It wasn't a rare request but it was troublesome. "I heard of how you spared Misono and Tetsu's soul and let them go free. Please do the same for my wife, Uraraka. I have prepared a substantial list of benefits for reviving her. Firstly, she is a brilliant inventor―"

"Can't deal. I'm not going to revive your wife." Kuro said in an even voice. "There were very… special circumstances in Misono's judgment. He was still alive and had Old Child's protection. Even if I wanted to, I can't revive Uraraka. The dead cannot leave this forest once they pass the bridge. Their soul will fade if they try to cross the bridge because their life is already forfeited."

"You're a god! You can bend the rules to help her, can't you? You are the debtor who is always paid. A little while we tarry up on earth. Then we are yours forever and forever. But I seek one who came to you too soon. I tried to bear my loss. I could not bear it! You gods have taken so much from us and ignore our prayers but can you listen to this plea?"

Mahiru could hear the grief in his voice and stood before Kuro could stop him. He picked up the long list Baku made and skimmed it. From Baku's description, Uraraka was a wonderful and talented woman. The love he had for his wife was also plain to see. He looked back to Kuro with sympathetic eyes and he could already hear his request. "She will help a lot of people with her inventions and Baku…"

"Mourning husbands are annoying to deal with." Kuro groaned. He knew that Mahiru would argue with him so he thought it was better to give in. He was sympathetic to their situation as well and thought over what he could do for the couple. "If you're able to lead her back to Earth, the sun will revive her. You need two things to keep her soul strong enough to cross the bridge: something that connects her to the living and a light to guide her."

"Thank you for this chance!" Baku said. "Our love connects us so I only need a guiding light. Where may I find one?"

"Fire. My husband can create a flame powerful enough to help you." Kuro answered. "But there is one conditions. She will follow behind you but you cannot turn around and look at her before you cross the bridge. If you do, her soul will disappear. That's the fate of any soul seen trying to leave my forest."

"Um, Kuro…" Mahiru spoke hesitantly after Charon left to summon Uraraka's soul.

"What? Didn't you want me to help the two."

"I do want to help them. But I don't know if I'll be able to maintain my fire the entire walk." Mahiru wrung his hands together in worry. If his fire went out before they crossed the bridge, Uraraka's soul would be lost forever. The thought made him shiver as he remembered the dreadful day he regretted. He didn't want to be the cause of any more misery. Kuro could see his hesitation and wrapped his hands around Mahiru's.

"You can do this, Mahiru." Kuro spoke softly. He kept one hand over his and cupped his cheek with the other. Gently, he lifted Mahiru's face and their eyes met. He wasn't the best with words but he wanted to take away the worry he saw in his eyes. "I wouldn't have suggested this if I didn't think you could do it. You've gotten better at controlling the fire but don't exert yourself. Just keep the flame small."

"You're right. I can do this if I keep things simple." Mahiru said with a confident smile. He was glad that he had Kuro's support and his words reassured him. If Kuro believed in him, he didn't want to disappoint him. He also knew that he would regret not doing anything more than failure. He took a deep breath before he created a small flame in his cupped hands. "This should be large enough to guide Uraraka's soul, right?"

"Yeah. Be careful, okay?" Kuro said and Mahiru nodded in return. He watched him leave with Baku following him. Mahiru knew the way to the bridge and he could control a small flame well enough but he still worried about him.

"Will that flame be sufficient to guide Uraraka? I can't hear her steps behind me. How can I know that she is behind us?" It was difficult to concentrate on maintaining the small flame with Baku peppering him with questions. Even though Baku was walking in front of him and he couldn't see his expression, Mahiru could hear the doubt in his voice.

"Kuro wouldn't lie to you. I'm certain that Uraraka is right behind us even if we can't hear her." Mahiru reassured him. His shoulders were still stiff so he knew that he didn't believe him. He only hoped that Baku would have faith in Kuro and not turn around. "He isn't the god they say he is. Kuro is kind and I trust him. Anyways, lying and tricking you would be troublesome."

Mahiru snickered when he imagined the deadpanned expression Kuro would have whenever he called something troublesome. He was a little taken aback at Baku's bitter voice. "I wouldn't put anything past the Olympians. They don't care for us at all. None of them protected Uraraka or my father or any of us from this storm no matter how much we pray."

"I understand… I really do. But you need to have faith in Kuro. Look, the bridge is in front of us now. Once we cross it, you'll see that he's telling you the truth." He said, urging him forward. Baku stepped onto the bridge but he stopped after a few steps. "What are you doing, Baku?"

