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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

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Idk about you but that trope where a giant gets angry and accidentally scares a tiny and feels bad abt it afterwards makes me go absolutely feral,,

So, originally, I was planning for this scene to be in a future chapter of This Is Nothing Like The Disney Star Wars Trilogy, but I could never really think of a full story arc around it, even though I still really really really love this idea. In any case, if I happen to brainstorm a better plot and find a way to squeeze this in I might edit it into the main story, otherwise enjoy some classic Giant Catboi and Twink Solider fearplay >:3c

“Do you have any idea how dangerous that was!?”

As expected, the little one did not respond to his rhetorical question, though his tone certainly helped snap it out of its previous stupor as it released its death grip on his shirt in favor of squirming as soon as the bedroom door slid shut behind him. His aggravation at the situation was clear as day even without the usual language and cultural barrier that impeded any sort of deeper relationship Edix tried to form with the human. Red ears were still folded back against his curls and his shoulders tense, the stiff posture traveling down to his hands were they gripped the earthling to his chest perhaps just a touch more tightly than usual, not that it prevented it from trying to push and wriggle itself out of his overprotective hold.

Fuck no, he wasn’t ready to let it go yet, not when flecks of blood were still smeared against his knuckles as a result of an impromptu rescue mission. The satisfying snap of cartilage under his fist after one good sucker punch to Talan’s smug face still echoed in his mind, blood gushing from the surely broken nose while the biologist stumbled backwards into the shelves. Edix wondered if he would be reprimanded for that by the directors later, or if Talan would be too proud to report the ass kicking, maybe even taking the lesson to heart to not fuck with his things in the future. And yes, that included trying to vivisect his sweet little pet.

How was I supposed to know the stray belonged to you? He had asked with sarcastic innocence, as if the human in question hadn’t been seen with Edix a thousand times before, and wasn’t drenched in his scent, and didn’t have his ID code printed on the back of its little suit, Maybe if you weren’t such a wuss and actually put it on a shorter leash-

Asshole. He was lucky Edix’s only goal at the moment was to get the little one off the table and back to the appropriate sector rather than rip Talan to shreds with his own tools. A taste of his own medicine, perhaps. Still, he admittedly did have a point about the human, what with how much it would run off and get lost and damn near killed. He simply couldn’t figure out what was so terrible about staying in his company that the little one would risk injury and mutilation in a foreign environment as opposed to the safety and comfort he so desperately tried to provide for it. They might have had a bit of a rocky start, sure, but stars above that was far in the past now. There’s nothing either of them can do to change the facts so why not accept things as they are and make some type of effort to be happy in this new life? By all accounts, Edix was a great owner!

And yet, the little one still fought him every step of the way. Even now, having just saved it from a fate of having its tiny organs sliced while it was wide awake, it made it known it did not want to be near him anymore. It might have been clinging to him the entire walk back to the bedroom, but it must have remembered it was supposed to be oblivious to the notion of genuine love and safety because now it started to stutter out little squeaks on top of struggling. Normally, Edix adored any and all of the sounds it made, especially when it was directly trying to talk to him which only served to give him the mental image of a pup mindlessly babbling before they managed their first few words. This time, however, it only worsened his irritation.

“Stop.” He ordered, which the human somewhat complied with, though it probably had more to do with his harsher tone and the fact that he was already lowering his hand towards the bed to set it down. As soon as it was free of his hold, it scrambled back, looking at him with those wide brown eyes that were full of so much fear it made him sick. Why did it have to be so afraid of him? What could he have possibly done that even now, almost a cycle later, it was still overtly wary of his intentions. All he ever did was care for it. Feed it, pet it, cuddle it, protect it, and still nothing was good enough!

With a tired sigh, he rubbed his hand down his face and resisted the urge to tug at his hair. “I just don’t understand,” he pleaded, begging some cosmic being out there to suddenly grant the little one the power to understand what he was saying, “what can I possibly do to prove to you that I’m not going to hurt you? I’m trying to keep you alive and it’s like...I don’t know, you resent me for that or something!”

The sweet thing looked more confused at his words than anything, but he could tell his body language and voice were making it uneasy. The human was used to soft words and purrs and slow movements, rarely any agitation in his being. After a beat of silence marked by an intense stare down, Edix gave up on hoping the earthling would miraculously explain itself and open up to sharing its thoughts on the matter. He reached for it and it instinctively back up, flinching when a growl rumbled in his throat in response.

“Stop running,” it was a fruitless endeavor, but like hell if he wouldn’t stop trying. That was how new pups learned how to understand a language anyways, wasn’t it? To repeat certain words over and over until they got the idea? Maybe that’s all he needed to do here, maybe by now it already knew the Venandi words for no, stop, be good, and so on. He reached for it again and it did the same thing as last time, always sure to stay just out of the most convenient reach. Not that it mattered how much it inched away seeing how it was trapped on the bed with Edix directly in front of it, but it was the principal of the matter.

And it was then that something inside him snapped. Something primal as a result of dealing with an unruly pup far too long for his nerves to handle at this moment. He wasn’t even aware of his actions, belatedly realizing how he pounced on the bed in a flash, the human scrambling to get away but only having enough time to turn around before being roughly pinned on its stomach against the mattress. His teeth were bared and pressed tightly against its back, fangs scraping against the layers of its clothes to no doubt bruise the tender flesh underneath, though thankfully they didn’t break the skin. A loud growl reverberated though its entire body, shaking it to its core.

“Enough.” He hissed against its back, keeping his teeth pressed into its skinny frame for a moment longer before pulling away. The second he did, his glare softened, all the anger he felt gone in an instant as soon as he saw the sight underneath him.

The poor thing was absolutely petrified.

It was probably the worst it’s ever been scared, arguably. Not even the first time they met, when it had so gracefully tumbled down that hill and landed face first in front of him, compared to the level of fear that radiated off it. A split-second thought had Edix wondering if he had legitimately scared it to death. Soon enough, though, he was able to pick up the minute tremors that shook through it, almost like an aftershock of the warning that it felt more than heard. It was pale, baby face devoid of color not unlike that time before when it had been sick with fever. But its eyes...those sweet little doe eyes he loved so much were wide and wet with a sheen of tears that refused to fall, locked in a blank stare straight ahead towards the wall and refusing to look at him.

A small, choked hiccup made its body twitch every couple of breaths, but it refused to open its mouth to allow any of these sniffles to turn into cries. Shit, it refused to move at all, too terrified of Edix’s threat display that if it did anything he didn’t like there would be dire consequences to pay. He supposed it worked exactly as intended, in that case. It was still, it was quiet, it was technically obeying him after he just forced it to behave via alternative punishment. That didn’t change the fact that he felt absolutely, terribly, extremely awful about what he just did.

It was just a pup, as he always said, regardless of what Ylva would tell him about human adolescence and such. It didn’t know any better, it had never been raised in these situations before and needed much longer than a measly cycle to unlearn all of its prey behaviors it needed to survive on its home planet. Besides, it wasn’t that it didn’t fully know that it was perfectly safe with Edix, it was smart enough to know he was at the very least the safest option when presented with any other Venandi. Edix had been upset, and it knew he was upset, so of course it would want to avoid a potentially hostile predator before-

--before it snatched the little one in its teeth.

Fuck, fuck, he was an idiot. Maybe he wasn’t as cut out for this as he thought, not like Ylva who was the very essence of motherhood. No. Now wasn’t the time for self doubts and pity, not when the human was in such a state. Slowly, hands cupped around its shaking form, mindful to make sure his fingers were in its view so it wouldn’t be any more startled when he lifted it up, not that he was completely sure it was actually seeing anything in front of it. The little one hardly reacted to the movement, laying limp when he pressed it against his chest and moved to sit up against the headboard of the bed in a similar fashion to what he had done the first night the poor thing was on the ship.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” he whispered to it, rubbing his thumb along the curve of its back just how it liked whenever it dozed, “you’re okay, we’re fine, it’s okay to cry. I’m sorry I scared you, I’m so sorry.”

Normally in these types of instances, he’d be purring and shushing the little sweetheart until he was able to get it down for a nap, but he had little confidence that any other types of chest vibrations would have its usual effect of making the human drowsy currently. When it finally started blinking again, the tears that had welled up ran freely down its cheeks, quickly biting down on its wobbling lip to prevent any sobs from escaping and get it in trouble for misbehaving. He softly clicked his tongue at it and cooed, anything to put it at ease with a softer demeanor. “I know, honey, I know. I won’t ever do that again, I promise."

Well, if nothing else, at least the little one’s apprehension of him wasn’t unfounded anymore, much to his dismay.

#g/t #fearplay #g/t writing #g/t fearplay #giant/tiny #macro/micro #my writing #ask #anon #g/t ocs #all i can say is :3c #also i didnt skip math class i skipped english class instead hsjfhdfjhfjjsf

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randomingoftherandomness · 3 years

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The Bone of Impurity

So with the upcoming Winner is King, my brain got whirling with the thought of The Bone of Impurity which is arguably one of the main plot points of the novel and I thought I would do a bit of a meta for it? It is definitely something I hope they do not dilute for the Live Action adaptation but even if they did touch upon 1% of the shit that goes on into making a Bone of Impurity, it's still pretty Dead Dove Don't Eat. So I thought I would preempt it by actually putting down a primer on the Bone of Impurity.

I did not read the novel in Chinese and read it in English, so some of the more subtle themes present in the original work will have been missed by me. If anyone who has read the Sha Po Lang novel as it was written by Priest, do let me know if I have made any mistakes on any of the below ( •̀ᄇ• ́)ﻭ✧

Fair warning, there's some pretty Nightmare Fuel inducing shit, so I'll be keeping things under a read more in case people get squicked by this lol I'm also basing my references around the translation that Northwest Flower did because that is the one I read.

Just a basic background on The Bone of Impurity:

It is essentially a curse unique to the Northern Man people who utilise it in moments where someone's country is broken and nothing remains but revenge. To attain that, they make a sacrifice to the 'evil' gods of their beliefs

It is a cruel and horrible affliction to put on the person, but the return for it is that the person who becomes a Bone of Impurity gains the strength, intelligence, foresight and abilities of two persons

Whoever becomes a Bone of Impurity is someone who is single-mindedly ruthless and bloodthirsty when pressed towards a goal; they will attain power and their near supernatural abilities will make them unstoppable in achieving their goals

They will also gain a sort of existence that is neither alive nor dead. Sort of a zombie-like living. They also don't live very long

For all this super abilities, the flip side for anyone living with the Bone of Impurity is that they will be constantly highly suspicious and paranoid of everyone and everything; they will be slowly driven mad by the visceral hallucinations that will leave them incapable of knowing what is real and what is fake (Volume 1, Chapter 26; Volume 3, Chapter 70)

A Bone of Impurity attack comes about when the afflicted experiences heightened emotions or moments of extreme stress (I seriously cannot list out all the times it popped up in the novel because we would be here quite long lol)

It manifests in dual pupils being observed in their blood-hued eyes, hypersensitivity of the senses, their body burning up, almost sleep paralysis levels of body-lockedness and they will experience extreme pain with the bouts of attacks lasting hours at a time (Volume 2, Chapter 50 & 51)

The method of 'refining' a Bone of Impurity is...

Basically taking two babies and putting them in a dark place with no air, no water, no food. One of the babies will survive while the other one dies (Volume 3, Chapter 70)

I'm not quite certain if they have to be blood related or not, but the examples given in the book all indicate that if they have a strong connection to each other, then it would be better and that the Bone of Impurity would better take

The dead baby is then... 'refined' with the arcane arts and medicines of the Northern Man Goddesses and fed to the surviving baby (re:baby cannibalism)

I told you it wasn't pretty...

In the novel, Chang Geng is the Bone of Impurity made by Hu Ge Er, his aunt, in order to bring about chaos and tumult to Great Liang that had subjugated her people. Chang Geng is repeatedly described to have almost scary levels of intelligence and foresight, to the point where some of the characters actually wonder if he is omnipotent.

Chang Geng is also revealed to have obtained characteristics of his cousin

One of the ways Shen Yi and Gu Yun identified Chang Geng as the missing Fourth Prince is the congenital defect of a toe - which, lol, the worlds where DNA testing did not exist - and Chang Geng insists that his toe deformity was caused Hu Ge Er (Chapter 8)

It is later revealed that this was one of the further side-effects of the Bone of Impurity where the afflicted would reflect characteristics of the 'devoured' counterpart (Extra: Souls returned home)

Now on to the meta bit:

Chang Geng has a pretty much single focus sexuality on Gu Yun; even when he wasn't clear on what the nature of those feelings were, he was already dedicated to the man, already thinking up ways of how he can support him in the future

Even when he was heartbroken by the reveal of who 'Shen Shiliu' was and the lies and the subterfuge that had flowed between them, just with an apology and assurance from Gu Yun, Chang Geng was already ready to forgive him

Now, we know that Hu Ge Er said with her dying breath that the Bone of Impurity will cause him to lose his mind and will cause the death of everyone he will ever love. I think she said this because she has already detected the level of dedication he has built for Gu Yun and also because she is a horrible person and wanted one last pot shot at tormenting Chang Geng

Through all his Bone of Impurity attacks, Chang Geng has one consistent thing that he fears the most above everything else - Gu Yun abandoning him, rejecting him, leaving him in any way

My thought is simple; what makes him different from the other Bone of Impurities that were explicitly said and described in the novel? One person. Gu Yun.

Had Gu Yun not saved him from the wolves outside of Yanhui Town, he would have definitely died right there and then being killed by the Northern Man wolves. I truly believed that at that time, Chang Geng really ran out there to die. With just the scant descriptions of what Hu Ge Er did to him throughout his childhood, even the brief glimpses into her horrible abuse, is enough to cement that he was very likely unable to handle everything anymore.

If Gu Yun had not shown up and took on the mantle of Chang Geng's Yi Fu - as clumsy and as emotionally stunted as he was to deal with a dependent - was kind to him without any sort of condition attached to it, if Gu Yun had not taken that spot in Chang Geng's heart and mind as a moral compass, guiding his path to tempering the more extreme effects of the Bone of Impurity, I have no doubt that Chang Geng would have destroyed Great Liang before he even turned 21.

Because of Gu Yun, Chang Geng plotted the way to peace for Great Liang; divesting of weak emperors and ushering in a new age of stability and peace, building a foundation for his nephew to take over and build upon. All because he knew that Gu Yun loved his country, loved the people, has broken his back time and time again to toil for peace and defend its borders.

In the novel, they even explicitly say that when Gu Yun is out doing routine inspections of the borders and stuff, Chang Geng essentially shuts down; starts living like a monk and a life without colour until Gu Yun comes back to him (I don't know which extra or chapter this is in because this post has been waaaayyyy too long at this point)

With Gu Yun, especially when he learns that his supposedly unrequited and unfilial feelings were not as unrequited as they seem, he found a path to a future where he can strive to live without pain and without worry. With Gu Yun, he could focus all of the ruthlessness and all the bloodlust and the brilliance and the horrors and make it into a fulfilment of Gu Yun's dream; to be able to walk away from the battlefield and live out the rest of his days in peace and leisure.

Think about it, especially if you have read the novel, how scary can Chang Geng get when Gu Yun isn't around to temper him?

Basically, yes, I am definitely saying that Chang Geng and Gu Yun doing the horizontal dance with no pants resulted in peace for the country lol

[Bit of Trivia] Chang Geng's name is also significant because, according to Hu Ge Er, it is the name of the 'Bone of Impurity' in the Chinese dialect (Chapter 6)

#sha po lang #feng huo liu jin #烽火流金 #杀破狼 #chang geng #spl meta #sha po lang meta #winner is king #gu yun #changgu #chang geng x gu yun

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not-close-to-straight · 3 years

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I know this isn’t the original direction we planned for this chapter, but it’s better. Everything about Valkyrie’s story broke my heart, and if you removed the supernatural element of her being a shifter, it would be just like real life. Valkyrie was just defending herself, and somehow she’s the one that ended up in a cell, while her perpetrators got to walk free. But this is reality for women in these type of situations, especially WOC, and I hate it, I hate it so much, but it was beautifully handled. Moving on to Clint, and man, just when I think I can’t love anymore, you drop a new chapter, and I definitely do. The way he came to Valkyries defense made me cheer, and I know he can’t, but I just wanted him to deck every single person who did her wrong. I know Clint doesn’t see it this way yet, but the shifters consider him pack, and Bucky coming to check on Clint even after everything that happened and how tired he was… we love to see it. You can see how stressed Clint is though, the way he was with Tony, and I will forever be delighted by the research material being shifter romance novels, lol. And Bucky coming to check on Clint while he was sleeping, the foreshadowing of everything ahead… and Tasha, just broke my heart. “It’s always been like this.” BRB, have to go cry over all my favs.

It is absolutely NOT the direction we had planned for this lol but I think this did such a good job of rounding out just who Clint is as a person, how much he cares about his job, the pack, the PEOPLE individually.

Valkyrie's part was really hard to write. So many common themes of what WOC go through every single day. If we'd stuck with Carol as this character it still would have icky but it DEFINITELY hits different when its Valkyrie, just like Sam being forced to stay outside hits different because hes a POC as well. I didn't actually plan it to be like that, and honestly didn't notice because the emphasis of bigotry in this fic isn't about skin color it's about shifter vs human, but upon re-reading it was like, well SHIT.

Tony with his romance novels-- one of my readers asked why I use the "lol they read romance novels" joke in so many of my fics and honestly, it's because we are shamed SO MUCH for reading romance novellas, like people straight up make fun of women for reading them but like, we don't make fun of the men for their fantasy football and movies like Mission Impossible that are literally just reader insert novellas for That Kind of Guy? There's nothing wrong with reading pointless plotless feel good romancy stories, and I use it so much in my fics because like.. okay. Tony has a basketful of degrees and is wildly intelligent and has an EXTREMELY satisfying love life with arguably one of the hottest people alive... and he reads them. Because it's fun. And sometimes thats all that matters.

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forevercloudnine · 4 years

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arkhamverse riddlebat ship meme

(Continuing with the questions that @heroes-etc picked out for me, this set being from this ship meme.)

3. who is more afraid about the other leaving them?

Edward, hands down. Arkhamverse Riddler is maybe the neediest take on the character I’ve ever seen. Which is saying something, because the panel from “Questions Multiply the Mystery” where he writhes around on the floor begging for attention is permanently burned into my mind. He also clearly doesn’t take rejection well, as evidenced by the graffiti in his cell shown in a promotional image for Arkham Asylum (2009). J'ai aimé, j'ai souffert, maintenant... je hais. “I loved, I suffered, now I hate.”

It didn’t make it into the game proper (too subtexty, maybe, given a general lack of non-Batman people this could be referring to), but from my perspective it might as well have, since I experienced all the games second hand by sitting on the couch next to my brother while he swore at the Riddler challenges. Anyway, if perceived rejection has you writing French poetry on your cell wall in what looks concerningly like bodily fluids, then you probably won’t deal well with the concept of actually being dumped.

5. who is more likely to drunkenly confess?

Also Edward, given that he’s calling Bruce every five minutes. And if he’s not calling Bruce directly, he’s talking ABOUT Bruce in a public broadcast to all of Gotham. Eddie is the king of freudian slips sober, so one can only imagine what he would say in vino veritas. If he does get drunk, let’s hope for his sake that he opts to communicate through his private line to Batman rather than over every screen in Gotham.

6. who is more likely to push the other away (for any reason)?

Bruce, also hands down. Arkham Knight really goes out of its way to hammer in that Batman’s callous treatment of Riddler has wreaked havoc on Edward’s psyche, even if arguably Eddie had it coming. Riddler’s mole in the GCPD talks about this:

JT Walker: It used to be funny, you know [...] And then one day, it just wasn't funny anymore. It was pathetic. He stopped taking care of himself, got that crazy look in his eyes. I swear man, he's broken. You broke him.

Bruce’s subconscious gets a dig in on this topic via Joker hallucination.

“Joker”: Good for you, Bats! Eddie doesn’t need help. No, no, no. Beat ‘em up. Lock ‘em up. That’s the best medicine.

Even my brother, who would attempt to stab Arkhamverse Edward in the face War-of-Jokes-and-Riddles style if the games let him, felt guilty on Bruce’s behalf when Eddie started ranting about his photographic memory.

Riddler: I can summon your sneering features at will. That is, when they don't burst unbidden into my brain [...] I can remember every time you've hurt me. Sometimes I wake up, Dark Knight, to the feel of your hands around my neck, your carbon fiber created fists smashing my solar plexus.

I think because of this trait, one of the only ways this ship would work in Arkhamverse is if they came to an agreement during Arkham Origins (since Edward is... more or less... a vigilante in that game, albeit one that Bruce considers distasteful), well before their relationship gets to where it is in Arkham Asylum. The other way is if Bruce actually took the lesson Arkham Knight hammered over his head and tried to fix the damage done after faking his death. (In my mind there exists a many chaptered fanfic where after Batman “disappears” he moves to the second Batcave the games put under Arkham Asylum and takes on Joker’s “Eric Border” persona from the comics to become an orderly there. Whether it’s scarebat or riddlebat varies depending on my mood, but what’s consistent no matter what is that I have five WIPs on ao3 and I can’t write it until I finish at least one of them).

