#it's too....i don't even know how to describe it my mind just can't comprehend it
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guys Lil Nas X's real name is Montero Lamar Hill
#wtf#i knew lil nas x was a stage name but for some reason it never occurred to me that he had a real name#like i cannot look at that man and imagine the name montero lamar hill on his birth certificate or passport or shit#it's too....i don't even know how to describe it my mind just can't comprehend it#lil nas x
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When you use your safeword
Pairings: Mark x Reader, Jeno x Reader, Haechan x Reader, Jaemin x Reader
Words: 3,805
Genre: Smut (18+)
Format: Scenarios
Warnings: (In general) fem!reader, use of safeword, discussion of safeword, dirty talk, use of petnames (baby, darling, pretty, princess). (Mark's scenario) mentions of stress, penetrative sex, overstimulation, somewhat dom drop. (Jeno's scenario) deepthroating/face fucking, slightly mean!jeno, teasing. (Haechan's scenario) use of toys, edging, orgasm denial/interruption. (Jaemin's scenario) oral sex, fingering, overstimulation.
⸺ Mark
“One more,” he groans, using both your wrists crossed right behind your back as leverage and pressing down your face and upper body even further against the mattress. “I know you can give me one more”.
You’re sure your knees will give up on you any minute now.
“I can’t,” you cry out, but the sound is quickly muffled by the pillows. “I can’t- shit, Mark, I can’t”.
“Didn’t you say I could take all my stress out on you?” His words are harsh, but they don't sting enough for you to quit. Or at least not yet. “You wanted this, so I’m giving it to you”.
It's useless to try and regain your strength, so you come to terms with having your face buried in his pillows. It's getting hard to breathe, but you don't care —all you want is to stick up to your word, to let him relieve all his frustrations on you.
“S-shit,” you cry out loud, squirming underneath him as much as his grip allows you to.
You really don’t want him to stop —it hurts just as much as it feels good but, at the same time, you are aware you’re pushing your limits.
“Come,” Mark groans, slapping your ass with his available hand. The stinging feeling is enough to make your whole body jolt forward, but the way he is holding you in place prevents your body from running away from him. “Be good and squeeze my cock right”.
Your body feels numb. You're not even sure if your orgasm is approaching or not because this feels unusual. It's an overwhelming sensation that you're not quite sure how to describe, but it's nothing you're familiar with.
Your heart feels heavy, and your chest is pounding with guilt. You really can't do it, despite how much Mark is asking you to. You tried to be good, to let him use you until he is satisfied, but you can't keep up with his rhythm.
It became too much in so little time, and you feel somewhat guilty for not being able to reciprocate.
“Mark,” you gasp for air, feeling your consciousness drifting away as you try to speak loud and clear for him to hear your safe word, “red”.
He stops right in his tracks. Almost too harshly.
He immediately lets go of the grip on your wrists, and the sigh of relief you let out makes him feel awful. Just like it does seeing your tinted cheeks stained with tears, and your swollen lips which you spent biting down the last couple of minutes to prevent you from sobbing.
“Fuck, baby,” it’s almost comical how quickly he moves around the bed —too fast for your hazy mind to comprehend it. “Shit, I’m so- I’m so sorry, I’m sorry”.
You don’t need any apology whatsoever. You tried to drag it out as much as you could, and when it became a lot you decided to use your safe word. As simple as that.
He isn't one to blame, nor you.
“It’s okay, Mark,” you whisper, pushing your hair away from your face while the back of your hand tries to dry out the tears and drool on your chin.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath again, followed by a choked and frustrated deep exhale. “I didn’t- shit, I should’ve stopped”.
“You did,” it’s almost useless to try and talk some sense into your boyfriend as of right now, since he’s walking around your bedroom trying to pick up stuff you might need —a dampened towel, a blanket and a bottle of water. “I said the safe word and you stopped”.
“No,” he shakes his head, dragging the dampened towel slowly through your inner thighs. You can see regret washing down on his face while he gulps loudly. “I should’ve stopped- I was being too rough, I just- I’m so fucking sorry, I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have pushed you to your limits, I should’ve-”.