"I just need to check." Baku whispered and he turned around too quickly for Mahiru to stop him. Mahiru's stomach dropped when a shadow ran past him and threw her arms around Baku. She was already fading away as she touched Baku's cheek and whispered farewell.

Then, she was gone.

Mahiru gaped as he looked at Baku's devastated expression. He didn't know what to say and they stared at each other without a word. As he tried to think of what to say, Baku marched forward and screamed.

"She's gone. I knew I shouldn't have trusted anything that man said. The Olympians don't care about humans and cause nothing but destruction. You simply can't trust the gods. This is why I hate them for taking everything from me!" Baku ranted and Mahiru's hands tightened in his robes. But he couldn't stop himself from screaming over Baku.

"Don't talk about Kuro like that! I know that you're hurting after losing Uraraka and I'm sorry for your loss but don't take out that anger on Kuro. He's a wonderful person and he does care about humans. He gave you this opportunity but you couldn't believe in his kindness. You were the one that turned around because you couldn't trust him."

"How dare you? You might be a god but you know nothing of loss. All gods are the same." Baku lifted his fist but Mahiru didn't move. He refused to step down or flinch when defending Kuro. Mahiru prepared himself for his punch and glared at Baku.

"I believe in Kuro and I won't let you speak poorly of him!" At that moment, someone stepped between them. Mahiru's gasp was drowned out by the loud crack Baku's punch caused. "Kuro?"

"I told you mourning husbands are annoying to deal with." Kuro said in an even voice as he rubbed his cheek where Baku punched him. The moment he saw Baku raise his hand, he rushed to protect Mahiru. His body moved before he could even process the scene. He clenched his jaw and he was glad that it wasn't broken. Then he spoke in a much lower voice. "If you're angry with me, then take it out on me. Don't you dare hurt Mahiru."

Mahiru had never heard him sound so threatening or angry before. He touched his arm lightly and the tension left Kuro's body almost instantly. He faced Baku and bowed to him slightly. "I'm sorry. I wished it could've ended differently. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now but please don't fight here. If there's something, anything, we can do for you…"

"There's nothing you can do for me now that she's gone." Baku's voice was coloured with bitterness and grief. Mahiru was sympathetic to his pain but he didn't know what else he should say to him. He could only watch him leave. He sighed after he saw him disappear into the thick blizzard on the other side of the bridge. Mahiru turned back to Kuro and bit his lip.

"Does it hurt?" Mahiru asked as he touched his cheek. He shook his head in answer but it was already beginning to swell. So, he took his arm and pulled him towards the river. He lightly urged him towards a large rock and ordered, "Sit down and let me see it. Even if it doesn't hurt, we need to take care of it. I'll get something to help with the swelling."

"I'm an Olympian so you don't really need to fret like you're my mom. It doesn't even hurt that much." He protested. Kuro watched him take out a napkin and dip it into the water. After he wrung out the water, he created a small snow cloud to chill the wet napkin. Mahiru placed his hand on his shoulder to stop him from moving away and pressed the cold napkin to his cheek.

"Tell me if it stings." Mahiru instructed as he sat down next to him so he could be comfortable. His hand felt soothing on his cheek. With a blush, he said. "Thank you for protecting me. I'm sorry that you had to do that in the first place. I was the one that suggested we revive Uraraka's soul. If I didn't…"

"You don't need to look so guilty. It's okay." No one knew how painful and unavoidable death was more than Kuro. But seeing how optimistic Mahiru was and how he fought for a better future, he forgot that. He was stronger than most gods Kuro knew and he had to admire that. "I guess I should thank you too for defending me like you did. You didn't need to say all of those things."

"You heard all of that?" Mahiru suddenly felt flustered after Kuro nodded. He was being honest when he praised him but it was embarrassing that Kuro saw him lose his composure. He had to wonder how long he had been following them because he appeared so quickly. "If you were there, why didn't you step in sooner? You could've stopped Baku from turning around."

"I didn't think I needed to do anything." Kuro shrugged, as if his answer should've been obvious. "I trusted that you can handle a simple human like Baku. I only followed you in case you three were attacked or something. Knowing you, you would've tried to maintain that fire for Uraraka's sake rather than use it to protect yourself."

"You're probably right." He laughed at himself. The fact that Kuro believed in him so much made him happier than he thought it would. Mahiru gently stroked his cheek and he leaned into his hand. He recalled the things Baku said about Kuro but he couldn't see a hint of truth in his words looking into his kind eyes. He wondered how long people wrongly believed the worst of him.