7. who picks fights more often?

Obviously Arkhamverse Edward is the most irritating person who has ever lived, so he kind of wins by default. But Bruce definitely holds his own in instigating unnecessary conflict with loved ones in this continuity. I’ll cut him some slack during Arkham Knight because one could argue that he spends most of the game half-possessed by an evil clown ghost, but it’s not like he’s much better in ANY of the other games. The bit in Arkham City where he lies to Talia’s face about being willing to spend the rest of his life with her so that she’ll give him access to the Lazarus Pit — even though if he was just honest and asked for it she probably would have helped him anyway, given that she DIES protecting him in the climax — is probably the best example of how he will infuriate people who love him for no logical reason. It’s a symptom of the post traumatic hyper vigilance, probably.

So if Edward did get the closeness to Bruce that his subconsciousness seems to be gunning for, he could look forward to the physical violence and public humiliation being replaced with the same well-intentioned gaslighting and emotional manipulation Bruce gives everyone but Alfred in these games. Actually, is Alfred the only one who’s even aware that he’s alive after Arkham Knight? Bruce, please tell your kids that you aren’t a pile of ash in the crater that used to be Wayne Manor.

9. who is more likely to withhold their feelings for the other?

The obvious answer is Bruce, because he keeps his emotions locked in a lead box buried like twenty feet beneath the floor of the Batcave (probably along with a bunch of kryptonite, since Superman is flying around the Arkhamverse somewhere). But honestly Bruce doesn’t seem to have a problem getting it on with supervillains in this continuity. He and Talia chat pretty casually about a recent romantic rendezvous in Metropolis when they meet in Arkham City. His emotional distance from Selina in Arkham Knight seems less like him withholding his feelings from her, and more like him not being over Talia’s death (or Joker’s, which... the narrative certainly focuses on more than Talia’s...).

So I think Edward would actually be more likely to withhold his feelings for Bruce. Even if Bruce approached him first, he’s too obsessed with the possibility of Bruce humiliating him to take any positive interaction (especially a romantic overture) at face value.

Riddler: You left me battered and demeaned in Arkham City. I am the Riddler, Batman. I don't suffer humiliation. I pay it back.

He’s not really wrong, either. Batman does humiliate him in Arkham City (by misleading Edward into thinking he’d let him die, no less); it’s the same embarrassment Edward inflicts on his own victims, so it’s not like he doesn’t deserve it per se, but it’s definitely not Bruce taking the higher ground.

Sticking him in his own trap is pretty vindictive, and Riddler’s weird commentary about not letting Batman have bathroom breaks during his revenge trials in Arkham Knight hints that Cash and the other guards might have made his (clearly unlawful!) punishment even more humiliating than we see on screen.

Riddler: Rule the seventh. Bathroom breaks will be administered on a discretionary basis. Should we find ourselves at a pivotal moment in your arduous journey to self-realization and defeat, I expect you to hold it in. Rule the eighth. Any accidents resulting from my strict enforcement of the seventh rule are to be considered your fault entirely.

So would Edward withhold his feelings for Batman? Yeah, probably. And it would probably take a lot of time and effort for Bruce to convince Edward that any feelings on his part weren’t just an attempt to humiliate Riddler further.

#riddlebat #edward nygma #riddler #arkhamverse #ship meme #every day #every day i think about the checkmate line

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gaawachan · 3 years

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Critical Role 126 Discord Convo

Here, my sibling and I talked a bit about Veth, Caleb, the Cerberus Assembly, and Astrid/Wulf in particular (it starts out a bit goofy at first but gets serious): Sibling: Did you see that animatic I sent you, speaking of that scene?

Me: Yes

Sibling: Like, it'd be great to update it with Astrid and Wulf in a mound just behind the 9

Me: Lol, they would have seen the polymorphed worm, too... And the yeti friends... "They... built snowmen in balenpost?"

Sibling: And had to camp out while they disappeared into the wizard tower... the Beau-shaped hole in Balenpost lol

Me: There was a jester one too

Sibling: LOL. Like, a snowman... a snowman with 2 heads

Me: and sad faces

Sibling: One kicked over snowman and two human-shaped holes in the snowbanks. But seriously, there's no way someone isn't aware that Vess is dead. Her window was open, letting the snow come in

Me: Oh, the assembly knows. At the very least, Ludinus, Trent, and the scourgers definitely know. Astrid "thanked" Caleb because she's assuming he killed her, or she wants that to be the case, at least.

Sibling: Veth is totally missing the point. The writing is on the wall, Astrid is using the shit out of Caleb and I think, at the very least it might be an interesting DQ6 moment where when they come back from saving the world, Astrid's already taken Trent's place and they have to deal with it that way.

Me: Yeah, it's very obvious, especially when you consider how Astrid and Caleb have similarities. Like... Astrid's panic attack in the alley reminded me of Caleb's breakdown in Shady Creek Run. Right after the manipulation is over and they're out of sight, they have a breakdown. Tbh... If Caleb were to replace anyone on the assembly, it shouldn't be Trent. It should be Ludinus. Ludinus is the root of the problems in the empire, pretty much everyone is certain at this point that that is the case. The king is evil but seems incompetent/useless.

Sibling: I wonder, honestly, if that'll be the conclusion to the M9? If Caleb's arc will conclude it?

Me: But at the same time I don't want him to be in the assembly; I don't think he WANTS to be.

Sibling: Rewatching the table scene *Veth: (to Wulf) "When the war was a bit more hot... Were you much more busy?" Wulf: "Not any more than yourselves." Veth: "No I mean, were you out on the lines like a soldier?" Wulf: "I'm not much of a frontliner... More of a scout, if you would."* Wulf is totally tailing them. Wulf is absolutely the person they sent after them, I'm certain of it.

Me: Yeah, I figured. There's going to be a confrontation in Eiselcross when they're traveling with Essek, I'm sure of it. That's gonna be rough.

Sibling: No, I know that, but it stuck out to me. I feel like Matt's dropping major hint bombs... ex vs current bf?

Me: I wonder if Essek has MET Wulf before.Sibling: I like Wulf more than Astrid.

Me: Me, too.

Sibling: I think I'll be sad if he gets gravity crushed, but he better not lay a finger... on my butterfinger.

Me: I mean, I feel bad for them both, but the problem is that they can't be trusted with power, and if the Assembly falls, they may try to seize power. Tbh I just don't see them surviving to the end and that's pretty sad.

Sibling: I could see Wulf being turned if the party spent more time on things, seeing as he seems to be more of a piece to be manipulated than a major player himself... but their focus is entirely on Trent and Astrid, which makes me think that he'll be canned.

Me: Actually, I'm not so sure about that Wulf thing. I think he may be harder to reach in some ways. See the thing is... Astrid wants power. That's understandable. But it's not clear if she wants power for necessarily nefarious purposes or if it's just that the life of poverty she led before coupled with how much she's lost drives her to reach for it, and it's not clear what would satisfy her or whether or not she'd be interested in taking her life in a different direction, so that's complicated.

Me: But with Wulf... Wulf's issues are simpler, which I think arguably makes him harder to reach. Wulf and Astrid have both basically shrugged off their parents' deaths at this point, they've both indicated as much in different ways, but Wulf's a servant of the Raven Queen. He can rationalize the death of anything and anyone under her banner. Unlike Astrid, who is motivated by power/ambition, Wulf is the holy soldier... of the death god. That's uh... zealotry.

Me: Worse still, he has religious motivations for going against those who use Dunamancy, which is likely an anathema to the Raven Queen. He was already following her when he was a teenager, because Caleb was looking to see if he had any symbols of her on him when they first reunited. Honestly I really don't think either of them can truly be reached unless Caleb DOES take over the assembly and even then they might do scummy stuff behind his back out of perceived necessity.

Sibling: If his motivations have been so tied up in his religion, it would make it very difficult to reach him, true. But Astrid seems to have invested so much into her ambitions that I wonder if she might try to quiet those talking her out of it. She seems very aware of her actions' consequences, unlike someone like Essek who had ambitions without understanding where his studies would take him. If they're left alive, which I don't think they will be, Caleb's best scenario would be to avoid the assembly as much as possible.

Me: Honestly at this point I feel like the entire government of the Empire needs to be cleared out and replaced, ideally by the Cobalt Soul. Though that would be very controversial, I don't think any other organization can be trusted with filling that vacuum. The Soul is ultimately an international religious organization, but considering they have shown willingness to weed out corruption within their own ranks, it would be interesting if they pooled their resources and had the Empire taken over by a circle of vetted monks instead of corrupt mages, and then have them transition to a democracy eventually.

Sibling: Considering that Matt has reinforced that the Cobalt Soul is attempting to weed out its own corruption, but can't seem to do so for other organizations... I wonder how long it would last. At least they wouldn't have to operate in secret anymore. Maybe that would lift their final restriction?

Me: Well, the thing that really chafes at me with respect to Caleb potentially joining the assembly is that he just DOESN'T FIT THERE. I've thought this before but Caleb would be more at home working for the Cobalt Soul than the Assembly. He's been talking about burning out the rot in the Empire for ages now, and that's basically the goals of the expositors. I wouldn't object to him being involved in the Empire's government... as long as that government did not consist of anything resembling the assembly. A complete restructuring.

Sibling: I mean, you can't really rework the gov unless you're already in a position like Ludinus, but even then, Caleb I still feel like is not the person for that.

Me: But let's be real, ideally he would be the head of the Soltryce Academy... and that's the thing... One of the problems with Wulf and Astrid is that you get the feel that they could rationalize doing anything. And you have to wonder under all that rationalization and manipulation if there is any malice/sadism... there probably is, which sucks because Astrid is actually far better positioned to be an effective politician than Caleb; she's had experience around it for over a decade, she probably knows politics very well. Caleb is earnest and an excellent negotiator but he is not a politician. He would be best off as an ambassador, if I had to pick a political position for him to take.

Sibling: The government does still need to be overthrown for Essek to come hang out with Caleb though, so it must be done.

Me: It must be done. Looping back to Veth/Astrid... Here are some of the posts on Veth's behavior that I've seen. *posts a bunch of links* It's interesting... the Astrid thing. I haven't seen anyone else point this out, but... Veth probably sees Astrid as being Caleb's Yeza. And if Caleb can go back to Astrid and be happy, it's like a test run for her going back to Yeza. Which is pretty messed up. He keeps telling her "Yes, I care for her, but we've both changed" and that's not something Veth wants to think about because it applies to her as well, except that... well, Yeza really hasn't changed. Just her.

Sibling: 1) Ah, skirting her trauma by attempting to address what she sees as Caleb's? Addressing her issues by proxy? Overbearing mom living vicariously through her son...? ... That kind of makes my stomach churn, but I get it. 2) Another revenge perspective. Considering her knee-jerk reaction to kill people who've wronged her family or the party, I think revenge is totally an aspect that has gone unexplored for her. 3) Eugh, the romance still squicks me out, but I understand. Nott was a different person to Veth, she probably had a hope out for returning to her form and going back to Yeza... But I wonder if she thought he wouldn't accept her, and she had Caleb as like... (ew) a backup?

Me: I mean, it's pretty well-established that she has a thing for Caleb. And yeah, her feelings for him are pretty fucked up because of their dynamic up to the point where they went to Felderwin. The CA did wrong her family, and so did Essek, and Veth is very much a vengeance-minded person in a far more straightforward way than Caleb. Most of the others have told Caleb that if he goes after the Assembly, it should be for the right reasons. Interestingly, Veth, Fjord, and Jester don't seem to agree exactly. Jester sees it as a sort of "why not both?" thing. Fjord seems to have no qualms with vengeance at all (unsurprising considering which parts of his past have not yet been resolved, and yet Fjord has never gotten shit for that like Caleb has, and Sabian has done far less harm/damage than Trent). But Veth? Veth sees vengeance as clearcut, something that ought to be pursued and then when it's done, it's done and she's satisfied. It's interesting that the person who Caleb was most attached to at the start of the campaign is also by far the most unhealthy influence on him in the group at this point.

Sibling: I think it's because Fjord hasn't been molded by Sabian. Sabian wronged him, but the more Fjord found out about himself, the less important that seemed. And the more they found out, the more you begin to call into question whether what he did was to get rid of Vandran, an unsavory figure or... something else? Not to mention, Sabian is insignificant, whereas Caleb's abuser is still abusing people to this day. I can see there are major differences between the consequences of either of their revenge quests.

Me: Yes, but that's precisely my point. Sabian is not hugely harmful in comparison to Trent, so it's interesting that people give Caleb shit for being motivated partially by revenge, while Fjord doesn't get any when that's basically his ONLY motivation for tracking down Sabian.

Sibling: Probably because Fjord might get a reason without killing Sabian. Caleb might be walking into a trap, laid out by his peers. I still am of the opinion that killing Trent is a net positive. Just the act of getting rid of him is necessary to stop the cycle. But what comes next is the most important part. Because if Trent is dead when they come back, and Astrid sits in his place... The perpetuation of this cycle won't come to a close.

Me: Yes. I mean, personally? His entire section of the Empire's government should be outright dissolved. It's absolutely revolting. The thing is that it's not just Trent that needs to go; it's his POSITION. That needs to not exist, and I don't see that ever happening so long as Ludinus exists as well. Edit: Well, you basically said what I meant in a different way, lol.

#critical role #critrole #critrole spoilers #critical role spoilers #episode 126 #caleb widogast #astrid beck #eadwulf #veth brenatto #nott the brave #trent ikithon #ludinus da'leth #essek thelyss #cerberus assembly #meta #fjord stone #thisconversationwasallovertheplacehowdoitagthis

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ghostmartyr · 4 years

Text

SnK 131 Thoughts

Eren what the fuck.

Like.

What in the actual fuck, my dude.

There are parts of this that make sense.

Then there are the parts that absolutely do not, and it’s all wrapped up in this chapter where, as previous chapter posts predicted, people are screaming and dying.

Since that’s pretty much the majority of the content, I guess we have the luxury of a short post that almost entirely focuses on Eren.

With added Annie and Armin. They can go at the start, I guess. They exist, they are cute if you’re into that, they’re also dumb and mopey if you’re into that, Paths make for a great radio, and just generally

WHAT THE FUCK, EREN.

Did I already talk about Rebellion? Is that a thing I did in these past few months? -checks- Damn it. Not that the well can’t be visited again, since it’s very obviously appropriate, but twice in two months starts to look like the laziness that is indeed threatening to take me.

-spins the wheel-

Okay then, let’s talk about Anakin Skywalker.

Cool dude. Rad kid. Born into slavery. Freed from slavery by a dude with magical plot magic who immediately dies. Inherits dude’s desire for him to follow the leanings of the religious sect responsible for plot magic. Has hormones and has a meltdown over having hormones, and also feelings, and proceeds to protect everything he loves so hard that it burns to the ground while someone he eventually throws into a pit laughs maniacally in the background.

It’s mainly that last part that is arguably relevant to today.

Anakin is terrified of losing his wife in childbirth. Instead of contacting a doctor, he decides that it’s best to rely on himself. Plus shady mentor. His fear turns into a longing for a power to destroy that fear, and the combination drives him to the Dark Side. When he starts demolishing the very things he wanted to protect, he digs in deeper. For twenty years, he kills, and kills, and kills, because he can’t admit he was wrong.

(Clone Wars is a good show, if anyone is interested. It fleshes the emotional weight of the script out, and makes the horror and tragedy stab you in the heart.)

I can’t say that I entirely hate this for Eren. I don’t particularly like how it’s been presented, but that might just be the part of me that looks at the “GENOCIDE IS THE ONLY OPTION” button lit up on his forehead and finds it so fundamentally disagreeable that I haven’t been looking at it even when the plot tells me that’s what it is.

Here’s the thing: Genocide is presented as a feasible course of action all throughout this series. From Zeke, from Marley, from Paradis; whoever’s pitch you want to listen to, a conclusion everyone always comes to is that it would be easier if all of these people causing problems would just die.

They can make that happen. They have the technology.

Marley is a cesspit. The moral cost means nothing to them.

Zeke is abused, traumatized, and molded into thinking death is a mercy.

Floch survives, and teaches himself that the evil he lives through needs to be repaid in full.

Kill, kill, kill. If something stands in your way, murder it.

This is a concept of horror to the characters who are establishing the moral center of the tale. They’ve killed people. They’ve fought to the death against people who would gladly see them die. The titans are their victimized kin, and all they can do for the greater good is put them down.

They’re tiny humans trapped in a cage, and they’re just trying to get out. Whenever they try, their jailers try to eat them. That is forever what Paradis is attempting, and whenever they do try to lessen the amount of violence in their tactics, they get fucked over by the plot. As much as the story can, it’s thrown the main Paradis cast into the light of being innocent victims who are just trying to defend themselves.

The whole series is a study in the damage genocide has caused.

Nothing excuses it.

There is no motive that justifies this scale of premeditated violence.

There is the fear that one day the people who belong to you will be victims, and the only way to stop them from being victims is to make victims of everyone else. Kill or be killed.

In self-defense.

Defending from an attack that might never come.

Genocide is not an option that has ever deserved a seat at the table.

Why don’t we just kill everyone off?

Why not erase everyone’s memories of it?

Why not continue to use this power to herd everyone into our vision of what the world should be like?

Why not say that we deserve life so much more than any other living creature on the planet?

The entire story tells us why.

From the very first chapter, we’re exposed to the violence and terror of an uncaring world devouring anyone unfortunate enough to be on the outskirts of what supposedly greater people have decided is most important. Eren’s entire home is destroyed because some children kick down a wall. The people in the core of those same walls are disturbed, but send out their lesser to be fed to the monsters so that they can continue living.

Karl Fritz locks everyone away on an island and tells them the world has ended.

Anyone who is too curious, or too interested in beginning a new world, is killed. They’re robbed of their memories or their life. The remaining Ackermans are alive because they were too far away from the true history of the world to actually know anything.

Marley, the whipping boy of the Eldian Empire, finds its escape through Karl’s mercy, and immediately mimics the way of life that has caused them so much pain. Titans continue to run rampant in the world, simply with different reins. They redefine what’s acceptable based on who’s pulling the trigger.

Every single major plot point comes back to the ruin that perpetrating genocide has conceived.

Nothing is fixed by saving Marley from Eldia. Marley chooses to renew the evil.

Nothing is fixed by Karl walking away from the world. He just picks on smaller targets.

Nothing is fixed by pretending this is a solution.

The series’ history is a cycle of people grabbing power and tormenting their enemies with it. It shows no sign of stopping. It takes Paradis a hundred years, but they go from a blank slate of a starting point to producing someone ready to destroy the world.

Nothing suggests that another hundred years won’t do the same.

We have seen this all before. The only difference is that Eren is trying to commit to a large enough scale that no one alive will have the kind of grudges that will produce this fuckery.

It is vile.

This is not a defensible course of action. Some things are simply wrong, and even without morality coming into play, we’ve spent years reading an object lesson in the consequences of this behavior.

This horror is where Eren comes from.

Eren is not special.

He is a normal human born into this world.

His actions are ones that any other person could duplicate.

Not easily, and not without a great deal of coincidence, but nothing about Eren makes this a choice that only he can make. His power is borrowed, and no matter how he dies, that death means there will be a next person in line.

He isn’t ending a fucking thing. He’s become a cog in the machine that broke him.

So that’s the starting point. Even if killing younglings did have a logical undercurrent, no. No, no, a million times no. Eren chooses this. Eren causes this. Eren picks genocide without anyone putting a gun to his head. Eren picks genocide when he has access to a power that could easily discourage anyone from attacking his home for years.

He chooses to murder people.

Because he’s afraid, and because he can.

Then we get to what I find infinitely more interesting:

Eren doesn’t want this.

In the present day, we have an Eren who no longer has a body, and what amounts to a hallucination of his younger self, dreaming of a world hidden away in a book. His physical self has its eyes closed, and his younger self looks more alive than Eren has in ages. He isn’t looking at the damage he causes, just the open sky.

In the past, we have Eren bawling apologies to a boy he meets once. We have an Eren who realizes that this world is one that has let him down, and that, completely outside protecting his home, is what makes him want it gone.

This doesn’t just happen.

Eren wants it to happen.

Eren looks at this world that wants him and everyone like him dead, and he wants it to be like the book. No mention of other people -- other people aren’t in the outside world anymore. Just beautiful scenery, and the freedom to enjoy it.

He can’t have that, and it hurts. He’s been through Annie, Reiner, and Bertolt. He’s lost friends and seen even more people die protecting him. He’s lost limbs and sleep and sanity to see a world beyond the walls.

It’s a world that wants nothing to do with him.

And Eren, who has rejected that line of thinking since he was a child, rejects the entire world.

He can’t dress it up.

Deep down, he doesn’t like the world he’s going to destroy.

He’s known for four years that he’s going to end countless lives.

He walks off Paradis’ ship knowing that.

But when he sees this world, he does want it gone.

Knowing what he’s going to do is one thing; seeing the beginning of a reason for it is what drives him to his knees. It isn’t some strange inevitability of the future. He’s the one who does this, and behind every bit of love for his friends and Paradis, there’s the knowledge that this world, where so many people live lives just like his, is one he’d liked better in a dream where none of them existed.