“Mark,” you cut him off short, wrapping your hand around his arm while he finishes cleaning you up. “I’m sorry I couldn’t take everything you were giving me”.
Mark's knitted eyebrows and the sadness creeping into his eyes feel like a painful sting into your heart.
“Don’t say that,” he coos, caressing your head and face while planting a kiss on your forehead. “Please don’t say that ever again, baby”.
“I just wanted to make you feel good,” you murmur with hitched breath, feeling a bit emotionally overwhelmed by the past session. “I’m sorry for not being able to keep going”.
“Don’t,” Mark whispers, holding you into his embrace while still peppering warm kisses to your forehead. “Please don’t apologize for that, I don’t ever want you to push your limits like that for me ever again”. You hide your face into his chest and just nod, feeling comforted by the warmth his skin provides. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” you murmur against his flesh.
It takes him a while to regain composure, and he does so by cuddling you tightly against him. His fingertips run the middle of your back over and over again, murmuring sweet nothings while he makes sure to keep his undivided attention on you rather than the guilt he's feeling.
“Thank you for using your safe word,” he whispers into your ear, leaving small pecks everywhere his lips approach. “And I’m sorry for- I just, got too carried away, didn’t realize I was hurting you”.
You hum weakly, just mere seconds away from falling asleep between his arms.
“I wanted you to,” it’s all you manage to say. “I wanted- you to take out all your stress on me”.
“Not like this, baby,” he tells you. “Not by hurting you”.
You don't realize how much time you two spend in silence, just cuddling each other. But right before your eyes finally close shut, you can pick on Mark's quiet voice whispering endless praises to you.
“You did so good for me, baby,” he leaves another kiss on your forehead while his hand caresses the side of your face and body. “I love you so, so, so fucking much”.
⸺ Jeno
“It’s this really all you can take?” The mocking tone in his voice makes you clench around thin air, but he is not that far from the truth.
Jeno knows you. He knows your limits fairly well, knows how much you can take and when you need to stop. Tonight, he is just teasing you —well deserved, after you spent the whole night teasing him just as much.
“You were talking so much shit earlier today,” he scoffs, slamming his hips against your mouth. “I’m happy to know your mouth is useful for so much more”.
It's no surprise you're currently like this —on your knees, with your hands behind your back and your mouth open for him to fuck it. You knew this is exactly what you wanted the minute you started teasing him, but you didn't calculate how riled up Jeno could get by it.
And oh, how riled up he got.
“Didn’t you say my cock wasn’t enough?” he asks you, groaning through gritted teeth. “You can’t even take it without making a whole fucking mess of yourself”.
You moan against his length, occasionally gagging when the tip of it hits the deepest spots in your throat. Tonight, Jeno is not showing any mercy on you —not that he usually does, but that is something you both enjoy.
However, it all becomes overwhelming when he gets too carried away. You can’t recall when was the last time he stopped to let you breathe, but it feels like forever ago. You’re managing to breathe through your nose, but that is nowhere near enough.
“Take me all,” he hisses, finishing every word with a hard thrust of his hips. “Make me come inside that dirty mouth of yours”.
That’s all you want, really.
But it's getting impossible when the lack of oxygen is making you feel dizzy. Plus, your mouth feels sore and the tears spilling from your eyes along with the good amount of drool falling from your lips and onto your chin is making the task rather difficult.
You want to please Jeno, you really do. But you also need a break.
So you interrupt the position he put you on, and your hands reach out to the side of his thighs. In the midst of the roughness, you dig your nails onto his soft flesh and he is quick to pull himself out of you with ease, also freeing your hair from his harsh grip.
“Red,” you cough, gasping for air almost immediately. And although it’s barely audible, you don’t need to repeat it twice before Jeno is already dropping to his knees right in front of you.
“Are you okay?” he rushes to ask with a concerned look.
“Yes,” you cough again, attempting to clean your face with the back of your hand. “I kind of- got too overwhelmed”.
“Don’t apologize,” Jeno shakes his head. One of his hands reaches out to your chin and he is quick to pick up on your teary eyes and drooling lips. “Let me clean you up”.