"Kuro, I meant what I said back there. You're a great person. Don't let what Baku said get to you. I believe in you." Mahiru took the napkin from his cheek and he was glad to see that the swelling had lessened. He knew that Kuro was a god and healed quickly but he still found himself worrying about him.

"Where did that come from? I'm used to people saying things like that so you don't need to go out of your way to defend me." Kuro said but his cheeks were a little red. Even if Mahiru words came from kindness and sympathy, he knew they were honest. He had become accustomed to people's distrust and disgust that he didn't know how to react to his words. He turned away and said sarcastically. "The next thing you know, you'll try to kiss me better."

"Stop being such a child. Here," Mahiru leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Both of their faces were burning when Mahiru pulled away and stood. He ran to Black Cat and climbed onto its back. "Let's head home. We need to judge a few more souls and then go on that boat ride you promised me."

"You really like dragging me about, don't you?" Kuro walked to his side.

Kuro watched Mahiru from the corner of his eyes as he guided the rowboat down the river. He had a soft smile on his lips as he gazed at the forest. He set aside the oar and sat next to Mahiru. The river had a steady current so he didn't need to steer the boat. "If we're about to crash, wake me up."

"You're going to sleep now? You didn't tell me where our destination is so we might pass it while you're sleeping." Mahiru pointed out and Kuro groaned. He petted Black Cat between them and brushed off Mahiru's concern.

"I really didn't think of a destination for us. I was just planning to float down the river until you said you wanted to go home. You said that you wanted to see the forest and that's what we're doing right now." Kuro told him and Mahiru looked far from happy with his answer. "The Forest of Ash isn't known for beautiful attractions."

"You need to give your forest more credit." He stood and walked to the bow. He leaned forward haphazardly so he could scan the forest ahead of them. The boat swayed a little so Kuro stood behind him and placed his hand on his hip to keep him from falling off the boat. Something caught Mahiru's eyes and he pointed to a large tree. "Take me there."

"I will after you sit down. I don't want to fish you out of the river more than once." Kuro took his hand off his hip but he held his hand to help him keep his balance. After Mahiru sat down again, he steered the boat towards the tree. He wondered if Mahiru chose the tree at random because nothing about it seem special. But Mahiru excitedly walked towards it once he docked the boat.

"So, they're pomegranates." Mahiru mumbled as he stopped in front of the tree. It had to be the tallest trees he had ever seen and its branches were filled with fruit. From a distance, the pomegranates looked like rubies against the blue leaves and Mahiru was curious about the tree. He tried to pick one of the pomegranates but the branches were too high for him to reach.

"What are you doing, Mahiru?"

"What does it look like? I'm climbing." He answered him as he placed his feet on a gnarl and climbed up the tree. Black Cat transformed into a crow and followed him. Mahiru settled himself on a sturdy branch and grinned down at Kuro. He had a worried expression as he tilted his head. "Aren't you going to join me up here?"

"You're going to break your neck if you fall." Kuro pointed out. The inviting smile Mahiru had prompted him to follow him up the tree.

Mahiru could see that his arms were shaking a little as he held onto the tree trunk. Even when he was safe and sitting on the branch next to him, he still looked nervous. Kuro was almost like a small cat trapped in a tree. Mahiru had to smile because he was able to see a new side to him. He moved closer to him and reassured him.

"You don't have to look so scared Kuro. If you fall, I'll catch you so there's nothing for you to worry about." He created a large cloud beneath them. He appeared more relaxed and Mahiru was glad that he could help him. "You didn't need to join me up here if you weren't comfortable climbing. Didn't you climb trees like this when you were younger?"

"No," Kuro answered after a pause. He could see the confusion on Mahiru's face, so he explained. "I'm not afraid of heights but I'm not used to doing things like this. I can't remember the last time I climbed a tree. Even when I was just a kid, I was busy with my duties so I didn't have time to just play. Death doesn't take a break after all."

"Then we need to do this more often." Mahiru decided. He took a pomegranate and cut it open with a small knife. He picked a few of the seeds and held them out to Black Cat. The crow eagerly ate out of Mahiru hand and Kuro smiled at the two. "Pomegranates tree aren't this tall usually. We can see the bridge and your throne room from here."

"This is the first time I've seen my own forest from this angle." Kuro said.