And that is where the plot thread loses me.

Not because any of this is something that I find particularly outlandish. There’s a plain, hysterical logic to it, and a small fraction of identifying with that logic has Eren in tears.

Eren does this.

There is no evidence of him wanting it.

He sees the shadow of want in himself, and he freaks out.

Eren of the present is dissociating so hard I don’t view his childhood hallucinations as a stable mind choosing something.

Eren of the past is continually horrified that this is going to happen.

If I had a tablet, this is where there would be a bad drawing of present Eren and past Eren, linked by an unstable line of red question marks.

I don’t have a tablet.

I do have Paint.

In the immortal words of an angry fictional nine-year-old, “If you don’t fight, we can’t win.”

In the immortal words of a very sad fictional nineteen-year-old, “I don’t know when in the future it will happen... But I... am going to kill every one of these people...”

Eren going full villain is a choice, I guess. It’s not a very interesting one. As previously stated, we know what happens in this world when people do a genocide. We also know what happens when the walls go marching. We are now watching a genocide as the walls go marching. There are no revelations here. There’s death and gloom.

I mean this as sincerely as I can: This, on its face, is boring.

Eren is just the latest person killing people for Reasons.

There is very little reason to be invested in that as a plot. As a character drama, there are tears to be shed and hearts to be torn asunder, but as a basic plot??? This has nothing in it.

I don’t personally believe we’ve come this far for nothing, so I apply my magnifying glass where I choose, and where I choose is the part where I believe this all slips:

Eren takes his visions as an inevitability.

He has the conversation with himself, counting out the lives. Paradis versus the world. In a simple game of numbers, the world should win, and he knows that.

Presenting our problem.

Eren can’t accept a future where Paradis, and Eldians, are sacrificed for the world. Paradis is his home, and he’s spent his life fighting for Eldians to be free, even if he doesn’t know them by that name for most of it. In the case of Paradis v World, Paradis wins out. It’s wrong and it’s terrible, and Zeke’s plan means less dead bodies, but he can’t let go of Paradis.

A binary is presented. Paradis can live, or the rest of the world can. Pick one.

Except that’s stupid.

Following this, Eren leans so far into that choice that he does what he can to manufacture an impossibility of any other results. He makes Paradis a priority. He makes Paradis an international concern, not simply a Marley one. He has the power to knock back any assault on the island they can make, but he still goes on offense.

Paradis dies

World dies

That is not the choice. It is the choice Eren locks himself into, but frankly, he doesn’t even try before he jumps at the genocide route.

As a story thing, whatever. Valid, I guess. Let the protagonist’s own misconceptions break him.

As an Eren thing, it falls short of working.

He’s clearly being torn apart by what he’s going to do.

He’s a protagonist who enters the story yelling about people never winning if they don’t enter the ring.

Eren sees a vision of him destroying the world, thinks on it, and effectively goes, “seems legit,” and cries himself to sleep feeling sad about it.

Eren.

You can have your characters fail. You can have them drop their principles one by one until there’s nothing left. You can have their character development be entirely negative. You do not have to have your hero be a Hero.

Eren is appalled by his own feelings, and walking around the world like a zombie. He sees himself ending the world, and plays it back over and over again, never questioning that this is exactly what he’s going to do.

But when he finally starts, there’s not even a trace of this conflict. His eyes light up at the amazing sight he believes is waiting for him. He spits his defiance at Zeke for even suggesting the sterilization plan. He’s still a zombie in every human interaction that happens with his flesh body, but he goes about his plan with an unconcerned ruthlessness that is disconnected from the humanity Eren has spent the whole story personifying.

Arguably, Sasha dying is the tipping point, and that’s where he fully commits, and blah blah blah stuff.

Only defiance, and not bending to anyone else’s will, is the key trait of the Attack Titan. It’s the key trait of Eren. To keep fighting well beyond sense.

This plan’s inception comes from Eren yielding to the inevitable.

He’s going to kill these people.

There is no choice to it, it’s simply what’s going to happen.

Eren has always had a choice. He might not like the options, or know what’s right, but he has always, always known that the decisions he makes are his.

The story is making the case that Eren buys into inevitability so completely that he denies himself freedom.

That isn’t uninteresting, but we don’t see that. We don’t see what convinces Eren that it’s no use fighting. He chooses to save a boy, and his memories of the boy don’t change. Big deal. That’s one kid in four years of choices. As a proof of concept, it’s weak, and it’s weaker still because Eren makes the choice to save him.

None of this was inevitable, but we approach Eren’s actions from the perspective of there being no way out. Maybe if we had even more flashbacks to him trying to change things, and a play-by-play of him slowly realizing that nothing he does changes what he sees --

But even then, if Eren doesn’t want to kill people, he’s allowed not to. He’s allowed to continue working with his friends. He could have told any of them, at any point, that this was an upcoming problem. He’s always trusted Armin’s mind.

Eren hides himself away with his problems and tells himself he can’t fight this.

Bullshit.

I’ve made this argument before, about Historia and Ymir:

If you’re going to have a character renege on a core of their personal identity so completely, you need to put in the legwork of showing how it happens. Otherwise there’s no reason to trust anything the story tells you, and the grand illusion falls to pieces.

The character work in this series has always been solid, even when everything down to the art hasn’t.

This doesn’t quite work.

There’s a compelling case. There’s a viewable logic that pretends to be believable.

The internal consistency is still off. Something’s wrong here, and if it turns out to be the character ball being dropped in the final inning... really, that’s just such a waste. Personal preference colors all of this, obviously, but if this is the whole truth of the matter, it’s boring.

“I still want to believe... that there’s still a world we don’t know about yet out there... past the walls.”

C’mon, Armin. Earn your fandom hatred. Be right one more time.

We’re not done yet.

#Shingeki no Kyojin #SnK 131 #Eren Yeager #shingeki no spoilers #SnK spoilers #spoilers #tl;dr #chapter post

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the-sympathetic-villain · 4 years

Text

Choking in the Dark

AO3 | Next | Masterpost

Description: The prompt for this one-shot is this animatic, "Wires" by Anna Midnight, which I highly recommend you watch before reading.

Characters: Logan, Remus Word Count: 2769 Chapter Warnings: Heavy Angst, Choking, Self-Esteem Issues/Self-Deprecation, Injuries, Dark but Not Necessarily Unsympathetic sides, Abandonment, Self-Harm, Angst with an okay(?) ending (Let me know if I need to add anything!)

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

I can’t breathe.

Hours.

How many hours?

I've been here for so long.

Logan's lungs ached. On his knees, he hung his head. The weight of his head pulling against the thick rubber cable around his neck, making it even harder to breath. He stayed there for a moment, swaying as he ignored the voice in the back of his mind screamed for air.The voice became increasingly persistent until he was forced to raise his head as the edges of his vision blurred.

It doesn't matter.

Thick wires cut deep into his wrists, a solemn comfort that he was even alive. The fading had started hours ago, starteing in the tips of his fingers and slowly claiming his body. He held up his hand. The translucent appearance of his digits a metaphorical punch to the gut as he jerked his head, the wire around his neck tightening like a noose.

I'll do you all a favor and spare you my company.

If he'd known the words would be some of his last, he would have chosen a subject more interesting to lecture on than Peter Singer's take one Effective Altruism. He could have talked about anything. Astronomy, chemistry—The others barely acknowledged his contributions as it stood. The topics may not have been relevant, but at least he would have been able to choose the lesson.

His last lesson.

Logan whimpered as the thick wire tightened around his neck, cutting into the already raw skin. He wheezed a stiff breath against the heavy piece of rubber threatening to crush his windpipe.

Not that it would have had an impact on any of them.

The piles of dust scattered across the floor around him remained a stark reminder that his words fell flat on the ears of those he most needed to hear them. Thomas—His friends—

If that's even what they consider me at this point.

After all, he was here. No one had noted his absence in the hours he'd been gone.

Why would they?

Clearly, his words were so unnecessary they should simply be skipped. He growled breathlessly in frustration as the binds around his wrists pulled taut. His arms were stretched out, pulled upward like some sort of sick marionette hanging limply on his knees. He glared into the empty space around him. His ‘room' as the others loved to refer to their personal corners of Thomas' mind. His room. The awe-inspiring place had once been full of chemistry books and stars and all the little things that made Thomas curious. Logan had been collecting them since Thomas was a child, but it was gone, turned to piles of dust around his room as Thomas' search for knowledge fall further and further out of his mind.

Unimportant.

Just like him.

He couldn’t help the sick smirk on his face as the wires tightened once more around his throat, jerking his head upright. He swallowed a shallow breath, barely drawing oxygen as his airway strained to remain open.

Unwanted.

Logan snarled bitterly as memories surfaced forcefully in his mind.

Not that any of you care, but I am unharmed—

I'll do you all a favor and spare you my company—

His own words from this video echoed in his mind as he choked on his own breath. Only Patton had objected, but his protests were weak and quickly forgotten. If one thing was clear, it was that his contributions were neither wanted, nor needed anymore.

They'll finally get what they've wanted all along—

Logan groaned as the wires pulled on his wrists and his shoulders ached, barely holding place in the sockets against the strain of the heavy cords threatening to pull him to pieces.

His life was a small price for them to pay for him to finally be silenced.

Roman wouldn't have to shut him up when he started rambling anymore. Virgil wouldn't have the added stress of convincing him that Thomas' fears were valid. Patton wouldn't have to feign the moral obligation of treating him like an equal, like he actually had a seat at the table. Thomas—Logan choked back a sob—Thomas wouldn't have to feel guilty about pursuing what actually made him happy.

This is for the best.

After all, I already see how worthless my life had become—

Logan’s head jerked up at the sound of a sinister snicker. “Well, well, well—Look who's wandered a little too far from the light. I didn't take you for the bondage type, teach.”

He watched as Remus stepped out of the shadows, a menacing grin on his face as he approached. Logan scowled as Remus kicked through the piles of dust, scatter the last remnants of the things he once loved. “What are you doing here, Remus?”

“What am I doing here?” Remus cackled maniacally. “Oh, no, no, no. The better question is what are you doing on the dark side?”

“The dark—” A cry past Logan’s lips as the wires around his wrist jerked once more, dislocating his right shoulder. He groaned, daggers in his eyes as he glared at Remus. “You know what?”

Remus tilted his head at Logan, a show of mock concern as he brushed through yet another pile of dust.

“Fuck your questions.” Logan spat. “Leave me alone. The least the rest of you owe me is to let me fade away in peace.”

“You ought to watch that mouth of yours or you're going to disappoint the cardigan-clad killjoy. Besides, what are you going to do about it?” Remus giggled as Logan glared, stepping forward and waving his hand through Logan’s phantom limb. “Ghost me?”

Fire burned in Logan’s eyes as he stared at Remus, knowing he was helpless. Trapped, as Remus walked free to do as he pleased.

“So, nerdy wolverine,” Logan looked up as Remus leaned close to his face. “What happened to my invite to the pity party?”

“This isn't my doing,” Logan hissed, losing steam. “Thomas’ subconscious is pulling me back. I—I've outlived my purpose.”

“Pulling you back seems like an understatement. It looks to me like you’re about to be pulled to shreds—” Remus smirked, leaning against the wall behind him nonchalantly. “—and don’t get me wrong. I’m all about watching Thomas' mind tear you into little pieces, but you’re supposed to be pretty important for the big guy, right? Seems to me like Thomas is supposed to need you more than those other dorks on the light side.”

Logan gritted his teeth. “Clearly, you’re mistaken. They are managing perfectly well without me.”

“Oh, now I do sense a little bitterness.” Remus purred. “Maybe he's not so resigned as he looks.”

“Your point is null, Remus. My existence is of little consequence to anyone and the subconscious has made its decision.” Logan wheezed numbly, tears in his eyes as he tried to move his fingers, desperately hoping they were still there. “This is happening, whether I want it to or not.”

"Oh, I don't know." Remus mused absently. "I don't think all of that is true."

“What?” Logan strained painfully against the thick cord around his neck to turn his head to catch a glance at Remus.

“I wouldn’t say no one wants you around.”

Logan swallowed painfully, dropping his gaze in shame as tears brimmed in his eyes. “The others—”

“Screw the others.” Remus smirked as Logan stared a him. “I meant me.”

Logan froze, temporarily stunned as his limbs went limp in their binds. “You—you want me around?”

“Now, don't get all sappy on me, teach, but the others aren't as much fun to play with. They roll over to easy.” Remus wiggled his eyebrows at him and giggled as Logan stared blankly at him. “Not you though. You gave me a run for my money last time, and—and we made a good team. Didn't we?”

“What?” Logan winced as Remus raised a hand to his neck, staring at the wires digging into his skin. His fingertips brushed the edge of the wire's tight grip and the red, raw skin burned painfully at his touch, but the contact—the contact felt nice.Tears streaked down his face as emotions welled in his chest. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been touched so gently.

“We may have opposed each other, but really that was the only way to get through to Thomas and it worked.” Remus sighed, and Logan could see the sadness in his eyes as he pulled his hand back, looking into Logan's eyes. “I couldn't have done that without you. The rest of them would never have seen past the darkness in me.”

Logan stared blankly down at Remus for a long moment, before his purpose kicked in. “The others are unnecessary blinded by their narrow view of moral. The concepts of light and dark are arguably meaningless. Assigning actions as good or evil only serves our biases and our internal need for affirmation of our own moral value—” Logan nearly bit down on his tongue as Remus raised an eyebrow at him. “—I'm sorry. I'm rambling.”

“I didn’t stop you, teach." Remus smirked. "I would gladly listen to you ramble about light and dark for hours.”

Logan blinked in surprise. For the first time in a long time, he actually believed someone was genuinely interested in his thoughts. He stared blankly at Remus until another tight squeeze of the wires caused his vision to blur. His head swayed, the lack of oxygen contributing to his fading consciousness.

“Unfortunately, I don't think we have the time right now.” Remus glanced at him nervously. “The subconscious has nearly claimed you."

“It's too late.” Logan wheezed, tears streaming down his face as he prepared for the mysterious edge of Thomas' mind to pull him apart.

“The subconscious could have just taken you.”

“What?”Logan cracked his eyes open at Remus' solemn whisper, nearly hyper ventilating from the strain to pull in enough oxygen to keep him conscious.

“You could have disappeared on the light side, but it brought you here.” Remus looked up at the wires trailing infinitely into the mind palace above them.

Logan wearily stared up at him, black oblivion tugging at his vision as his head swayed. “So?”

“So, do you want to live, Logan?” Logan barely felt as Remus grabbed his collar.

Logan wheezed, exhaustion hanging onto his body as the pain intensified.

“I need an answer, Logan.”

Logan closed his eyes, oblivion pulling at him as he whispered breathlessly. “Yes.”

“Alright,” Logan felt Remus drop his collar as he took a step back. “Forgive me for this.”

“Wha—” Logan’s statement was cut off as Remus' knuckles connected with his temple. His head was jerked to the side and the welts on his neck burned like fire from the sudden movement.

"Time to taste what you’re made of, Lo!”

Logan’s head jerked up as he lurched forward furiously. White hot rage surged through his veins as he bit bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

What kind of sick bastard punches someone as they're dying.

His hands hung loosely at his sides as he screamed at Remus. “You piece of—What are you trying to do to—”

Wait. Loosely?

The realization lasted only a moment before a second fist connected with his cheekbone. All rational thought left his mind as fury filled his being and he lunged forward at Remus. He cried out as his dislocated shoulder connected with Remus' chest, toppling him over. He gasped as he hit the ground and pain lit up across his body as his bruises and welts all connected with the ground with a loud thud.

“Shit, Lo. You knocked the breath right out of me.” Logan could hear the sounds of Remus shuffling next to him. “Hold on. I've got you.”

Logan felt Remus roll him over and he moaned in pain at the forced movement as his back settled on the cold ground.

“I know, Lo, but I've got to set your arm before you do some permanent damage.” Remus whispered gently. “Are you ready? On 3. 1—2—”

Logan's vision went white as pain shot through his body and his consciousness faded briefly. No times seemed to pass, but as he opened his eyes a moment, he found himself curled in Remus' arms. A quick glance down revealed that creative side had used his signature green sash to fashion a makeshift sling for his arm. He stared down at the gentle attention Remus had shown him and he couldn’t help but smile.

Brilliant—

Logan cut off his thought with a sudden gasp. His uninjured hand shot to his neck, feeling—nothing. Tears streamed down his face as he looked up to Remus. “ The wires. Th-they’re gone.”

I'm free.

“Sorry about the black eye I gave you to get you out of there.” Remus smirked as Logan looked up from his shaking hands, running his free hand through his hair as he looked away evasively as Logan stared at him. “I normally try to get permission before I get rough, but—”

“You did that for me.” Logan's mouth hung open as he traced the deep indents in his arms where the wires had constricted his wrists.

Remus shrugged. “It wasn't noth—"

Logan sucked in a breath, going limp with the realization that someone cared enough to intervene. “It most certainly is something, Remus. Those wires—they've bound me for years. I don't think I even remember a time when they weren't—” Logan clenched his teeth, feeling the wet streaks mix with the blood from his lip running down his face. The realization of what just happened hit him all at once and he choked back a sob. “You saved my life.”

“Nah,” Remus brushed him off. “You did all the real work. Everyone’s got a little light and dark in ‘em, right? I just antagonized that little spark of anger in you until you went full Mr. Hyde to your usual Dr. Jekyll. A little push and the dark side accepted you.”

Logan blinked in shock as realization struck him. He dropped his gaze to the ground as he considered the days' events. "I'm a dark side now. Aren't I?"

"What happened to the idea that light and dark are arguably meaningless, nutty professor?" Remus giggled before turning serious. “Don't worry. You're not stuck with me. The subconscious’ grip on you is gone if you want to go back—”

“Don't make me go back, Re.”

Remus stared at Logan pleaded up at him. “Lo, you can stay, if you want, but Virgil’s gone. I'm pretty sure Janus checked out after the last vid. It's just me down here and I snore—”

“Remus, in the last ten minutes, you've shown me more humanity than any of the others have in years,” Anger flashed in Logan's eyes as he slowly straightened to his feet, glancing around the room. The piles of dust were gone, revealing a polished concrete floor, a blank canvas. “It all makes sense now.”

“What does” Remus paused and watched as Logan stood. With a devilish smirk, he brushed off the the dust of his shirt. The last remnants of the his empathy fading into oblivion.

Emotions. I always knew they were simply a nuisance.

“I couldn’t help Thomas from the light side. The rules, the niceties…They were preventing me from fulfilling my purpose. I need to be more forceful. More persistent. More angry” Logan looked up to see the night sky above them, an illusion of the mind palace and the beginning of a new chapter. A bitter smile spread across Logan's face as the dark clouds swirled above them, allowing only a sprinkling of stars to show through. “Don't you see, Remus? I need to make them listen. I need to make Thomas listen.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at him suspiciously. “You’re actually staying?”

A mischievous smile spread across Logan’s face as he watched items creep slowly up out of the floor, his room now feeling much like he'd had before. A desk, a globe. The room filled to the brim with bookshelves. Everything returned to his room just like before was except—a little darker, a little colder and about as welcoming as the sinister smile spreading across his face. “Yes, I think I'm going to get comfortable here, Remus.”

Remus matches his smile, giggling manically. “Ah yes, Lo. Let's burn this place to the ground!”

Free. He was free at last.

Logan chuckled, smiling at the wonderful man beside him. “Yes, Re, let's do just that.”

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts logan #ts remus #questionable logan #questionable remus #angst #tw choking #tw self harm #tw self deprecation #choking in the dark #villain writes

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timextoxhajima · 4 years

Text

HOSTIS, Chapter VI: Venerem, Aphrodite

Previous Chapter (V: Monitum)

Member: Lee Hyunjae (tbz)

Genre (by chapter): comedy, drama, angst?

Category: Short Novel/Long Series

zeus has sent me my aphrodite, and there’s no way i’m going to let her go.

fucking ares

where the fuck were you when i needed you?

motherfucker--

"are you alright? you look a little pale," the cab driver scans you through the rear mirror, and you force a polite smile to display on your face.

if i wasn't fucking pummeled by the other ares last night, i wouldn't even BE in this damn cab.

"i'm alright, just feeling a little... crampy. that's all."

the cab driver nods and returns his attention to the road, your eyes travelling out the window to see the hospital building hiding behind some other architecture a distance away.

walking from the cab to your office in the neurology department without looking like you were stabbed in the abdomen was arguably the hardest task in the entire time you've been alive. on top of that, you failed.

your empty office greets you with a little dull wave of work, the clouds outside beginning to cry, as though mocking your plight. the first thing you do when you get to your desk was to turn on the classical music, which was the only thing you've been listening to since you went to bed.

cleaning yourself after being utterly smashed into pieces was so humiliating, even if you were alone when you did it.

the white coat finds your shoulders and your eyes flutter shut as you leaned back into your seat, the soft pitter-patter outside your window adding on to the peace and calm and tranquility of the--

"morning!"

motherfucker.

your eyes shoot wide open with horror flashbacks, and lucifer struts across the length of your office and into his. your lungs max out with a deep breath, your eyes closing again while your fingers search for your case which contained the slightly crumpled report you stole from the previous day.

the muscles in your pelvis aches the moment you stand up, and a soft wince shows itself on your face, the reflection of the pain staring right back at you in the black screen of your computer.

deliberately inhaling a large breath and exhaling through a little 'o' you made with your lips, it was a struggle to remember the last time you had difficulty gathering your courage to do something you didn't want to do.

his shadow just about sat down in his seat when you pushed your way into the office. you keep the door open with one foot against the door and one shoulder outside the room, and you hold out the report in your left hand.

you keep your head aligned with your body, and you were staring past the width of the door in your face, your eyes refusing to budge from its current line of sight.

"aren't people going to wonder why you're halfway into my office rather than you actually being in it?"

was having a break from detest, hatred, resentment, anger, displeasure, discontent -- a raging fire -- so hard to get?

reluctantly, you pull the rest of your body away from outside and into the office, trying to light your eyes on fire while you turned your attention to him.

he looked so prim and proper with his styled up hair and stupid white coat... it disgusted you to even watch him pretend like he didn't snap your spirit into half just about twelve hours ago.

he folds his arms across his chest and raises a cocky brow, eyes trailing to the stack of paper in your hand.

"this is yours," you hold it out to him, your glare shooting imaginary lazers into his chest where his heart would be. "take it back. i don't want your shit lying around in my office."

a scoff was barely heard, and he walks around his desk to the front, leaning his hip on the edge while he fiddles with the stationery on it.

"well, why don't you come here and give it to me?"

your glare hardens, but the smug look on his face remains. "don't push your luck."

his arrogant chin tilts upwards a little, giving you a better view of his nostrils while he crosses his arms across his chest again. he puckers his lips and furrows his brows while scanning you, the innocent blinking only fueling the pissed-off ares in you.

"well, if you're not gonna come here and give it to me then how else am i going to get it?"

a muscle in your right cheek twitches, and his stupid doctor-qualified eyes catch it.

"unless you're telling me you can't walk this distance of what, five steps?"

"no, i just don't want to bother walking to you."

"oh, really? so you bothered to fight through the pain in between your legs to get here, but not bothered enough to hand my work, which you took by the way, back to me?"

this piece of shit.

"whatever i do is none of your fucking business. it never has been and never will be. i'm just here to mend my mistake of taking what was yours," the little speech and false apology flies off your tongue in sharp, succinct words and how you wish they were each a dragonstar being hurled into his face.

ares fuels your resentment for you to physically challenge him, and you throw the stack of sheets at him.

lucifer was not one bit amused when the report landed on the ground just about a metre away from his crossed feet. the pens in your coat pockets gets twirled and rolled around between your fingers while you ready yourself to turn around.

"you know what? i don't need it anymore anyway... since doctor kim already got both our files. no point for me to submit a report separately, right?"

your knuckles were unconsciously turning white with the harsh grip you were giving the door handle. if you put any more energy into it, you would've snapped the metal handle right off the glass.

"besides, you were just looking out for me, weren't you?"

the pens in your pocket get rounded up in your palm and you've barely gotten them out of the pocket when the words fly out your mouth first.

"you're such a--"

"good morning," the familiar voice strikes from behind you, and the muscles in your arm holding the pens freeze. you whip your head over your shoulder and see doctor choi's head poking through the gap of the office door and the glass wall, his eyes scanning the both of you over the rims of his spectacles.

"getting along well, i see," he comments kindly, maybe sarcastically, you couldn't tell, as lucifer bends down to pick up the report and places it on his desk.

"very well, just discussing about the research reports we submitted to doctor kim yesterday."

"i see," doctor choi nods and you take a step away from the door in case he wanted to come in, but an aching muscle cuts through your abdomen like a small knife and your entire body twitches a little in pain.

"anyway, doctor kim has requested for me to invite you to welcome a research intern joining us today. he'll be with us for two months, so don’t be surprised if doctor kim wants you to work with him every now and then.”

“okay, are we meeting him now?” lucifer’s voice gets nearer to you from the back, and his presence starts to loom over yours.

"the two of you are, i have rounds to make that i’m sure the both of you have already made yourself familiar with the procedures,” doctor choi looks at his watch. “i do believe the intern will be here soon, so why don’t the two of you scoot over to the north wing... and i gotta bolt. ”

doctor choi waves and leaves abruptly, leaving the door to close right before your eyes. your attention zooms in on the reflection of the frosted glass, and lucifer stops right next to you, orbs of triumph and pride looking down at you.

the refusal to look at him was crushed when his fingers find your chin and tilts it towards him, the sudden contact triggering a sense of displeasure as you remove your face from his hold.

“don’t touch me.”

his lips pull apart and his teeth shines at you, and he blinks like he knew your deepest darkest secret.

which he unfortunately does.

“it’s alright,” he hums as he reaches for the metal handle on the door. “say whatever you want to say, but we both know how easy for it to... reverse that thought.”

he pulls the door open and stands back against it, one arm gesturing out to you as his service smile pulls up onto his face. “ladies first.”

physical pain was suddenly made all the more worse in the five minute walk from the neurology offices in the east to the research department in the north. every move your legs made only made the ache between your thighs ache, and it really felt like you were constantly being given a punch in the gut with every step you took.

most people who saw you would’ve probably noticed you were walking strangely, but of course, nothing much comes to mind.

but when lee hyunjae sees it, it’s like watching a comedy; it’s like watching his very own masterpiece strut round on two legs. he was walking behind you the entire time, and despite the deafening silence between the two of you, you’d hear a soft scoff or arrogant snicker from behind you.

not only did it hurt your pride and fuel your resentment towards him, but it also made you feel so powerless, so physically resigned and degraded in his eyes; in your own eyes.

now that he’s roamed his hands all over your skin in places he shouldn’t even have touched, you couldn’t forget it, or at least, your body couldn’t.

there was no way to decide if you were more humiliated because he broke you, or that that you even begged to come.

the lift of the north wing finally reaches the floor where the research department was, and you walk out almost like you were walking in heels. the steps behind you quicken as he overtakes you, his lips dangerously close to your ears when he whispers words that you would’ve sliced his tongue off for saying.

“later, when the intern sees you, try not to make it so obvious that you were fucked hard last night.”

the temples in your forehead tighten and your jaw locks when you clench your teeth together. the smile on his face was so tempting to rip off, all you wanted to do was to ram a fire extinguisher into his balls.

“good morning, doctor kim!” the greeting was so annoyingly loud and cheerful, it irked you to even hear his voice.

“ah, there you are!” the bright grin on doctor kim’s face was so hearty and welcoming, all you wanted to do was to hug him and complain that lee hyunjae was bullying you.

“i was getting worried that doctor choi wouldn’t let the two of you come to meet the intern. he’s on his way up right now, and i’m so excited to be around young people again,” he balls his fists and hops a little on the spot. lucifer smiles and takes the initiative to wipe a small puddle of dried coffee off his desk, and the mild gesture was disturbingly comforting.

“the good old days,” doctor kim falls back into his chair and turns himself in circles, his eyes plastered to the ceiling but it wasn’t long before you could tell he was starting to get dizzy.

lucifer gently runs his palm on the top of the chair to slow it down, and he pats the elderly doctor on the shoulder with a soft smile. “don’t think you should be trying to hurl out your breakfast right before meeting the intern, doctor.”

the wrinkles extend themselves along his forehead and features when a sheepish smile spreads across his face, and you purse your lips in attempt to hide your soft side.

“you’ve got a point there, doctor lee,” he rubs the back of his neck before hyunjae helps him to his feet, holding onto his arms the way you were trained to hold a frail patient to his feet.

“what are you doing holding me like that!” the elderly doctor berates hyunjae, but he doesn’t let go.

“you were spinning in circles and got dizzy just seconds ago!” hyunjae’s arm wraps around doctor kim’s shoulders to stabilise him before letting him go. “wouldn’t want you to pass out or something before the intern comes.”

doctor kim huffs and waves him off while hyunjae removes his hands off him. the ring of the lift steals all of your attention, and a lost looking young man exits through the doors when they open. staff members flood out onto the floor from behind him while he stares at some file in his hand, a lanyard around his neck that said ‘RESEARCH INTERN’.

“you must be son young jae!” the enthusiastic call-out startles you when doctor kim nearly yells at the top of his voice. the young man turns in response to the name, and a bright, gleaming smile provides you with the view of his teeth and adorable half-folded eyes.

“are you doctor kim... ryuk hoon?” he questions as the two walk towards each other, leaving lucifer and you in doctor kim’s cubicle to observe the situation.

you were worried the two were just going to stand in the middle of the pathway while the elder doctor checks his administrative forms for the internship, because you sure as hell didn’t want lucifer to start whispering nonsense in your ear like some demon in the night.

thank god doctor kim wraps his arm around the intern and walks him over to the two of you and does the introductions.

“this is doctor l/n y/n and doctor lee hyunjae of the neurology department. they are both still in their two weeks of mentoring under the neurology department head but they are also attached to the research department because of their credentials in med-school,” the young man reaches out to you first, and you politely shake his hand. your eyes meet, and his smile gets a tad bit wider.

the way his eyes halved when he smiled was so admirable, you almost wanted to pull him into a hug and pat him on the head.

the intern moves on to shake lucifer’s hand, and you see again that pinch of disgust in his eyes when he touches a hand that just touched yours.

“this is son young jae, and he’ll be with us for two months. i might end up putting the three of you in a research project team at some point of time in these two months, provided your boss won’t kill me,” he directs the last statement at both you and lucifer, and a laugh shrugs it off.

“oh, it’s great to be here-- it’s great to meet all of you! doctor kim can call me young jae but the two of you can call me eric. that’s usually how i introduce myself to people closer to my age to make it less awkward.”

“is that your english name or is it a nickname?” you raise a brow and watch in awe at his high levels of energy and enthusiasm.

you would’ve probably been like that if you weren’t completely fucked over from last night.

literally.

“it’s my english name! i spent a lot of my childhood in LA so most of my friends there know me as eric. young jae is reserved for whenever i come back to korea,” doctor kim takes some of the administrative sheets from him to check and confirm the internship information with his digital copies.

“oh,” you respond with slight surprise. “alright then, welcome to the research department, eric.”

“thank you!” he gives you a tight bow, and doctor kim taps on his shoulder to return him the forms. “i totally look forward to working with all of you. seriously, i’m so psyched for this stuff.”

your mouth was already open, ready to encourage his eagerness to be part of the staff, but lucifer beats you to it.

“i’m as psyched as you are, eric. welcome to the team.”

the pat lucifer offered his shoulder looked oddly stiff, and you smile at eric again to mask the slightly awkward atmosphere in the air.

doctor kim leaves eric with the both of you to help orientate him around. doctor choi came round at least twice but was shooed away by doctor kim.

“you don’t even need them to do anything much for you,” doctor kim said, both times he came round.

lunch hour arrived and doctor kim tells the both of you to bring eric to the eatery to eat up, and afterwards eric would return to the research department for instructions to being his internship officially while the two of you would finish your second last day of being a mentee.

sitting down for two hours talking to eric completely eradicated any memory of the previous night. though lucifer was right next to eric who was wedged between the two of you the entire time, all your attention chose to focus on was the way he talked about research and how much he wanted to contribute to society.

but when doctor kim started chasing the lot of you away to the eatery, standing up became a major chore.

the three of you entered the lift, and you were already prepping questions in your head to ask eric before someone decides that teasing you would be a great idea. yet, it was like the heavens sent you an angel, and he was right next to you.

“i’m sorry if i’m intruding, but are you injured somewhere? you were walking funny just now, even though the lift was barely a fifty metre walk from doctor kim’s cubicle.”

your eyes capture the glimmer of evil that flashed across lucifer’s face, and the self-restraint you needed not to throw a pen at him right infront of eric was slightly overwhelming.

“i... did some major cardio last night. obviously, it wasn’t a good idea.”

lucifer scoffs and decides to join in the conversation. “if only she knew what to do and what not to do to get herself into such excruciating pain.”

eric glances at the both of you, and his attention settles down on you again after a few moments.

“hey, if you need help with cardio or working out, i could totally give you some tips to reduce the pain. i work out a lot in my own time, so i’m fully aware of how shitty it gets when the ache settles in.”

oh. my. god.

“really?” your peripheral vision completely deletes lucifer from your view and your eyes lock with eric’s.

the lift doors open and people start walking past the group of you while eric paces his steps with yours.

“oh, totally! there’s a bunch of protein and vitamins you can take to maximize the gains from your cardio workouts. i’m gonna guess you didn’t stretch before you started,” he squints and lifts a finger at you.

a small giggle escapes your lifts at the sight, and you nod while covering your mouth.

“i knew it,” eric gives you a little punch on your arm. “most people underestimate the wonders stretching do.”

“then i guess i should start stretching before i do anything else.”

“you should never do anything without stretching,” eric’s attention starts to wither away at the stalls in the eatery, and you simply follow his line of sight to see that he naturally gravitated back to western food.

“what’s good here?” his fingers caress his chin, eyes reflecting the light off the led menu board. his jawline looked so tempting to touch, but you stop your wild thoughts by turning to look at the menu as well.

“western food’s not too bad, and the sushi’s great. but yesterday i went out to the nearby cafe to get takeaway chowder and garlic bread instead because the rest isn’t really to my taste.”

he hums in acknowledgement, eyes still running through the menu.

“so was the chowder good?” he side-eyes you with a curious brow raised, and your heart dies a little on the inside.

“not bad. i’d totally go over but i’m in more pain than i’d like to admit.”

he chuckles and shoves his hands into his pockets. “you must’ve had a swell time getting here from home.”

“it wasn’t too bad,” you shrug and the world stops when you look at eric. “i was in a cab, but the driver could tell i was about to pass out.”

“cab?” he turns to you, and both his pretty eyes come into view. “i was going to ask how you drove here with such an aching core.”

the sound of the rain outside reminds you that it was a wet day, and bolt of lightning splits the dark, grey sky into half for a split second. a violently loud clap of thunder runs through the eatery, and the sudden call from nature startles you.

“well... now i definitely wished i had my own car,” you regain your composure and pull out your phone to scroll mindlessly.

“aw, no, i’ll give you a ride after work!” he reaches both his arms out to you, gently tapping your forearm with one of his hands.

i’m gonna fucking cry--

“aw, really?” you try to mask the confirmation question with a slightly mischievous tone, but deep down, you were ready to litter kisses all over his face for being such a nice guy.

just where in the world were you going to find another eric son young jae?

“yeah, totally. what time do you get off?”

“i--”

“whoa, y/n,”

that fucking voice--

“hitting on the intern so fast?”

your lungs suck in air quickly in attempt to restraint your violent thoughts of gouging out his eyes and ripping his tongue out between his lips, your fists balling into tight fists when you turn to side-eye him.

“you clearly have no clue what hitting on looks like, do you... doctor lee?”

“oh, trust me,” eric chimes in, and a one-sided sense of protection starts to blanket over you. “i know what hitting on feels like and it’s kinda gross.”

you turn around, refusing to look at lucifer while eric continues to entertain him.

“i’m just giving her a lift back home because she’s in some sucky pain. i know how it feels so it’s just a little favour.”

a small smirk pulls your lips up your cheek, and you revel in the little acknowledgement lucifer provides eric.

the rest of the day was spent avoiding the hell out of lucifer, and you were lucky that every time doctor choi came around to look for the two of you, only one of you was needed.

six o’clock reached pretty fast and you bolted out your office door even before lucifer got out of his seat. you reach the basement where the carpark lot was, and happiness washed over you like you just died and went to heaven when you notice eric standing right at the automatic glass doors of the lift lobby.

he greets you and leads you to the car, asking you to key in your address in his phone gps while he fumbled around in his pocket for his car keys.

the vehicle beeps, and the gps loads your location on the screen. your arm was already stretched out to return the phone to him, but the whirring of the lift lobby glass doors capture your attention.

the sight of lucifer himself throws you off your already painful balance, and you kick some imaginary rock in your path.

a short, sharp yelp runs through your teeth as your center of gravity begins to tip. but eric’s arms catch you on your way down to the ground, and he hoists you up easily, naturally grabbing onto your upper arms tightly.

“jesus, are you alright? what’d you kick?” his eyes dart around on the floor. “did i trip you by accident? i’m sorry--”

“oh, no! no, no,” you straighten yourself and shift backwards, slightly embarrassed and a tad bit disappointed in yourself that you couldn’t even walk properly anymore. “i’m alright, i was just being clumsy, that’s all.”

“um, okay... well, let’s get you in the passenger’s seat first.”

eric literally supports you like you were missing a leg to the passenger’s seat, and you find the tiniest opportunity to roll your eyes at lucifer, who was still standing at the lift lobby glass doors, a look arrogance painting his face.

if you could take a knife to slice off his lips that had that smug smile off, you would’ve.

zeus has sent me my aphrodite, and there’s no way i’m going to let her go.

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

Chapter VII: Partium

#hyunjae fanfic #hyunjae #lee hyunjae #the boyz hyunjae #the boyz fanfic #the boyz #timetohajima

109 notes · View notes

carrionxcamille · 3 years

Text

A Year into Life | self para

Who: Camille... And a few margaritas Timing: Current Summary: As the 1 year anniversary of her resurrection approaches, Camille reflects, researches, and rages. Content warning: references to alcoholism and domestic abuse

Camille used to be the type of person who knew the expiry date of everything in her fridge. Mostly because she was worried that Jace would eat something off and somehow it would be her fault. But now, with her brain pulled back together by magic and other things on her mind, sometimes she forgot something at the back of the shelf. The lid on the yogurt pot told her it had expired on April 23rd. Which was… How long ago? Just a few days, she thought.

As Camille glances at the date on the calendar a memory hits her like a sack of bricks. A newspaper on a bench on a cold early morning, birds tweeting, a couple of joggers going past in the distance. Camille stumbling out of a church in someone else’s clothes with no idea where she is or what the fuck is going on.

“A year.” She whispers, horrified as the fact registers. “It’s been almost a year.” A cold shiver tingles down her spine and shakes her hands, rattling the yogurt pot she’s still holding. She sets it down on the counter and forgets about it instantly.

A year of not knowing, of near catatonia, of waking up in a cold sweat frantically feeling for her pulse, of living in a town that gets stranger and scarier by the day, of feeling like her body doesn’t belong to her anymore.

A year since she came back from the dead.

Should she… Celebrate? No. No, that was weird. Maybe a bottle of wine though. Or some margaritas, she had been looking for a good excuse to try that recipe Marley taught her. First birthday seemed like it fit the bill.

Suddenly, everything felt surreal again. Like it did when she sat in that internet cafe staring at a picture of her face and an article saying they’d found her body. Was everyone in the grocery store staring at her, or was she just paranoid? Did they know? Well, arguably, some of them probably did. Because of the mark on the back of her hand. Camille narrowed her eyes at it as she reached up to grab tequila. That stupid thing. Did it have to be on her hand? She didn’t take issue with the idea of magic- especially something as drastic as had been done to her- leaving a mark, but it was just so visible. Reminded her every time she saw it.

So she returned home and made margaritas and tried not to think about where her life had been three years ago or wonder how much her sisters still thought about her. She thought about calling someone and inviting them to join her in this evening of absurdity, but Camille didn’t really know who she would call. She really had to work on that- a whole year and no friends? That was a bit pathetic. And okay so she was out of practice because with Jace it had become easier to not have friends than to try and hold those friends far enough away that they never saw the fractures in the marriage, but still. She used to be an excellent hostess, once upon a time. Dinners and parties and gatherings and what have you. She loved floating about a room thanking all her friends for coming, chattering away about inconsequential things. Now she was alone.

After the first two margaritas that stopped mattering quite as much, and after four Camille was dancing around the living room to the Beach Boys.

Eventually, as tended to happen, the buzz of elation twisted into a drone and Camille found herself lounging on the couch staring at her hands. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears. A year, and who was she? What had she done? No one, nothing. She felt… Well, she sure as hell didn’t feel alive, for all the effort she put into behaving that way. For all the perfume she bought because she was always paranoid about smelling like a corpse.

Camille Dugar was a ghost. A sad slip of nothing throwing herself against the wall and trying to stick. There had to be a way over this funk. What was holding her back? Why was she still tiptoeing around like there was a drunk man in the next room who’d go mad if she woke him up?

The first time she’d threatened to leave him, Camille had been angry as all hell.

He hadn’t moved the laundry to the dryer. It was a Friday, she always spent Saturday ironing and putting away the clothes that were washed and dried on Friday. Couldn’t do that if they hadn’t been dried, and it was just another thing to add to her list of the shit she had to do after she got home from work and before she could actually sit down. Move laundry to the dryer, put empty beer bottles in recycling, make dinner, grade homework, check lesson plans, put empty beer bottles in recycling.

(This was, she acknowledged, not a big deal on its own. The problem arose when this was a battle they had to have every Friday, of course it would turn into a war eventually.)

So things had gotten heated, and when Jace had turned to walk out Camille had threatened to do the very same. Maybe I should storm out this time. She’d said. Maybe I won’t ever come back. She’d meant it, in the moment. It was the first time she’d said it out loud but certainly not the first time she’d thought it.