"It's beautiful. I've never seen anything like your forest on Earth." He turned his gaze to Kuro. "You lived in this forest for so long that you probably became accustomed to it."

From the corner of his eyes, Kuro saw Mahiru carelessly lift a pomegranate seed to his lips. He instinctively hit the fruit out of his hands and immediately regretted it when Mahiru's eyes widened. A silence came between them for a moment and neither of them knew what to say.

Kuro was the first to speak. "I already told you that you can't eat food grown in the Forest of Ash. You'll be trapped here with me if you do. How can you help humans with your fire if you can't leave this forest?"

"I guess it slipped my mind." Mahiru whispered and looked down at the pomegranate on the ground. He was having so much fun with Kuro that he forgot the dangers within the forest. "Thank you, Kuro. All this work we're doing would be pointless over such a silly mistake. I'll be more careful."

"It's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I didn't hurt you, did I?" Kuro took his hand to make sure that he hadn't bruised him in his haste. "What are you going to do out there without me? I'm pretty sure you'll run into a lot of danger without thinking things through. Even after you learn to control fire, make sure not to bite off more than you can chew."

"Kuro, why are you talking like we'll never see each other again after I leave the forest. I'm going to come back after I gift fire to the humans." Mahiru tilted his head at him in confusion. He could see the shock in Kuro's eyes. "We're married and this forest is my home now so, thinking simply, I'm going to return to your side. Anyways, your siblings would have a lot of questions if I just disappear."

"... Oh," Kuro didn't know what else to say. He was certain that Mahiru would leave his forest the first moment he could. His answer made him happy and confused at the same time. He scratched his cheek and said softly, "If you left… I would… Black Cat would really miss you!"

"... Will he be the only one?" Mahiru asked and he could feel his heart racing as he waited for his answer. He was disappointed when Kuro only gave him silence. What did he want Kuro to answer with? He would've liked him to say that he would miss him too but he was reminded that their marriage was merely a farce. To distract himself from his feelings, he petted Black Cat. "I would miss you two after I leave."

"How long do you think it would take to give fire to each country?" Kuro asked.

"Maybe eight months." Mahiru bit his lip. It was strange but thinking about leaving Kuro made him feel lonely despite how he was right next to him. Then a thought came to him and he turned to him with a bright smile. "How about you come with me? You're showing me this beautiful forest so I can repay you by showing you Earth."

"I don't know if I can go with you. Death doesn't take an eight month break." Kuro pointed out. He looked beyond the bridge to the raging storm. Tsubaki wasn't strong enough to force the storm into the Forest of Ash but Kuro was always aware of its presence. It was a constant reminder of the choice he made. Thinking of his brother, he worried about Mahiru because Tsubaki might target him once he learned that they were married.

"I can take my work with me." Kuro started slowly but Mahiru instantly looked at him with eager eyes. "I'll leave a shadow behind to hand out my judgments for me. It takes a lot of energy to maintain a shadow copy so don't yell at me if I'm more sluggish than usual during the trip. Black Cat can take us wherever you want."

"You can transform into anything, can't you? You're pretty special," Mahiru praised and it nodded proudly. Black Cat wanted to be praised more and transformed into a bear. The extra weight caused the branch to break. They all began to panic and Mahiru instinctively clung onto Kuro. He wrapped his arms around him in return and tried to protect Mahiru from the fall.

Neither of them were hurt because they fell onto the cloud he laid below them. Kuro groaned as he sat up to check that Mahiru wasn't hurt. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Mahiru smiled up at him. He blushed when he realized that he was sitting on Kuro's lap. He rushed to move off his lap but he stumbled a little and ended up falling onto his back. Kuro leaned over him with an exasperated expression. He picked a fluorescent leaf from his brown hair and noticed that his cheeks are red.

"Are you getting sick? You did have to use your fire a lot today." He gently placed his hand on his forehead to check his temperature. Mahiru's heart jumped at his simple touch but Kuro didn't seem to think anything of it. "Maybe we should take a break tomorrow if you're tired."

"You just want an excuse to sleep in tomorrow." Mahiru rolled his eyes and stood. "We should clean up this branch and head home. It's getting late."

Pretty long chapter this time. I was supposed to post this awhile ago but then my computer went to shit and I lost everything (my hard drive crashed and I need it replaced). Basically had to rewrite everything).

#servamp #kuromahi #lawlicht #mahiru shirota #licht jekylland todoroki #servamp kuro #servamp hyde #fanfiction #the forest of ash

43 notes · View notes