She’d been so mad she was shaking. For a moment there was a terse silence and she thought she’d won. Jace laughed and it made her angrier, and she grabbed her keys and made for the door. He’d apologized then, grabbed her arm and begged her not to leave. For three days after that he was the perfect husband. The balance shifted because Jace realized he needed her. Eventually that had made her feel too guilty, too sad and scared to leave. But for a while that shift made her feel powerful.

Maybe she needed to shift the balance again. Maybe she needed to get mad.

As far as she knew, he’d never outright admitted to killing her, but whatever else Jace had done he sure hadn’t tried to save her life.

Camille didn’t know. She didn’t know the story, and for a long time she’d told herself it was because reading about her own death was too macabre, too depressing. She had a new life and thinking about the old one was wasting energy. But she was doing that regardless, every day. Maybe knowing nothing except the fact that they’d found her and put Jace behind bars was not enough.

It was her life, damit. Her death. Her story.

There was a chance knowing the finer details would actually just make things worse- but honestly, how much worse could things get? She was alone and scared and lost already. Would she stop wondering, if she knew? Would the sound of her skull hitting the bottom step stop echoing in her nightmares if she could put together those final moments for real, and understand what had happened in the months following before she was found?

Five margaritas in, Camille wanted to know. She wanted to be angry. It had to be better than apathy. Knowing the sordid details of how terribly he’d treated her even in death would probably make that happen. Yes, even if it was an anger she could never confront him about, Jace Hawkins deserved for her to be mad at him.

Her laptop sat on the coffee table, the little light blinking, daring her. She grabbed it, booted it up, and sat with it on her lap for a while just wondering if she could handle the potential upset having all this information would cause. It wasn’t like she didn’t already know the most damning thing, right? She’d died at the bottom of her staircase, trying to leave her husband. Didn’t get much more devastating.

There were pages and pages of articles, a lot of them the same story from different news outlets. The publications detailing the trail were at the top of the results, and Camille tabbed a few of them to look at later. First, she wanted to know what the initial response had been. How Jace had behaved before they’d found her, what the public opinion had been.

It was… Surreal, to say the least, and Camille knew it was vain but she kept fixating on which photos of her the article had chosen to use. Very few opted for photos of her with Jace- not that there had ever been many, thank god- and the ones that really insulted her were those that just used her drivers license pic (no one looked good in those!). There was one that had dug up a photo of her at a school fete, laughing as a couple of students tried to drag her onto the bouncy castle. It made her want to cry.

One article in particular focused heavily on how Jace spoke to the press, and Camille scoured youtube for uploads of those moments. His face was hauntingly familiar, and while most people at the time had chalked his bloodshot eyes and sallow complexion up to heartbreak and neglecting himself in the wake of losing his wife, Camille knew the truth. He’d looked rough as hell for years. He denied any and all accusations that their marriage had been less than perfect, until some journalist managed to dig up the report from that one time a neighbor had to call the police because of all their yelling. Then his tune changed, but not by much. A rough patch they’d long since gotten over, he claimed.

“Lying prick.” Camille scoffed, listening to him prattle on while she made another drink.

Of course, family on both sides did solidify this image by insisting their marriage had always been happy… And how could they not, it was what Camille had always insisted on presenting to them. Perhaps she’d had some part in orchestrating her own downfall after all.

He looked into the camera and pleaded for her to come home, for whoever might have taken her to let her go. His tone was gentle and sweet, his lower lip wobbled every time he said please. Oh, he was pulling out all the charming stops. Yeah, this was a charade she’d seen before. Camille, baby. Please, I love you. Please come home.

“Shutup.” She sneered, slamming her glass down on the table and standing to pace a circle around the sofa. “Shutup Jace. Shut the fuck up!” He stared back at her, unresponsive. The reporter asked how long they’d been married, and he got it wrong. She made a noise of indignation, “there was a photo on the mantle of us on our wedding day and the frame had the fucking date engraved on it you asshole!”

Apparently the police's favorite theory at first had been that she had run off- with another man, or just to start a new life alone- owing to the fact that some of her clothes were missing and as far as Jace claimed she’d never come home from work that night. The suitcase, what the hell had he done with it? Clearly he hadn’t put her stuff back.

They found it in the attic, not long after finding her body. Clothes still neatly folded inside.

He hid it. For some reason, that effort broke Camille’s heart all over again. “You son of a bitch.” He hadn’t just watched her fall down the stairs and buried her in a panic. He’d taken the time to hide the suitcase, thought far enough ahead before calling the police about how it would allow for theories that she’d run off. They went through the computer and dug up a deleted file, a letter supposedly typed up by Camille. (But obviously not typed up by Camille.) A letter that said she was leaving and not coming back. “You son of a bitch!”

There were more youtube videos. Teenagers in their bedrooms discussing her case, putting the timeline together. Camille was slightly horrified that this seemed to be such a trend, but also morbidly fascinated with watching the coverage of her death. People found video footage of him being interrogated and she delighted in watching him squirm.

In clips from the trail he looked antsy but exhausted. Right, if they’d kept him locked up he probably couldn’t drink. Cold turkey. She hoped it made him miserable.

In the end, the only thing they couldn’t definitively prove was that he’d pushed her. But they could place her in the house that night, they could prove she was in the trunk of the car. He spent the entire trail claiming she’d fallen. “Then you call an ambulance!” Camille exclaimed, arms thrown out wide as if he was there in-front of her for real, the last argument they could never have. “If your wife falls down the stairs you call an ambulance! You don’t watch her die!”

Her breath came fast, her pulse was thudding. Camille felt a little unhinged, maybe, but also more real and alive than she had in months. “I hope he fucking rots in that cell.” She muttered as she drained her glass again, echoing the sentiment of one of the comments she’d seen under a video.

Camille grabbed a glass of water and some leftover stir fry, shut down her laptop, and found some corny lifetime movie to watch. It was late, and she was going to be hungover as shit tomorrow. But her whole body felt like it was humming with an energy she’d been lacking. Okay, so maybe year one hadn’t been perfect, but that shouldn’t be a surprise right? Year two, though. Year two was going to be better.

#fun fact this started life as a short story about Camille's sleeping habits over the years because you know #we had that whole thing about sleep #somehow this happened i dont know this is just camille getting her vibes back #domestic abuse tw #alcoholism tw #inspo

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lethesomething · 4 years

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Ghost of Tsushima and the Hands of Fate

I see we're still trying to prove that games are an art form by making everyone feel bad.

For the record, Ghost of Tsushima is one of my favourite games in a very long time. It is extremely pretty, the aesthetic and general … polish is *cheff's kiss*. You can pet foxes and backstab people. The fighting mechanic is decent and there are just So Many Hats.

But also, it has the kind of story that pulls you in to the point where you have to drop the controller to hide behind your fingers going 'ohgodno'.

It is an absolute bastard of a game, is what i'm saying.

So let's talk about that, and specifically about Straw Hat Ryuzo and how I feel bad for him.

I am, by the way, going to be talking about the narrative structure of a video game about medieval samurai, so expect like, a bunch of spoilers.

The narrative is one of the big draws in Ghost of Tsushima. Like yes, it's an open world rpg with fighting and flower picking and all the important stuff, and also yes, some of the bits are sloppily written (looking at you, specifically, 'Ending to Norio's Arc'), but the game definitely sets out to Tell a Story.

And because this is a Serious Game that openly bases itself on samurai movies like Kurosawa's, it is a Drama.

In many ways it is an utterly brutal Bildungsroman, a narrative in which a young man finds his identity.

I have joked with friends about the clear intent for this game to make Important Stories, in that it actually tries to tick all the boxes of hotbutton subjects: childhood trauma? Obviously. Gay relationships? Yup. Survivor's guilt and PTSD? Oh yes. Domestic abuse? Several. Suggested pedophilia? Damn, even that.

The foxes are there to soothe the soul

It's interesting to note that from a writing point of view, this bildungsroman is even Very Classically Structured. It goes so far as to be a three acter, with a pretty standard build-up.

Jin Sakai, traumatized man that he is, spends the first act slowly getting to grips with the bit where you don't fight an army by yourself by just walking up to them and challenging them With Honour, like he has been taught his entire life. Instead of getting stabbed repeatedly in the chest and set on fire, he discovers guerilla warfare and creates this persona of the Ghost, a literal vengeful spirit seeking justice for the island of Tsushima.

It gets him some big wins and in the second act he slowly embraces this identity until things get to a head where he clashes with his entire old life. The third act starts at the hero's lowest point and is utterly gut wrenching (i am Still Not Over the horse, game), forcing him to pull himself together for an ending that is, well…fitting for the narrative. It's an ending that is needed, but perhaps not what Jin deserves.

But anyway, this is about Ryuzo, and how until that ending, I was very upset about his role.

You see, this story is told in part through the lives of Important Npc's, who contribute to Jin's journey of self-discovery. This is pretty obvious with someone like Yuna, who is the one to introduce him to the Stealth Life and who is a driving force behind the marketing of the Ghost.

Someone like Masako, meanwhile, portrays vengeance and self discipline, but Jin also kinda tries to make her fill the mother-shaped hole in his heart.

Lord Shimura, meanwhile, is an Obvious Father figure but also stands for Jin's past. He's rigid and ineffective, which pushes Jin to further look for alternatives.

Ishikawa, that other mentor figure, is more moderate and flexible, but he also represents a possible unwanted future. He literally warns Jin at one point not to become like him.

Norio, then, is as mentioned not the best written, but he too is a person that searches for his destiny and tries to become like his hero, while only barely holding on to his sanity.

Kenji, I'm sorry, I love you but you're just comic relief, that's all you do. It's an imporant job in the story, because god does it need it, but you're not teaching Jin anything other than how to make different 'resigned sigh' noises.

So what about Ryuzo? From the very beginning, Ryuzo's story didn't really sit right with me. There's the obvious class issue: he's one of the few important npc's that are poor, and he's an Antagonist.

It has always rubbed me the wrong way that his original intentions were good, depending on how you read it. He's trying to feed his men. He essentially made the decision that this one man's life (even if it is an old friend) is worth the price for the lives of his band of ronin.

It's a lot more complex than that, of course. Ryuzo partly blames Jin for his predicament in life, and he also knows that samurai treat their soldiers as chattel, which the game goes out of its way to show you they DO.

Essentially, he's a complicated character who makes bad decisions for arguably good reasons.

Ryuzo did everything he could to save the lives of the people he cared about. He went so far as to abandon his honor and his childhood friends, to try to make this happen.

Does that ring any bells?

It kinda clicked for me at the very end of the game.

Jin, being the protag in an assassin game, does a lot of killing. But some of these deaths are given more meaning than others. Some of them are there to make you feel like shit (the Horse Again, but you lose several friends along the way), others serve a more defining purpose.

You see, there's a fair amount of what i'd like to call 'intimate violence' in Ghost of Tsushima. It's an old trope. The 'if someone was gonna kill me, it had to be you' kinda scene that hails from a worldview in which some deaths are better than others, sure, but some deaths are better even than living. It's a worldview in which life itself is less valuable than your legacy. You die for your place in history. For your clan, for your family, for your honor.

Bushido is full of that sort of thing, so it makes sense that a game building on that worldview, would use the heck out of that trope.

The first is Ryuzo's death. You fight him in a duel, in which he tries to plead for some resolution. You could let him go, come up with some story. But Ryuzo is a traitor, so Jin ultimately defeats him and sends him off in what would be a touching moment of bro friendship if it wasn't for the blood and my 21st century sensibilities.

You grant him a warrior's death, is what I'm saying.

It happens again with Shimura. The game actually gives you a choice here, but if you go through with it, the scene almost perfectly mirrors Ryuzo's.

You fight in a duel, and Jin tries to get his uncle to just let him go, come to some kind of resolution. But Jin has been branded a traitor, and the only way for Shimura to restore his honour and clan, is to take his life;

This being a game in which you have the power of bamboo strikes and also save games behind you, Jin ultimately wins the duel, and has the option of granting Shimura a warrior's death.

It is utterly heart wrenching and that whole scene has no business being as pretty as it is. The swelling music? The fucking strings? The anguished yell?

Fuck.

But anyway.

That's about where it clicked with me, that Jin never had a choice.

Ryuzo's whole role wasn't fair, but this is one of those stories where life itself is just not fair at all.

Both him and Shimura are there to show us Jin's path.

What if, the game says, Jin had listened? What if he'd taken one of several offers the Khan made and surrendered?

What if he'd cooperated?

Well, we see in Graphic Detail what would happen. He would get pushed into doing horrific things. He gets manipulated, again and again, until there is no way out anymore. At some point it becomes clear to him that he's on the wrong side but whenever he tries to devise some plan to turn things around, things go Badly. He's firmly stuck in Khotun's web and the only way out is death.

But what if, the game says, Jin had stayed true to his honour? What if he had listened to his uncle, not defied him, if he had dropped the Ghost before it was too late? If he'd gone full bushido and repented for the shogun and done all the groveling and the proper stuff.

Samuraihood is just another straightjacket, says Shimura's fate. The tenets are so rigorous you would take your loved ones life, while fucking bawling your eyes out. Shimura knows damn well it's unfair but he also has no way to leave this path. It's a ride he cannot, and will not, get off alive.

Jin never had a choice.

There was only ever one way for him to go.

Like let's be real: pretty much everyone in this story was dealt a bad hand. It's a narrative about resilience in the face of utter horror, of reinventing yourself and giving up entire structures of faith. People like Masako, Yuna, Norio are finding peace in dealing with huge levels of trauma and regret.

The goal isn't to start a family and live happily ever after, it's to Survive.

Submitting to the mongols would have killed Jin's spirit. Standing tall and rigid as he was taught to do would have, ultimately, killed him as well.

"I've given up everything to save these people", he says near the end. "And I would do it again."

That's someone who has no regrets.

Jin never could have taken another path and he knows it.

And this is why Ryuzo needed a fate as shitty as his. He fell, so Jin could walk.

I'm sorry, it's still not fair.

This game needs some comfort fic.

#ghost of tsushima #jin sakai #ryuzo #narrative analysis #story analysis #i have Many Feeling ok #and this is how i deal with them #ghost of tsushima spoilers #gots spoilers

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nurseofren · 4 years

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Keeping Your Promise - Chapter 21 (NSFW)

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Read chapter twenty (NSFW)

Title: A Physical Reminder

Words: 7800

Summary: It's decided: today is the worst day to have ever existed, and it just won't end.

Warnings: Dubcon, Ruined orgasm, Torture, Body Mod, Semi-graphic descriptions of violence

ST Rambles: I've had this chapter in the back of my head for literal months and to release it after so long, to have it real and written, feels kind of surreal. For about a month or so I've been referring to this chapter as The Horrible Thing on my tumblr. It intimidated me to write something like this.

[MASTERLIST]

Stark was the contrast from this trip on the Command Shuttle from the earlier one; there was a silent alarm coursing between all that remained boarded, those who were instructed to stay put and keep the ship running so a swift escape could be made if circumstances changed. Four stormtroopers and a stand-in pilot remained with you, two men standing guard inside, two stationed at the ramp out of sight, the pilot pressing a code of buttons you didn’t have the knowledge to care about.

Sounds of battle tore into the ship, the harsh knowledge that destruction was ripping through whatever planet you were on making your chest tighter with each unknown boom or crash. The surroundings were new, though, too much foliage and scenery visible through the crimson transparisteel to be mistaken as Jakku. Taking into consideration the wooziness you’d experienced per seeing this morning’s escapades, saliva vacating your mouth at the memory of the man painted in orange fatality, you figured it would be a smarter decision to stay strapped in. This kept you from seeing the demolition ringing around you, but through the fury pigment of the windshield you saw the raw reality of crashing structures and fleeing crowds. With every scream, not knowing if they were those of the enemy – though that word meant little, if anything, at this point, your greatest foe being your very own Supreme Leader – or not, you shuddered into yourself, eyes kept strictly on your shoes while you attempted to tune it all out.

As war raged on you found yourself, once again, with too much time. Too much solitude. There was barely an effort made to keep yourself from thinking of Kylo, conflicted further with each digital reminder that time was passing too quickly. The nap you’d been woken from twenty minutes ago felt like a waste of the valuable resource. Though you knew he would have left no matter if you’d rested or not, you still felt guilty in taking a moment of peace; today was your last day with him and Snoke’s grip frayed your nerves further with each second, turmoil pooling into frigid pits while you tried to make every moment count.

While Kylo was away you found yourself watching your radar, the tip of your right index finger caressing the delicate face, tracing gently over his whereabouts. In the face of losing him you’d taken a new liking to the tech, feeling an interconnectedness even when you couldn’t see him. In some way it was a reminder that you still had around fifteen hours before you’d lose him, a tangible symbol of your dwindling hope, each patterned flash between the hours and seconds working to dim your outlook.

Far away a cascade of blaster firings sounded, tongue locking between your teeth as you strayed from imagining the lives involved. Even surrounded by catastrophe one thought was coarse in its existence as you analyzed every interaction you’d shared with Kylo this morning; after he’d told you to get dressed and ready to go, you expected, however naïvely, that he’d wait for you to gather yourself. A part of you withered when you heard the elevator leave not a second after you’d crawled out from his covers. You knew he was unaware of how crippling time was right now, but the mindless act sunk into your bones, a sucker punch to your already fracturing heart.

“So you actually saw the escape?” One of the stormtroopers spoke, regarding the one opposite him. They had been speaking for a while but only now did their conversation interest you.

“Yeah.” the second white-armored guard shifted in his stance. Though you could only see his boots you knew that this gave him pride. “One second I was just manning my station and then this TIE goes off the rails, pulling on its docking chain like I’d never seen.

“And it’s been confirmed that Ren’s prisoner was the one who stole it?”

“Ha, yeah, but the real story is how he even got the chance.”

Another crash came, neither of them bothered by the flood of screams that followed it. “Wait, I think I heard something about this before we left for Takodana. It was a pilot right? The traitor?”

“No, man. It was one of us. A soldier. A brother. Sick isn’t it?”

“But if the traitor was one of our own… how’d they escape if neither knew how to pilot a TIE?”

“Well obviously one of them did or we wouldn’t be in this mess, would we?” The one being questioned was growing tired of it.

There was a short pause between the two, neither knowing whether to bother to continue the discussion. An influx of commotion came into hearing distance; grunts, explosions, and weaponry all creating a disjunct melody of mayhem while you remained the only passenger amongst the four to notice the rising urgency growing closer with each second.

“Yeah, well,” the first said, “at least we’re not in the mess, right? Better to man the ship than to be the one defending it?”

The second soldier was no longer enjoying the other’s company, tone becoming increasingly curt. “The Captain assigned me to Ren’s detail six weeks ago. Out of nowhere. To say I’d rather get shot at out there than ever have to babysit this ship again would be an understatement.”

“Hey! It’s not that-,”

The first soldier’s recoil was barred when familiar footfalls came into earshot, heavy boots falling against the thick metal of the on-ramp stealing his words and replacing them with an interrupting chaos. For the first time since watching him leave the ship you looked up from the floor, fully anticipating his fists to be in some entanglement of rage or stress. But they weren’t. Actually, his fists were nowhere to be found, his hands too busy holding the limp body of a tatter-wearing stranger. He stood at the threshold and regarded the pilot, your only focus keeping steady at the way his gloved fingers bit into her knee, an unfounded pang of hurt skipping into your pulse as you remembered he’d held you just the same only hours prior.

“Set course for Starkiller. Instruct complete retraction to all active units. We’re done here.” Kylo was all business; cold, corporate words to match his tone before he turned toward you.

This was something you’d never planned on; seeing him with another woman, no matter how rugged and grimy she appeared, brought conflicting emotions. On one hand your first inclination was to hate her, to assume she was the enemy and that she deserved what was coming to her, to see her in the worst light as a part of you still held a hopeless claim on her captor. The other part of your brain, arguably the more logical and caring portion, felt that same bit of ill-placed fear as you had for Dameron. The news that the prisoner had escaped had brought you a peace you shouldn’t have felt, one that would be noted as treasonous just as your fear for him had been earlier. Now, that fear refreshed itself as you caught view of the girl’s lifeless face, training taking over as you took two seconds to find her chest moving at a steady pace. She was breathing. She was alive in his arms, lips parted as unconsciousness draped over her.

The engines roared beneath your feet, pitching upwards as the final crowd of passengers flooded in behind your Commander, all of them racing to strap into the chairs lining the walls, the ramp ascending and sealing the ship before it latched with a click. Kylo made no such move, his stance staying put and steady as the ship rocketed into the bright sky, the Force keeping him upright during the propulsion. He stood analyzing you as you were him, his stare evident and concentrated through the helmet, the cowl adding another layer of mystique to his already intimidating appearance. Your attention had barely left the girl, an obvious effort to not feel the jealousy you knew he would sense burning beneath your skin while he observed you.

For some reason her presence irked you, dug claws into your restraint as you fought to control your emotions. It’s not like it would matter if she was anyone important to him anyway; in a few hours you wouldn’t be, so what purpose was there in hating her? What point was there to feeling anything for him anymore if it would all be worth less than nothing by the end of the day? There was none. No point or purpose to allow this stranger any influence over you. Although the longer you stared at her, examined her through the eyes of a person and not a nurse, you lost more and more resolve towards letting her presence get to you.

A madness rose just behind your eyes, not yet seeping into your demeanor but residing just enough to keep you from caring too much about her. It was not like you to wish harm on someone, and you weren’t entirely, but, in comparing your regard towards her to that which you had for Dameron, you found yourself simmering in a state of envy. Kylo had once called you a nobody, no matter how rooted in anger it had been, but for him to treat this person, this nobody, with the gentleness he’d only shared with you this morning? You wanted to scream, wanted to rip into him every ounce of petty rage the sight was causing you.

“Officer,” Kylo said, head tilting just enough to clue you in to the warning the notion was.

The Command Shuttle left the blue atmosphere and was once more swallowed by the black of space, stars zooming past as you finally looked into his visor. Under his stare you felt your shoulders relax, let yourself breathe as you caught onto the fact that you’d been displacing your anger on the innocent girl. What you felt while looking at her was jealousy, you couldn’t dismiss that fact, but while peering into his visor, feeling his eyes so intently on yours while he kept your gaze, you realized you only felt it because of the truth that awaited you in the pressing future.

You would never be held by him in such a way after today. Never again would you feel his arms around you. This envy was rooted in the fact that you had been her, but you would soon never have the chance. And in meeting him through the mask you dissolved the feeling. What a waste of the remaining time you had with him to care about someone so foreign and superficial to your life. He was here now, even if just to set eyes on, and you were determined to keep him from observing your spiraling any further before you had to drown him in it. Neither of you deserved to feel time’s bludgeoning presence, but you settled on bearing its weight yourself, sparing him until the final moment.

“Master,” you said back, head falling against the durasteel while you allowed one full sweep over his impossible frame, careful that no hidden heads were looking your way before permitting the faintest quirk of your lips. The gesture was for him, hoping he’d be thrown off the trail of your uproar of emotions even in the slightest way.

When the docking bay came into view, the floor growing closer as the ship settled into its landing, you found it difficult not to think about how different you’d felt when leaving here this morning. After receiving the alert for the departure you’d hurriedly gotten dressed while dreading coming into contact with Kylo again, settling on the fact that it would be easier to lose your trial than to live a life with him. Another twinge of regret wrapped your lungs in jagged constraints when thinking about the time you’d wasted, though you couldn’t have known then. There was so much misery twisted into you, anger you thought belonged to your Commander, rage you’d learned had nothing to do with him.

As the engines settled and the ramp descended once more, you watched distantly as blurry white figures moved about and away from the ship. In their vacating you knew that time was wearing on, felt it wrap tighter around your heart while you listened to the unmistakable footsteps of your Master wander off into the distance. Clasping your palm around your watch you kept yourself from checking, knowing it would only frighten you in its ever-passing reality. Time had become an overwhelming factor in your knowing Kylo; it was now a catalyst to both your introduction and your severance. However devastating, you still didn’t wish to take any of it back.

After undoing your safety harness and standing from your seat you went to exit the ship, your phone buzzing at your hip just as you stood centered under the threshold. It was Mason. Another reason for the current glut of guilt accumulating in your stomach. With an anchored lip, teeth threatening to draw blood, you accepted the call and all that it entailed, half-thankful for another opportunity to delay Snoke’s task.

“Mason, look, earlier… I wasn’t. I hadn’t. I just got back from—” slowing down and taking a breath, you searched for the right phrasing that would reveal just enough to quell his impending interrogation “—I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. I haven’t been having the best day. Work stuff, you know.”

“I do know, young officer.”

Frozen in place, blood turning to ice, your eyes fell from focus and you stumbled left towards the support of the hatch’s frame. The slithered, malicious tone was engrained into your soul, its sound now too familiar and fatal to be mistaken. Snoke sounded far away, voice too echoed for him to be holding whatever contact device he was using. Panic planted new thorns in your stomach at the realization that Snoke was calling from Mason’s phone.

“If he’s already dead you have nothing to bargain.”

A low roll of what sounded like tainted amusement rattled through the electronic frequency. “Don’t worry, here he is now.” A muffled shriek sent your hand away from your ear, agony ripping through Mason, his face vivid in memory of the first time you’d heard him like this.

“I haven’t gone against you!” Spit sprayed as you spoke through gnashed teeth, Mason’s cries turning into distant groans. “Let him go or the offer-,”

“The offer isn’t yours to bargain, stupid girl.”

“The stupid girl found a loophole in your plan, didn’t she?”

Another stream of cries filtered through the phone, hand clasping around the hard edges of the threshold. “For some reason I believed you held this physician to a higher esteem,” Mason pleaded your name in a thrashing tumble of suffering, “my mistake.”

Mason only grew louder as Snoke paused to let you hear him, to let you listen to your own doing. You knew what Snoke wanted and how to make him stop, your eyes closing in defeat while you swallowed what remained of your resolve.

“Tell me what you want, just stop hurting him.” Life left your voice, failure and shame prickling into your eyes.

“The only thing that’s changed is the timetable I offered. Your little stunt has worked against you.”

“When? How much time do I have?” A stray tear fled salty over your tongue, teeth trapping your quivering lip.

“You have exactly sixty minutes to keep your end of the deal. Consequently, that’s the same time your friend will cease to exist should you fail.” There was a cruel amount of pleasure and matter-of-factness coiled into the mention of your failure.

“I don’t know where he is, and I doubt he wants to be interrupted with whatever he’s doing.” The stranger’s face passed momentarily through your mind, imagining she had the same fate as the prisoner.

“For your friend’s sake, as you’ve offered no notion that you care for your own life, I suggest you find him.”

“You’re sick, you know that right? Doing this? Hurting him this way?” Your watch read a quarter till nine, steps leading you mindlessly down the ramp and into the bustling Elite center.

“Maybe. Though, I’m not the one hurting him, am I?”

Hauntingly low laughter overlapped with your frustrated growl, feet stomping in no particular direction as you scanned the room. “Fifty-nine minutes now, officer. I’ll be expecting your call, though I am sure I will know when you have completed your task.”

The call ended before you had the chance to scream at him, though it would’ve attracted more attention than you wanted right now. Shoving your phone back into your front pocket, the seams nearly busting at the force, you threaded both your hands into your hair, clutching at your scalp as you walked in circles in an aimless attempt to find Kylo, not remembering which direction he’d gone when he’d left the ship.

The only place it made sense for him to be would be in an interrogation room, but you didn’t know where those were on Starkiller. Anxiety rippled in hot waves down your spine, pulse quickening as you looked down to find you’d spent two minutes pacing about in indiscriminate paths.

Realization hit you. “Okay, I deserve to die for being this fucking stupid!” Holding your left wrist up you watched the radar grow and shrink in distance, making a few confusing laps until you found the direction which indicated you were heading in his direction. The watch had only been a hinderance until today, and you were finally using the advantage it offered.

Racing past the faceless soldiers, looking side to side as they observed you with confusion, you kept focus on the red radar, feet moving faster the closer you moved towards him, not paying attention to where your legs were leading you. A few stormtroopers tried to chastise you, yelling for your attention as you ran past them. But you could hardly hear them over your fumbling thoughts, trying to piece together a believable performance to try and convince Kylo you wanted to quit.

Every phrase that came to mind met you with a crippling sense of fraudulence. Your time with him this morning, the purposeful portion you’d taken to be with him before it was too late, was now backfiring. How could he believe something that would so blatantly sound like a lie? There could be no conviction when there was no truth to prove in the first place. Why had you done this? Even if he did believe you, you’d cause more pain than you intended just by allowing him to come so close to your heart, to see in your eyes and hear in your praises how much he meant to you.

He knew the real truth, felt it as your tears streaked down his back, though now you felt exceedingly grateful you hadn’t verbalized the depth of it. In all of this you had to remind yourself that you weren’t the villain, that you were protecting your friend and saving your career, but it was impossible to see it that way when guilt tugged at each stride. With each pace you questioned your speed, conflict obvious in understanding you were on a timer while also acknowledging you were running headfirst into heartbreak, catalyzing the inevitable with each new hallway you turned down.

This would be the worst thing you’d ever do, no matter if you died today or next week or in a hundred years. To hurt another person – chest tight when remembering you’d so often questioned Kylo’s humanity in the beginning – so entirely was in complete opposition with who you had become; your position was to heal him and provide a sense of safety to aid in that process. Now, as you started down a heavily populated hall with display screens mounted above each doorway, you found yourself running to do the exact opposite, racing to harm him and steal the security he’d entrusted you to offer.

Two stormtroopers stood guard at one of the doors to your right, blasters at the ready while their voices became clearer with each distance-stealing stride.

“Dude, I’m just saying it’s not that bad being assigned to Ren’s detail. Actually, I’m glad the other guy got booted, he seemed… off to me. Like he didn’t-,”

“Okay! I get it! I don’t want to hear about-,”

The two men stopped talking when your hands met your knees while you fought to catch your breath, sloppily checking your watch and finding you had fifty minutes before the clock ran out. Swallowing, gulping for air, you pleaded with them in harsh, simplified requests.

“Mas- Commander. Ren. Where. Now. Tell me.”

Coming up from your knees and wiping your forehead you saw them look at each other, considering you in the current state of chaos in which you resided. Staring between them and your watch, you grew impatient.

“Seriously. I need to speak with him. Now!” Desperation cracked your voice, heart torn between saving Mason or sparing Kylo, each holding an equal portion of it.

The first one, the talkative one, began to speak, his automated voice fading just as quickly as it had come before both of their heads turned to their lefts. They quickly stood to a higher degree of attention, the action bringing you a heady sense of déjà vu from graduation. Solace and suffering struck you as your pounding head stopped to listen for the approaching footsteps, contradiction dizzying you before you turned to face him.

He was still masked but the cowl was resting in a collection over his shoulders, hands relaxed at his sides as he stepped closer. You didn’t know what to say. Nothing came to mind as you stared pleadingly into his visor, wishing that somehow he could hear your thoughts instead of just feel your nerves.

“I need to-,”

“Speak with me. I heard.” His words were clipped, the stress of the day sinking into his tone.

“Okay, well I have to-,”

“You’ll have to wait, I have more pressing matters to attend to.”

The door between the soldiers hissed open before Kylo stepped to enter into the room, your heart heightening to an unimaginable pace as indecision and time stabbed into your lungs. A flash of time, a flicker of Mason’s face, an echo of his screams – all these things amplified in your mind in a split second. This was it. It was now or never. No more waiting, no more delays. Despite every effort, you had to accept the truth: Mason would die if you failed Snoke, but Kylo would live regardless.

“I quit.” Quick, short, and loud was the statement, tight fists balling at your hips while your eyes shut in defense.

The hall lulled in its buzz, voices hesitating as you felt the eyes of countless strangers fall on every part of you. To match their vacant voices was the sudden disappearance of any footsteps. In your purposeful blindness, you knew the words had stopped Kylo in his path.

Swallowing, taking a slow, superficial breath, you looked at him. His body was half turned toward you now, fingers flexing apart and then winding together. With every word you began to drive the knife deeper into his soul. The blade was double edged, though. “I ha… I have to quit. I’m quitting.”

The onlookers went back to their business after five silent seconds, their own worlds still spinning no matter if yours was soon to be thrown off its axis. Kylo turned so his whole body faced you now, slow, harrowing steps carrying him closer. The helmet at his shoulders was an eternal hinderance. Even when his face was visible you struggled to get a sense of what he was feeling. But you could only assume, could only anticipate, there was a new foundation of confusion or doubt moving the tiny muscles of his face.

“Officer, we will discuss your employment later. For now I advise you to return to your residence.”

“There is no later. I ha…” No matter how many times you attempted to say the three words, the second would always falter before completion. “I’m done. I’m quitting.” Your eyes hit the floor, reflection mocking you in your pitiful attempt towards conviction. “I quit.”

Kylo’s vocoder crackled out a huff of exasperation. His head turned to address the two men standing guard at the door, a hiss sounding as it latched shut again. “Remain here until I return. Update me if the Scavenger’s status changes.” His visor returned to you, staring for a moment too long before he walked past you with the silent expectation that you were to follow.

Passing down two more hallways, taking one left turn and a right, you grew in terror with every stride, noting the diminishing timeframe at your wrist every ten seconds. There were far less people in the first hall, and none in the second. A door came into view, its frame fortified and industrial, the display screen above it turned off – or dead, as the surroundings appeared to be that of a decommissioned sector. With a harsher than normal sound, it slid to the left to allow entry, Kylo stopping just before he entered to allow you past him. He was analyzing you, undoubtably, and you coveted his ability to keep his intentions hidden so well.

Soft, cautious steps filled the quiet of the dank room, the overhead light flickering when it came to life, a fluorescent buzz adding to the symphony of silence. In the center was the same apparatus that Dameron had been positioned on, this one much less agile looking, its fixtures outdated and dust-covered. Neglect was evident in the way the entrance shrieked shut at your back. With elbows bent and fingers locking together just below your ribs, you kept your face from him, keeping a watch on the time. You needed to do this, but how?

Kylo was a predator when he needed to be; watching he prey from a distance, keeping his steps light and thoughtful, getting just close enough so you weren’t entirely sure how near he was behind you. Though, currently, you felt more like the hunter; alone with him you waited to strike on an unsuspecting victim, not entirely planned or strategical, but nevertheless predacious.

He wasn’t talking. And you couldn’t bring yourself to say the horrible things Snoke had instructed. You were at a standstill, not knowing how to move next, not wanting to move at all. But you had to, you knew this; the absence of a path that offered peace for either party was the foundation for your hesitance. When you left here, the only person to benefit would be Mason; a third party you so desperately regretted roping into this.

His draught of words charged your nerves; he didn’t know what he was waiting to hear, he couldn’t know – that was the fact that made this all so terrible. The pain you were feeling was the same you were meant to poison him with; it was purposeful and calculated and cruel, just like its perpetrator. But you were the messenger, and to be killed would be preferred to the latter of delivering words you knew bore the explicit and extensive intention to harm their recipient.

“I quit.” No other words would form. None that wouldn’t sting anyway, so you just kept repeating the two, hoping you’d finally accept them or find some inkling of truth in their outward expression.

“I heard you the first three times. I just don’t know why you’d say it at all.”

He was asking for the falsehoods you were avoiding speaking, simultaneously stalling them and trying to gather the will to say them. This would hurt him no matter what. Time would only run out and harm both of the people you loved if you didn’t do this. Sparing one for the other felt hopeless. It was.

“I hate you.” Three flat syllables fell in pattern, their existence stoic and empty.

A static cloud of incredulous amusement left him. “No you don’t.”

Turning in sloth, you leveled your features, bluffed stoicism crowding your eyes in hopes it’d form your own mask. Unblinkingly you stared into his visor, trying not to bite at your cheek, hands coming down to relax at your sides. “Why wouldn’t I? I have every reason and right to.”

Leather squeaked out of sight; it appeared your façade was working. “Maybe you should. You don’t, though. You don’t even want to.”

“You can’t tell me what I feel. I hate you.” Each repetition was an attempt toward belief.

“Fine,” Kylo said, challenge evident in his tone while he took a step forward, your ankles catching on the bottom of the angled table. “The least you could do is try and prove it, as it is nowhere to be found in either your words or your presence.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.” There was an arsenal you could draw from, weaponized sentences that would floor him, that you knew could convince him. All of it had been true, or remains true, but you didn’t want to use any of it. He didn’t deserve this at all. It was excruciatingly unfair.

“You aren’t ignorant to the fact I can feel everything you do. Why are you lying to me?” He was growing increasingly frustrated.

“What would I gain from lying to you, Kylo?” Only the life of your closest friend, but that’s all. “Have you considered I’m just now telling you the full truth?”

“I don’t consider absurdity,” your name gritted through the vocoder.

“What is so absurd about me hating you?” Shifting barely, you grappled for the wrist restraints for support, steadying yourself, looking up to him through two masks, only one hidden. “You’ve only ever hurt me. The only nice thing you’ve ever done for me is have that termination notice signed and ready to go.” Each word was a dagger to your own heart, no matter if he was convinced yet.

A pointed indication that your coaxing was working, however ashamedly, was obvious in his statuesque stature. Kylo was crowding you, your chin grazing his chest with each brusque breath he took. This was torture; this was true agony, wrathful and writhing as it thrashed against your soul.

Everything in you was adamant in its desire for him to keep his face hidden; the last thing you wanted was to see his expression right now, to watch all you’d built with him tear down in seconds.

“I signed that as a requisite to your assignment. Should it have been necessary it would’ve been available for your immediate termination.”

“My immediate termination,” you recoiled, taking in stride his answers to avoid hurting him. Angering him was an easier route. “Ever since the beginning you’ve doubted me, I swear.”

“It’s never been necessary!” He was beginning to believe you. In your chest you felt your heart splinter.

He took another step forward, bumping you back onto the table, feet catching on the ledge as two metal restraints came over your ankles, eyes wide and flat while you drowned in the immensity of his presence.

“What? Are you gonna hurt me again? Strap me in and torture me because I don’t want to be here anymore? That will only make me hate you more, Kylo.” You swallowed, locking your tongue to the roof of your mouth to keep your chin from betraying your true feelings.

“You don’t hate me!”

“Yes I do!”

In a storm of black, his arms flung upward and tore the helmet from his head, throwing it so it crashed with a riot of fury against the wall, a dent no doubt left in its wake. Two gloved hands came warm and quick over your cheeks, pulling you into his face and drawing you to his lips. There was need obvious in his attack, his fingers quite literally locking you to him. He caught you off guard, your mouth moaning with his same fervor in the first half second of connection. But you couldn’t do this, allowing it would only cause him more pain.

“Kylo, no,” your hands twisted bruises into his wrists while you tried to pull him away, trying and failing to ignore the etherealness his touch inspired. “We can’t- I can’t do this anymore.”

“Why not?” His body pressed into yours, the angle of the table allowing you to feel his weight, relish in his size. He wasn’t listening to your direction, completely lost to his own agenda to convince you of what you already knew.

“Because I don’t want to.” He felt so good, home and comfort blatant in the effort it took to pull away.

“Really?” One of his hands clutched into your hair while the other raced to lift your skirt, dipping into your panties and pushing two fingers into your slit with ease. “You’re lying!” He growled, his hand’s presence forcing another moan, pleasure twisted in your core when an accidental buck dragged his fingers closer to your entrance.

“You disgust me!” Insults were your next line of defense, petty and pointless as they were.

Kylo grunted, the seams of his gloves teasing your core. “I disgust you, huh?” The thick digits hooked into you, a shudder of breath coming with their arrival. “Is it how I can make you cum harder than anyone you’ve ever been with?” The firm pad of his thumb found your clit, raised and ready, and he began winding into it, bolts of seething joy igniting as he brushed over it repeatedly. “Disgusting how you’ve never wanted anything more than this—” his tongue slid onto yours, nose panting gusts of lust onto your cheek while his fingers began pumping into you –” how you need it? Those were your words right? Earlier?”

He wasn’t fighting fair, and you supposed you weren’t either, but you were the one with the hidden agenda. Kylo was bearing it all while you worked to conceal the pain it brought you to tell him these things, the way every second brought you closer to saying the words you knew would tear through him just as they had done to you.

“You’re so fu-full of yourself—” your head glittered while you sunk into the grip of the climax you felt coming, teeth clamping together and blocking his tongue from yours. “How would you even know if you were the best I’ve had? Take a look in my head, I’m begging you to find you’re wrong!” It was a way of pleading for him to go digging so he could see Snoke, half hoping he could at all when you remembered Snoke’s act of torture when you first stepped before him.

Kylo had tunnel vision, lips pressing into your jaw when he couldn’t lust after your tongue, fingers working you faster, harder, knuckles skating in and out with a delicious friction. Release stuck in your throat and burgeoned in your belly, an unmistakable glow festering into fruition.

“Why should I waste my time when all I’d find is how you think endlessly about every encounter we’ve shared?” His cockiness almost brought a smile to your face, and you were sure he could feel that strike of glee that encouraged it. “You’re going to cum for me like the slut you are—” it was chaotic, the spiral of pleasure he was twisting into you, your nerves shining for him with every purposeful movement of his hand “—and then you’re going to go to your residence and wait for me—” a falter of reluctant, stifled groans fell unbidden from your agape mouth “—so when I get there I can give you the time needed to drill into you—” he sucked at your collar bone, canines biting into the taut skin and your back arched into him “—that I know you, I feel you, and you’re an awful. Fucking. Liar!”

Holding on by the last thread of resolve, you gasped and gulped. “You ruined my life.” He wasn’t going to allow you to do this without hurting him. “You nearly killed my friend. You took my free will.” All of this was forced through a tight jaw, your hands prying him from your neck so you could stare into him with the power you needed to strike him down.

Looking deep into his eyes, savagery etched into his visage, you brought his face closer so his nose nearly touched yours. Sweat was dripping down your forehead, slipping beneath your thighs on the now slick metal, your throat swallowing back spit while you sharpened the daggers you were about to send through him. Maybe not entirely conscious of it, his hand slowed, your release faltering and diminishing while you stared through him.

With the flattest possible expression, focus fuzzing purposely as to not see the damage you were about to cause, you held him entirely with just your eyes. There was something you couldn’t place just below the surface, its presence aching and sharp while you watched his lips attempt to mimic the stoicism of your own. Nearly imperceptibly, his chin was quaking; unsure if it was from a stressed jaw or from that sharp emotion stabbing into you, your blurred vision caught the red face of your watch in its periphery. Time was draining. This was it.

“Kylo,” you began, your other hand reaching to clasp around his forearm, knowing hearing his name would make the cut deeper. Permanent. “There is nothing you can do, or say, or force that will ever change the fact that I hate your very existence.” You swallowed, hoping your fear felt more like rage. “Everything you do – killing innocents, hurting the people I love, stealing my free will – and everything you are is a wretched scar on my life.”

Every single sentence went right through his back and stabbed through to your heart. It was miraculous, yet disturbing, how your voice had fallen into winter so easily. Guilt broke past the levy of your soul, heart turning to ash while you observed every bit of light fade from his eyes. “I said earlier I wouldn’t forgive you. That was the lie. I can’t.” Maybe the tears forming would be masked by the sweat he’d inspired.

The next words would be the harshest, the conclusion to everything. He’d called you on it earlier, but now it would be agonizingly true: you were lying to him. “Ever since you came into my life, every day I have wished, hoped, begged that I never met you. Pleaded that the infamous Kylo Ren was a stranger, and I suppose I partially got what I wanted. You have never been more of a stranger than right now.” Another break before your final statement shattered all you’d come to know for the past three months. This would be the act to secure Mason’s life.

Dropping your hands from his neck and forearm, he remained in place, his own hand having left you completely now, his eyes nearing the vacancy of his touch. With a whisper, you completed your task. “You are an irredeemable bastard, Commander Ren, and I want nothing more than to forget you exist.”

Hollow were the eyes which mirrored each other, emptiness enveloping him just as it had you. A transaction of turmoil. An exchange of hearts as Kylo’s had stopped while Mason’s would beat on. Through two razed pupils you felt his soul shrink into him, saw the man you loved shatter into dust.

Nothingness equipped him with a lifeless gaze, a flat voice, and a crushing shadow of decimation. “I trusted you.”

And to tie it all up with a gnarled, muddied, tattered bow. “I never asked you to.”

The walls you’d just laid foundation for were audible in their construction, flagrant over his face as he backed away, eyes proximal in the physical sense yet entirely distant in their expression. You didn’t know what to do, unsure if to leave him here or to wait for him to leave first. Venom burned at the ashes in your chest, starving you of air and shattering your temporary mask with each dead measure of time.

Pushing up from the metal, you looked down to your ankles, still bound to the table as you were in shame. There were no words you could think to say, nothing you could do to remedy this level of severity. In the second you’d stolen to look down, Kylo Ren’s eyes had returned to that of the person you’d met the time he’d taken your will. It chilled you, and while watching him, forgetting to move, you found you no longer could.

All at once your head crashed back into the metal, your arms flew outward, and every restraint – a pummel of metal over your forehead, a bite into your wrists, and a reinforcing clobber over your ankles – latched with a shroud of metallic shrieks. Along with the physical detention, a familiar, compressing weight came to reside over your chest, every breath you took barely life sustaining.

“You can leave here. You can quit—” stalking steps approached, eyes peering around to find him in your periphery “—but you will never forget me.” Kylo Ren loomed over you now, death salient in his eyes. “I won’t allow it.”

The white stone of his face drowned in a haze of brilliant red, the familiar frequency stunning your ears and stabbing your skin with the rippling rage its presence promised. Parted lips permitted a tired wince, desolate eyes staring into your own, skipping down your chest, and landing on a region unknown to you.

“Let this serve as a physical reminder of all you’ve vocalized here.”

Blinded in silent fury, his visage remained vacant. Out of sight, a gloved hand smoothed your skirt onto your abdomen, an emblazoned heat quickly replacing it with burning wrath. Bile rose in your throat, your eyes clasping shut in defense; no matter if you couldn’t see, the darkness offered by lidded eyes worked to take you from reality, knowing there was nothing you could do or say or scream that would convince the sadistic stranger to spare you.

Accepting fate, you shredded your teeth into your lips, staggering broken wails through a muting muzzel as the plasma blade made first contact with the skin of your upper left thigh. Sweat beaded as more muted shrieks shattered in your throat, the weapon passing down once and lifting. In the time it was away from your skin, not ripping into you with the deflected pain of its brandisher, you took in a series of deep breaths and lifted your lids. The Kylo you loved was nowhere to be found, and you knew and accepted that he never would be again, watching him concentrate with a creased brow just as the plasma bit another line, seemingly perpendicular to the first. There was no reaction to your hummed howls, still not allowing yourself to scream your pain into existence, not ready to accept why when his face peered back up to yours.

The absence of the chrome-slat helmet disadvantaged him in no way; the devoid person who had earlier removed it had formed a new mask, one fueled by the frenzy you’d fabricated from phony truths and forced rejection. Looking between your eyes, a stranded soul stared down to you as one more burning strike lit into your skin, a mirror of the second as it dragged down just slightly from its starting point.

A suggestion of a snarl bit at his upper lip as his face returned to its original state of smooth, flecked marble. The restraints unlocked and sheathed themselves back into their original hidden state, the exit opening behind his shoulder. “Leave.”

Fire pooled in your leg, chin trembling while absorbing every inclination to express the suffering that singed into you. With heaving breaths you smelled your injured flesh, nauseated and dizzy thinking about the pattern he’d etched. You didn’t want to scream at him, didn’t feel like saying anything at all, really. There was something shameful barring you from expressing any, or any more, cruelty toward him, keeping you from hating him for the hurt he’d wrought.

No verbalized goodbye would ever be enough to undo what had gone on in this room. Gingerly, you stepped off from the apparatus with the unaffected leg, dragging your shoe from the ledge until it fell flat next to the other. Swallowing, you pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, taking one final look at the mess you’d made, shuddering away before he could see the tears stinging to life. In an effort to keep from stressing the muscle beneath the branded tissue, not taking a moment to examine it yet, you kept the injured leg tensed, hobbling into the hall and away from Kylo Ren.

When you took your final step out of the second hall he’d led you down, you hopped against the wall, finding you’d met your timeframe. Ten minutes remained. A cruel thought of overachievement panged at your temple as you reached for your phone, panting through heavy, hot streams of hurt.

The line barely finished the first ring, your mouth starting a sentence only to be interrupted by the sinister slithering of Snoke’s cadence. “You’ve proven more honorable than I previously credited you for, young officer.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, well. Always the charmer, aren’t you?”

“Mason. Where is he?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Snoke said, an obvious twisted grin in his words. “When I felt the death of your connection – which, I am truly impressed at how completely eviscerated it is – I dismissed the Physician. I have no use for him if he’s dead, after all.”

The most insignificant spark of relief lit and died in the same breath. “The deal, then? My trial?”

“We’ll see, won’t we?”

“No. No! You promise me or i-,”

“A pleasure doing business with you, miss,” the way he swirled around your last name made you want to erase it entirely.

The line went dead, your screen went black, and your blood turned cold. With a jolt of unadulterated and uncontained wrath – for yourself, for Snoke, for all of it – you chucked the device into the floor. Not checking if the screen had already cracked, you stomped on it once, twice, three, four times as a collection of the screams you’d accumulated grated against your throat.

Only when you stumbled against the wall, your leg stinging against its injury, did you stop your tantrum. Maybe tantrum was the wrong word. This display of frustration had been earned and was not that of an errant child who couldn’t have her way. Though, you didn’t get what you wanted, and you knew you never could the second you stepped into that room.

With this knowledge and an unsteady gait, you stuck close to the walls while you began your venture back to your residence. With each step you shattered more, a trail of broken hopes and severed ties following in your path, a shadow of their own looming from the depths of the disheartened soul it sprung from.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren #kylo ren fanfic #kylo ren imagine #ao3 #st kyp

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sidespromptblog · 5 years

Text

Am I?

Summary: Logan ends up hearing something that he wasn't really meant to hear from those who he would consider his best friends, so in his shock and hurt, he ends of leaving and staying in the last place he should have run to: Thomas' memories. He can't help but to settle down and look through them, to look through the times that Thomas actually needed him. He doesn't want to leave.

Not until it's far too late.

With his back pressed against the wall as he hid from the others Logan’s keen ears listened to the words that were passed between the other sides in question, something in his stomach twisted, a kind of feeling that made his insides writhe and squirm as if someone had lit a fire in his belly. Biting his lower lip he forced himself not to step out and reveal himself, to not make a big show about how he felt about their words, and… to just let it go. He was used to what they said about him, it was practically commonplace for them to say the things that they did, and it was normal for him to just bury those feelings and brush off whatever he was feeling at the time. He wasn’t meant to make a big to-do about hurt feelings, and he wasn’t supposed to let them know that their words stung like the lash of a whip against his heart. Even if it was blindingly obvious, given that they would never be caught dead saying those words to each other.

He was the exception to their rules, he always was.

Despite this, it didn’t stop the pain that was radiating in his chest, and it didn’t stop the cold salty liquid from running down the surface of his cheeks, and it didn’t stop his lungs from hurting as he had stopped breathing almost three minutes ago once their topic of discussion had shifted to him. The papers in his hands had long since crinkled as his fingers clenched tightly around them, and that was the only sound that came from Logan as he closed his eyes their words ringing in his head.

“He’s so boring right?”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t ever tell it to him to his face, but… somehow he makes the most interesting things come out… so boring and dull.”

“Has no one ever told him that Thomas isn’t in school anymore? He doesn’t need to keep talking like that, and he wonders why his parts of the script are always done last. I hate having to write dialogue for him, its always a drag.”

Boring.

That’s what he was to them, just… boring.

No matter how he tried to change and seem more interesting, no matter how he tried to include fun topics for their amusement, just him talking was enough to make them upset at him. He made everything dull to them, he sucked the life out of the room whenever he talked, they… hated to be near him. Every note card, every vocabulary term that he learned for them, every pun, and every song that he tried to sing for them. It was all for nothing, it meant… nothing to them, just as it always had.

With each and every word, it felt like another piece of heart chipped and fell away from him, it hurt… it hurt worse than anything he had ever endured before.

The crumpled up papers fell limply from his hands, swaying in midair for a seconds before landing at his feet. He didn’t even look at them as he stepped on them as he walked away, he didn’t care about the words he had spent weeks trying to come up with for them. Ideas that they would just hate if the words came out of his mouth, ideas that would arguably be meaningless unless it came from one of them or Thomas himself. Right now, his ideas were little more than trash soon to be thrown away, they meant that little to him and the others and ordinarily… that would have hurt him. But nothing.. nothing could ever eclipse the pain that lanced through his heart right now, as their words faded away into little more than tv static on the wrong television station. Even with their words no more than a hum though, those words still circled around in his head like flies circling brightly lit lantern.

For once he was glad that his absence wasn’t noticed as he walked away from the others.

He walked, and he kept walking and walking through the mindspace until he reached the very door that he had been seeking out for a while. It didn’t even cross his mind that this might be the definition of ducking out, or that the others would definitely notice him being gone if he walked through that door. But honestly… for once in his long long life, he didn’t care about something. For once he didn’t care about how they would feel about this, or the fact that what he was doing was the furthest from logical that he could ever get.

He just didn’t want to feel this pain anymore, he wanted it all to go away for once.

Laughter piped up from behind him, down the hall where the others had eventually moved on from their discussion and had proceeded to their game night. There wouldn’t be any puzzles together, there wouldn’t be a documentary on the television, and there wouldn’t be fruit snacks ready to be eaten in the fridge. Despite it being his night to choose all of those things… they wouldn’t happen, the others would get to decide on what they wanted to play, what they wanted to watch, and just what they wanted to eat. They would get to choose every night from now on.

This was his chance to go back, to assert himself and to tell the others that he hadn’t appreciated what they had said about him, this was his chance to get an apology, or to have his words brushed off… because they were only joking right? And he was taking things way too seriously again… wasn’t he? Anything could happen if he went back, acceptance or… rejection again.

“Boring right?”

Logan’s hands clasped the doorknob, and without so much as a second thought, he pulled the door open and stepped inside.

“Logic,” Thomas chewed on the end of his pencil as he looked over at the logical side while he was coloring a print out coloring sheet of some stars and constellations happily, he was swinging his legs that weren’t anywhere near close to touching the floor back and forth, they both were. A packet of red gummy bears laid abandoned on the side of Thomas’ desk, where both he and Logan would occasionally grab one, biting the head off first, before then moving onto the feet and arms. “Why do stars look so far away? Why aren’t they as close as the sun is? Why can’t we touch them?” He curiously asked, just for Logan’s head to snap up, a bright beaming smile on his face at the question.

His eyes burned with the knowledge that they both wanted to seek, and the knowledge that Logan already knew at the time. He looked alive then, more than he ever had in the future.

“Well, Thomas!” He kicked his legs over the side of his host’s bed sitting up even straighter, “That’s cause they are far away! Our sun is the star that closest in our entire solar system, they’re burning millions and millions of light-years away from us! It would take decades for modern space crafts to reach them, and touching them would be impossible… since they’re burning.” Logan eagerly chattered, snagging another gummy bear as he did, only popping it in his mouth once he was done talking. “Cool huh?”

Thomas’ own smile made Logan’s light up even more.

His host’s pencil came to halt on the paper that he was scribbling on, “You’re so smart L,” He gushed, ignoring the way that his logical side’s ears tinted pink, “I’d like to look at the stars forever, can we… do you think that I can be an astronaut?”

“Of course,” Logan’s smile warmed a considerable degree, “You can be anything Thomas…”

Logan snapped awake as he held the memory in his hands, looking around the bookshelves of memories that held everything that he was looking for, he barely noticed the tears that drenched his cheeks. He barely noticed how his body shook with the sobs that so desperately wanted to be free from his chest so badly that it physically hurt him to keep them away. He barely noticed how it took a considerable amount of effort to stand on his legs. It was silent all around him, he couldn’t hear a single noise from outside of the room, and without a clock, he had no idea just what time it was. Was it midnight? Was it the middle of the day? Or was it the start of a new day?

Regardless of all of that though, he stood anyways on his shaking legs nearly tripping over his own feet as pins and needles ran up his legs, all the while almost falling flat on his face as he gingerly slotted the old memory back into its proper place.

It was a nice memory, a memory of when Thomas had needed him to answer questions that wouldn’t have been too obvious with how young his host had been.

Sitting on the incredibly dusty sofa cushion, Logan pathetically wiped at the tears that were already drying on his face as his breathing came out in husky heaves. He hadn’t even spent two minutes outside of the memories that he held most dear, and already the bad ones were seeping back in taunting him with the words of who he had thought were his friends. The words circled around his mind, taunting him, mocking him, and spitting foul words in his direction.

He was boring.. boring.. boring.. boring.. boring...

Without even looking, he seized yet another memory off the shelves of Thomas’ deepest most memories and let himself fall.

Thomas sniffled as he looked down at the graded test that had a big fat D scribbled at the top, he could recall the look on his father’s face. The disappointment that was written so deeply into his eyes, the look that told Thomas that he should have done better, that he didn’t care about how hard that the material had been, and he didn’t care how everyone else in the class had failed as well.

“I thought you studied last night?” The dismissiveness of the man’s voice had cut Thomas deep, and inside of him, Logan flinched back as well. They had both tried their best, it wasn’t his fault nor Thomas’ that they had blanked on the test. It wasn’t his fault that the material had been so hard, and it wasn’t his fault that the equations got mixed up in their head. But even so...

He had failed, he had failed, he had f-

“No!” Logan hoarsely howled as he threw the memory away from himself, shivers and shudders crawled up and down his body as he curled his arms around himself as his legs scrunched up to his chest forcing his sobs to become buried in his knees. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t.. I didn’t… mean to!” The words crawled their way out of his mouth as he pressed his face into his knees, his glasses smooshing against his face at an awkward and somewhat painful angle. “I tried! I really tried! What else could I do? What else can I do?!” Logan honestly didn’t expect anyone to answer, but even so, the silence that hung in the air stung all the more as he openly wept for the first time in what must have been years.

His weak shaking and trembling fingers clawed at the material of his jeans, as he pressed his wet face against the damp material knowing that all he could do was cry in that moment of solitude. The world outside of the room he was in was silent, with not a single noise coming from the outside world. There were no sounds of alarm, not a single hint that the others might be looking for him. There wasn’t a sound of concern, not a single hint that the others might have noticed that he hadn’t left his room in a long time. There wasn’t even the sound of Deceit or Remus, raising hell now that the logical side wasn’t there to stop them from wreaking havoc on Thomas and the others.

Of course, they didn’t care.

The breakdown left him feeling hollow and empty when he finally stood, he felt fragile… like the slightest touch would shatter him into a million pieces from which he would never ever recover from. Just reaching his arm out for the next memory felt like a task all on its own, let alone hold his arm out to grab the light as air memory from where it was resting. He wanted to sleep, god knows how long it had been since he had slept anywhere, let along his own bed and not some dust-ridden sofa cushion. His eyelids ached to shut, to get even the slightest bit of sleep, for even a single second of reprieve.

He wasn’t going to allow it to happen.

“Looogic!”

Logan’s head snapped up as soon as Thomas’ wails reached his ears, and without even thinking about it he took off running. Sprinting down the halls while nearly skidding into the wall, before he finally reached the living room. Where Thomas held his bleeding arm, tears running down his flushed cheeks all the while Roman was attempting to console Thomas, assuring him that it wasn’t as bad as it looked. All the while, in the corner of the room, Virgil’s leg anxiously bounced up and down as he had his hood up vaguely muttering things as Patton patted his back comfortingly.

“What happened?!” He demanded, stalking forward only to stop in front of Thomas, inspecting the rather impressive scrape on his arm that was sluggishly oozing blood. It had a few blades of grass and some specks of gravel in it. The entire injury ran from Thomas’ elbow and up to his arm a few good inches, it was certainly something wail-worthy. “Well?!” He snapped, his eyes darting over to Roman who happened to be the closest at that moment. Just for the creative side hold his hands up in defeat, slinking back guiltily without so much as a word.

So he wasn’t going be getting an answer then…

“Come on,” The logical side sourly muttered, gingerly grabbing Thomas’ uninjured arm before leading him to the bathroom. Sitting him down on the toilet, Logan rummaged around for the first aid kit as Thomas’ sniffles filled the silence between them. It was in there somewhere, buried under the mountain of rainbow bandaids that both Roman and Patton insisted that they needed right then and there, and the hair chalk that Virgil had stood in front of and not moved from until they had bought at least one of every color.

“I’m sorry…” Came the soft voice of Thomas, as soon as Logan had seized the first aid kit, bringing his head out from under the sink to look at him. At Logan’s confused stare his host soon went on, “Roman said that I should try to learn how to fly,” Thomas explained, “I really REALLY wanted to fly to see the stars and I did it without you being there. I should have waited for you, but… I didn’t. So, I’m sorry.”

Warmth blossomed in Logan’s chest as he kneeled by Thomas, gingerly dabbing the massive scrape on his arm with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol. He held Thomas’ wrist tight as his host winced and tried to pull away.

“You are forgiven, not that I would hold this against you anyways.” The logical side finally said, “You now know not to jump from the pine tree correct? So there is no need for me to hold it against you, after all…” Logan’s lips quirked into a quick smile, “Who wouldn’t want to fly to see the stars? Stars are beautiful.”

Tossing the cotton ball away, Logan gingerly pasted the numerous rainbow bandaids against the scrape on Thomas’ arm before gently giving it a loving pat. Just to let out a breathless sound as soon as Thomas slammed against him, his arms worming their way around his neck, giving him a tight but loving hug. For a solid second, Logan didn’t know how to respond to the show of affection, other than slowly working his arms around Thomas giving his back a few awkward pats.

“Thank you for always being here for me Lo, I love you.”

A pair of hands roughly seized Logan’s shoulders, giving him a firm shake as the memory limply fell from his fingers.

“Logan!” The hands shook him again and again, and the voice sounded more desperate than ever. Almost on the verge of sobs as they shook the logical side awake, his eyes blearily blinking open to see just who was in front of him shaking him so sporadically. “Logan!” Deceit roughly shook him again, something akin to desperation written all over his face as he attempted to rouse the logical side from whatever sleep that had gripped him so tightly.

A wave of hair fell in front of Logan’s eyes, it was so much longer than it had ever been in his entire life. Falling in loose messy waves around his the base of his throat. It wasn’t neat and it most certainly didn’t feel clean as it brushed against his cheeks, but honestly… that was the last thing he was worried about as his head rolled with the movements of his entire body. Like a puppet that was only connected to one string and it was the string connected to the top of his head and nothing else. His entire body felt sore, and somehow even more fragile than before. The mere idea of standing up, let alone walking made his joints ache all the more for it.

Just how long had he been in that memory?

His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, but even so, he pushed his words out. “What’re.. wha’re you doin here?” He slurred, the words coming out half-formed and not at all coherent as he would have liked for them too. His head tilted back yet again, exhaustion tugging at his very bones, as his eyelids begged to shut again, to submerge himself in yet another memory.

Deceit’s hands kept his head steady, his touch oddly gentle and careful.

“Logan,” The dishonest side’s voice was as soft as his touch, making the logical side lean as much as he could into him. “Logan you have been missing for a month, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” The concern made so much more sense now, as the other side’s eyes searched him, like a dying man taking in as much water as he could in that very moment. He looked terrified, like in any second now Logan would just be gone in a puff of smoke leaving the dishonest side kneeling there in a room full of memories that weren’t his. “We’ve all been looking for you Logan, we were so worried about y-”

A snort of disbelief left Logan and Deceit’s words stopped right there.

“They’ve been worried?” The words came a little easier to him now, “Now I know that’s a lie, everything I did.. everything I tried to do for them wasn’t good enough.” He spat, his venom clearly not aimed at Deceit, but rather the others that he had so clearly called his friends at one point. “Anything I could ever say.. ever do for them wouldn’t be enough. Just ask them, I’m.. I’m boring. Every word out of my mouth makes the most interesting subject boring and dull, we’re not in school anymore. So.. so why would they need me? Why…” Heat prickled at Logan’s eyes, and before he even knew it a cascade of tears ran down his flushed cheeks. “Why would Thomas even need me?”

An unreadable expression crossed Deceit’s face as soon as Logan slumped back into the cushion that he had been seated on, a look that was somewhat mixed between righteous rage and heartbreaking understanding that mostly left Logan confused. He didn’t understand it, Deceit had no reason to be angry, and he had no reason to even try to understand Logan’s stupid feelings. He had spoken the truth, hadn’t he? What use did Thomas have for him now?

Deceit’s ungloved hair tenderly brushed a lock of Logan’s long hair back out of his face, “Logan,” He kindly said, “I’m going to get you out here okay, you look tired so.. so go ahead and rest alright? You won’t need to worry, when you wake up. Everything will be taken care of.” He whispered, as the logical side blearily nodded his head. He didn’t care enough to look into Deceit’s words, to see if they were a lie or if he was telling the truth. He was…He was so tired.

So he didn’t move, or even fight against the other side as he felt Deceit’s hands curl under him gently easing him up and into his arms carrying him out of the room that he had unknowingly spent a month in. His face rested against the warmth of Deceit’s shoulder, his eyes slowly drifting shut as soon as the other side stood up moving towards the door.

“You found him!”

Logan couldn’t even garner the strength to open his eyes at Roman’s familiar voice slamming against his once unconscious mind. He couldn’t even bring himself to bat away the hands that tried to pry him from Deceit’s grasp, and he couldn’t even voice his displeasure at being taken away from the side that had found him. He… didn’t want to go, especially not back with them. He wanted to stay, he wanted to sleep in Deceit’s protective arms forever, where he would be warm and safe. Where… he would be cared for by someone who actually wanted him around.

“I don’t think so,” Deceit’s voice hissed as his grip on Logan’s tightened, prying him away from Roman’s hands that tried to tug him away from the dishonest side. “Logan… enlightened me on a few things after I found him. Or more importantly, on a few things that he heard before he went missing.” Silence stretched between them all, as Logan found his head nestling right back on Deceit’s shoulder as another hair ran through his long messy hair, gingerly tugging the knots out of it. “He’s boring is he now?”

Logan couldn’t see them, but he could practically feel how the others flinched back.

Patton nervously swallowed as Virgil let out an unamused hiss towards Deceit, “He.. he heard us?” Roman hoarsely whispered, and Logan could only imagine the horrified look on the creative side’s face, the way that his face would drain of color and just how his fists would clench and unclench with nothing to physically fight. “I.. we…”

“It was a joke!” Virgil roughly cut in, taking a step forward, either to fight Deceit or to seize Logan from his many arms. “It was just a joke!”

“Some joke.” Deceit calmly returned the words, his arms curling even more around Logan in an effort to guard him against whatever Virgil would do. “Jokes don’t hurt others, Virgil, I thought that you of all people would know such a thing.”

With that, the anxious side was rendered speechless, just as Roman was as well. To stew in their own guilt over something that the both of them would have given anything to take back. In the month that Logan had been gone many things had both changed and stayed the same, in that month they had all wondered what it was, what they could have done differently… or if it had been something that they had said that had chased Logan off. They had never known that Logan was quite literally right under their noses the entire time, dreaming in memories that had already passed them by.

Patton cleared his throat, “What.. what are you going to do?” The moral side merely asked, his voice calm and unbroken unlike Virgil’s and Roman’s. There was no mistaking the shame and guilt in his eyes though, knowing that he contributed to something that had hurt Logan very badly. This knowledge would be something that stuck with Patton, that what he had said.. that what all of him had said about Logan couldn’t be so easily shrugged off by the person in question, and that it really was… his fault.

Deceit straightened up, his fingers running once again through Logan’s hair. “It’s simple really,” He coldly began, “Until Logan can trust you again… he will not be returning with you, he will stay with us… with people who will actually cherish and love him. Logan will decide it all,” Virgil’s mouth snapped open. “No, you do not get a say in this. None of you do, nobody but Logan will decide on where he goes from here.” Virgil’s mouth snapped shut, just as Roman and Patton’s did as well. “Understood?”

Logan’s mind sank into unconsciousness once again, their voices all melding together into one until there was nothing at all, but the darkness that dragged him under. He didn’t fight it, as he slumped bonelessly into Deceit’s arms, falling asleep once again.

Upon waking up for the third time, Logan found himself surrounded by cushions and blankets that were as soft as a feather and without a single speck of dust on them. His head had been tilted at an angle, giving him the perfect view of the room that he found himself in.

The walls were a deep comforting blue speckled with the lightest shade of silver that he had ever seen, looking more like stars against the night sky. With thick curtains hung over the windows not letting in a single sliver of sunlight. While the carpets were a deep lush green, with little slivers of yellow to be found speckled amongst it. Books stocked the shelves around him, books and the occasional documentary that he had already seen before. His desk was there, as were the items that had been neatly organized on it. The only thing that seemed amiss was… the massive body that laid at the end of his bed like a guard dog guarding his feet in the night. It was..

It was Remus, sleeping as soundly as possible.

A hand stroked through his neat untangled hair that had been gathered into a neat braid, and for a second Logan’s heart hammered in his chest as his head snapped over to the direction of the hand.

“Good morning,” Deceit softly smiled, his gentle fingers combing through the stray locks of Logan’s hair yet again. And just like that, the tension oozed out of Logan’s body like butter melting on a warm slice of bread. “How are you feeling?”

With everything that had happened, with everything that he had been through and the month that he had spent in Thomas’ memories, Logan had only one answer.

“Better.”

#logan sanders #logic sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #ts deceit #sympathetic deceit #platonic loceit #romantic loceit #mentions of remus #angst with a hopeful ending #ts sanders sides #ts sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides

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animerunner · 3 years

Text

A Raven's Time

Fandom: The Owl House

Summary: When the rebellion and attempt to overthrow Belos fails. The survivors concoct a new plan. Go back to before it all started and take Belos down before he can come to his full power.

It was supposed to be Eda. Maybe Luz if things didn't go as planned.

Lilith going back had never been in the plans. Yet fate had other plans.

And now Lilith is faced with the monumental task of saving two worlds from a threat they only marginally understand.

Lilith has to travel to the past and becomes saddled with the task of saving two realms. Warnings: Major character death (albeight temporarily) and occasional graphic depictions of violence (nothing too bad here but it will happen) Notes: So here we are with the fic I've been mentioning elsewhere. A poorly equipped Lilith time traveling to stop the apocalypse. This will be interesting and fun to write so I hope y'all enjoy.

Anti Lilith brigade will get blocked and deleted if need be. This is a Lilith centric fic and supposed to be a chance for Lilith to grow into an unexpected hero. Not much else to say.

Ao3 link is here

Otherwise the rest is under the read more. Pleas enjoy and let me know what you think!

Somewhere in Belos’ castle. Lilith shoots up in her bed. Seemingly having been awoken from a nightmare. To anyone that was but her.

Well maybe that wasn't entirely true. She arguably had been having a nightmare. It just had been one that had been her whole life for a while now.

It takes a few minutes for her to calm down and for her heart to stop racing. Though she doesn’t relax.

She’s not entirely sure if she’ll ever be able to relax in the castle again.

Not after everything that has happened.

Lilith looks around after a moment. It’s exactly how she remembered it back when she was in the Coven. It’s exactly how it’s supposed to be. A glance at the calendar backs up what she already knows and she breathes a sigh of relief that she didn't even know she was holding back.

It had worked.

// Four long years had come and gone since the conformutorium incident. Lilith had mostly settled into and accepted her new role as the unwilling wild witch over the years that past.

For a while things had been quiet.

Luz kept going to Hexside. Eda and her had tried to find a way to get the girl back home.

There were some murmurs of a possible rebellion against Belos starting to brew in the aftermath. But at the time that was all they were. Rumors.

Lilith still felt horrible for all of that wasted time. All that time they could have used building something up to stop Belos. All the things they should have done before the Day of Unity ever came knocking.

It's a question that will always haunt her she supposes. Why didn't any of them do anything sooner?

Even if they could never have known what was brewing. Even Belos had never fully explained his plans for his Day of Unity to her.

Possibly because if more people had known the truth. Most likely it would have gone off less smoothly

It was just another day on the Boiling Isles when it happened. By the end of it though no one would be forgetting it in a long time.

Bonesborough had been ground zero for all of it. So many deaths. Lilith felt a chill run down her spine.

Belos had always said he had stopped the savage ages. Lilith wonders just how what he accomplished in one day is any better than those years.

What wasn’t destroyed in the fighting wouldn’t see much occupation afterwards. As those who could, scattered to the wind.

Four years on the run. Fighting off whatever patrols they ran into. Trying to get close enough to take Belos down. Listening to the underground talk.

It was odd. A year before the start of this all Lilith would never have assumed she would be in this kind of position.

There were close calls on both sides. Rumors circulated that some had close to nearly finishing Belos off. But no one had been able to succeed.

And with their numbers dwindling Luz had suggested what seemed like a half baked plan at best. Stop this all before it could even begin.

Lilith thought it was absurd of course. Time travel was supposed to be a lost art. How in the world were they supposed to be able to stop the apocalypse with that of all things?

Yet Luz in a rare stroke of luck had found an old book. It had seemed absurd. Surely if this existed then Belos would have used it before now right? But then again this was glyph magic. And Belos’ own arrogance had kept him from ever studying it.

It was one way, once they got there was no coming back. Even if they did stop the end of the world they would never get to see it take effect in this timeline. There was the possibility that the spell might fail and they might die anyway. But as Lilith had stared at the partially burned out scape that was the Boiling Isles now. If they could stop it, then risks would be worth it.

Besides they were all dead witches walking at this point anyway.

It wouldn’t matter soon anyway.

If they pulled this off. Then this future would soon no longer exist. Soon enough if this worked the way it was supposed too none of them would know that they had ever lived through an apocalypse.

They were almost ready; they just had to wait a little while longer...and hope no one found them before they cast the spell.

It would take hours to reset up the circle. If they even could. They had to act here and within the next hour or two or else they would never get the chance.

It had taken weeks to get this spell ready. Not just because of the nature of it. But because they needed to be in the right time and place. They needed to be where the magic was at its wildest.

They also needed to take advantage of a naturally occurring event. Every several years there was a phenomenon referred to as ‘The Hidden Hour’. Where witches were at their strongest and most powerful.

It was perfect for this type of magic. Of course it also made them sitting ducks for Belos if he managed to find them. They weren’t the only ones at their most powerful after all.

Unfortunately just like everything else it seems. Plans were thrown to the wayside. An attack by a lucky patrol had thrown the whole thing into chaos.

They had managed to drive back Belos’ guard. Through a combination of the natural topography of the Isles where they were and quick thinking. However Luz hadn’t come out unscraped. Having quiet literally taken a boulder to the chest.

“That should buy us some time.” Lilith said as she came back from making sure nothing had gotten further damaged in the scuffle. “Though they’re bound to come back. We need to start casting. Edalyn is-”

Lilith cuts out as she gets a look at Luz. The girl’s awake by some minor miracle. However it’s obviously not good.

Eda still only gets really touchy when she’s worried. And with the way she was gripping Luz this was the equivalent of full on hugging her daughter in all but blood.

It was bad then.

Eda just shakes her head at the unasked question Lilith directs at her.

Lilith fights down the part of her that wants to panic. They need all three of them to activate the glyph. Even if only one of them actually goes back. Now is not the time. If Luz-“How long?”

Eda’s eyes shoot towards the boulder currently pressed into Luz. Lilith puts two and two together. As long as the boulder is there Luz is alive. But the minute they move it...

“We have to cast now.” Luz’s voice breaks into Lilith’s train of thought.

Eda starts to protest. “Kid maybe we should-”

Luz to her credit even in pain isn’t having any of it though. “I’m not a kid anymore Mom. I can tell this isn’t good. We need to cast now.”

Before it’s too late is left hanging in the air.

“I could never really fool you could I?”

“Nope.”

“Hey at least this way we can use Belos’ favorite trick against him.” Luz tries and fails to cheer both of them up. “That way we’re almost sure to work right?”

Eda chokes back a sob. Lilith is the one to answer instead. “Of course. But are you sure you want this?”

Blood magic was tricky but powerful. They hadn’t planned on using it. There should have been more than enough magic between the three of them to power the glyph. Admittedly the extra strength from it wouldn't do any harm admittedly. They just hadn't planned on using it. It could be dangerous to the user. It could kill them. Which Lilith guessed was why Luz was now suggesting it anyway. She was dying whether her or Eda wanted to admit.

It was useful. But at the same time...most likely if they started it...Lilith glanced at the girl's pale expression. They would be speeding up the inevitable.

“Yeah I’m sure. I want this. I want to make sure you make it back. If I'm going to go soon then might as well do one last thing to stick it to Belos."

“So I guess that means you’ll be going back Eda.”Who was going back had been undecided up until now. However Luz was clearly no longer the option.

“I can’t go back.” Lilith is stopped dead in her tracks at Eda’s statement. She opens her mouth to protest. Eda has to be the one to go back. Luz is dying and might not live to see the magic activate. And she is certainly not in a position to be starting a rebellion. However before she can start any of that Eda rolls up a sleeve.

And Lilith feels her stomach drop even further if possible. There sticking out of Eda’s skin is a familiar dark grey feather. “When did it-”

“After our last encounter with Bonehead.”

“Edalyn, that was weeks ago. Why didn’t you say anything?!”

"Because it didn’t seem to matter anymore.” Eda scratches slightly at the spot where one of the feathers is sticking up. “One of us had to go back from the beginning. Just when this started up again. I knew it had to be you or Luz.”

“It can’t be me though.” Lilith protests.

She would just mess everything they had been planning up.

Luz either is too tired or already knew since she barely reacts to it. “She’s right Tía. With the curse in effect and me-” Luz cuts off for a second. “Well anyway, point is your the most likely to succeed in the past.”

Lilith knows they are. That they can’t risk it. They can’t risk the possibility of no one making it back. They’ve put too much into it. She has to be the one to go back.

Yet still Lilith wants to protest. Part of her feels like if she’s the one in the past there is no way this will work. Four years ago she was still coven leader. Four years ago she had ostracized anyone who wasn’t in the coven.

It’s going to be a mountain to climb to convince anyone of her true intentions.

Regardless of her being the only one left who can. She still feels that she is the absolute worst candidate for this.

“I know.” Lilith resigns herself finally.

“Hey don’t be too worried I’m pretty sure you can convince my past self pretty quickly of you being a time traveler.”

“That’s what I’m maybe most concerned about.”

Her and Eda had spent years working through the issues that had been caused by the curse. It had taken a long time to get where they were now.

To go back to how it had been. To have to explain to Eda again what her young dumb teenage self had done. Was going to be difficult to say the least. She justs Eda can find it in herself to forgive her again when its all said and done.

“Hey I’m sure you’ll win her over just like we were able to. In the meantime don’t try to let past me get you down too much okay?”

“I’ll try.” Lilith glances at Luz who is starting to grow paler. They don’t have much time to waste and they’ve sat around talking for far too long really. “I should get going. It’s been a pleasure knowing you Luz, sister.”

There was no way back from this. And even if she did find a way back. Most likely people would still be dead. Luz would still be dead. Her sister would-no best not to think about that right now.

This was goodbye forever. To these versions anyway.

“Try not to be hard on my past self, okay? She’s got a lot to learn.”

Lilith chuckles. Remembering the rambunctious side of Luz that had been tamed over the years. But had been an ever present part of her life after leaving the coven initially.

One last squeeze of the girl’s hand and then Lilith rises. Heading towards the edge of the spell circle. Eda follows her for a moment.

“I still don’t know if I’m the right person for this.”

“Nah you’ll do just fine.” Eda says with a wink and a grin. Though it doesn’t meet her eyes. “I trust you. We’ve come too far to fail at this point.”

They really have come a far way haven’t they?

“What are you going to do after I’m gone.” After she’s gone Lilith silently adds. Neither of them are ready to admit that quiet yet.

“Going to burn this place to the ground. Can’t risk Bonehead finding it and following you.”

Lilith isn’t sure she likes the sound of that. “And what will that exactly entail?”

Eda’s refusal to answer that question is an answer in itself.

“Edalyn-”

“Don’t get started. Everything I care about is gone or soon to be gone. King’s gone, Amity’s gone, you’re about to be gone. Luz is-” Eda cuts herself off there. “And then there’s the curse. If I have to go out. I would rather stick it one last time to Bonehead.”

Lilith wants to argue. But she knows Eda’s right. “I’m sorry.”

There’s a lot of apologies laced in that statement. However the one that still lingers years on is maybe at the forefront. And Eda being Eda of course realizes it. “Hey like I’ve said before Bonehead’s invasion wasn’t your fault.”

“Still I feel like there must have been something I could have done differently.”

“Well now with you going back there you’ll know for sure.”

“That’s true I suppose.”

“Look I need to get back to Luz before-” Eda cuts off again. “I just need to get back. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?”

“Of course.”

Eda leans forward slightly and Lilith takes the invite. Bumping heads against one another just like they did as children for one last time. They don’t say anything.

The silence is only finally cut by a strained whimper coming from Luz’s direction. That snaps the both of them out of it. Eda goes back to Luz and Lilith moves towards the large spell glyph.

They don’t say anything else and maybe that’s for the best.

As Lilith stepped into the center of the circle. She turned around to face where Eda and Luz were. Watching Eda place Luz’s hand onto the circle. They locked eyes for a moment.

For a brief moment Lilith was worried that it might not work. And then starting over where Eda and Luz she saw a bead of light in the spell circle. Growing and growing until finally it stopped and then started spreading across the outer edge of the circle.

Eda and Luz were pretty much oblivious to it from what Lilith can tell.

Lilith’s eyes keep following for a moment though she looks back at her sister and niece when Luz talks again. “Hey Mom can you sing again for me?”

“Of course kiddo.”

You are my sunshine

Lilith watched the first of the seven circles that made up the larger spell circle light up bright yellow. Before the light turned back to white and began to race towards the second circle.

My only sunshine

The second circle lit up more of an orange color. Before everything had gone to hell.

You make me happy

The third flashed black for a moment. Though it was gone almost as quickly it as came.

When skies are grey

The fourth lit up a bright green. Lilith wondered for a moment if there was some significance to the colors. Though so far it didn’t seem to have much rhyme or reason.

You’ll never know dear

The fifth lit up a blueish color. Though Lilith wasn’t paying much attention at that point.

She was a bit too entranced by her sister’s singing at this point.

How much I love you

The sixth one lit up a magenta color and this did grab her attention for a moment.

For the briefest of moments it made her think of Amity’s magic. But that wasn’t possible. Since Amity was...

Please don’t take my sunshine away

The final remaining conjoining circle flashed blue this time. There is something oddly familiar again but Lilith squashes it. She can’t be figuring out the spell intricacies at the moment. Now isn’t the time.

Lilith turns her attention for a moment back to Eda and Luz. Her sister’s cradling Luz as much as she can. They lock eyes for a moment. Eda just says one sentence.

“Give him hell for us Lily.”

Lilith nods not entirely sure if her own voice work if she tries speaking. Watching her sister and Luz for a moment more. She wants this image burned into her brain.

This is why she is going into the past. To stop all the unneeded pain and death. Even if she doubts how well she can do it. She has to try. For her, for them, and for everyone else that they lost in the years between.

The last thing she sees before the spell circle fully activates blinding her. Is Eda burying her face into Luz’s hair.

And now she was here. Deep in the lair of the beast that had caused so many problems. So much grief. She was back in the Castle that well the last time she was here had been unpleasant. It nearly has her jumping out of her skin wanting to get out.

However getting out is going to be complicated.

She was still head coven leader. She couldn't simply walk away from her position. Not without consequences at least.

Her, Luz, and Eda had made up a lot of plans about things they might do. To prevent their future. To prevent the decimation of two worlds.

So much of it had seemed to rely on Eda and Luz just being themselves.

Something that Lilith knew she couldn’t be. It simply wasn't her strength.

Not without pushing possible allies away at least.

She was going to have to find another way to do this.

At least some of the plans weren't entirely out the window. Some of that would still be useful. However there were going to be issues.

The question now became what was she going to do about the ones that she couldn’t so easily change?

#the owl house #lilith clawthorne #toh au #the owl house fanfiction #time travel fix it #this is set up mostly #pro lilith

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