He stands up and comes back quickly, just because he didn't want to leave you on your own for too long. When he kneels right beside you again, you notice he is carrying some tissues along with water and some snacks.
“You brought the whole pantry,” you joke, still with a hoarse voice.
Jeno’s lips rise in a weak, half smile. “I didn’t ask what you were craving but I figured something to eat would make you feel better”.
Two of his fingers lift up your chin while he dries up your tears with a tissue. Once he is done, he moves on quickly to clean up your mouth, chin and chest with delicacy, his soft eyes paying attention to every inch of skin that he might need to take care of.
“Right now I need some water,” you tell him.
After cleaning you up, he takes off the lid and hands you the bottle of water. It’s the perfect temperature —not too cold that it hurts your throat more than it is already aching, but it is also not too warm.
It helps, a lot.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jeno asks again, and you can still sense the worry in his tone. He intertwines his hand with yours, and you squeeze it lightly before offering him a smile.
“I’m sure, Jeno,” you reply. “I just needed a break, really. I’m alright”.
“Did I hurt you?” he queries, wanting to know exactly what prompted you to use your safe word just to be extra careful next time to not push your limits. “Was I being too mean? Was I too rough?”
You smile wholeheartedly. “You know I like it when you’re mean,” you reassure him, “but I wasn’t breathing properly. That’s why I asked you to stop”.
Jeno tiltes his head with a look of shame imprinted on his face. “I acted like a fucking animal”.
You shake your head, “I think we both got too carried away, you know. With all the teasing and stuff”.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, caressing your hand while he holds it. “I’ll be way more careful next time”.
“Thank you,” you smile. “I just need a couple of seconds to continue”.
“Why don't we end this here, yeah?” he proposes.
“But-” you’re not quite sure if you still want to keep on going, but a part of you wishes you would. You’re still aroused, and you want him still. “I want to- you’re still- I want to make you come”.
“Maybe another time, pretty,” Jeno smiles, cupping your face to leave a quick kiss on your lips. “Right now I want us to rest, alright?”
He loses no time in getting you to bed, covering your naked body with a cozy blanket while leaving the water bottle on your night stand in case you might need to drink some more. He also carries the snacks all the way to you, and once you’re settled he makes a space in your bed for him to lay down next to you.
“What are you craving for dinner, hm?” he asks while you munch on some oatmeal cookies. The whole scene left you more tired and hungry than you initially thought, so the snacks were very convenient for you to regain some energy. “I can cook for you, or we can order some food delivery”.
“The second option,” you whine. “I want you to cuddle me”.
Jeno scoffs softly, and shifts his position on the bed so that he can wrap his arms around you. “Good choice, pretty”.
⸺ Haechan
“Shit,” a choked moan escapes your lips when Haechan's hand keeps your thighs open, with so much strength that you can barely move underneath his grip. “Haechan”.
He places a wet kiss on your inner thigh, softly nipping at your sensitive flesh while pressing the vibrator even harder against your clit.
“You’re dripping wet,” he tells you with his heavy gaze all over yours, “you must really want to come, don’t you?”
You buck your hips at his mocking words, sobbing when you feel your inevitable fate creeping through.
It has been going on for minutes, maybe hours. You honestly can’t tell anymore, but it sure has been feeling like an eternity of torture.
“Haechan, please,” you cry out. “Please, I’m begging”.
“You can beg all you want, darling,” Haechan scoffs, forcing your thighs open even more. “But I’m still not going to let you come”.
Damned be him, who knows you too well. Even if you try to fool him, to come and pretend you just didn't, Haechan will know —he knows your body language like the back of his hand.
“Don’t even think about it,” he continues, just as if he is reading your mind.
“Please,” you cry out one more time, but it’s all in vain —you know he is not going to show you any mercy. “I’m close”.
The mischievous smile he has on surely tells you that he is pleased with all of this —pleased with how fucked out you look after having your orgasm taken away from you at least 3 times tonight. And in all honesty, you enjoy the dynamic. You enjoy being edged, and denied. You enjoy begging for pleasure, for him.
But maybe tonight your body is taking tolls on you, and you’re not enjoying it just as much as you usually do.
“Haechan,” you moan one last time before arching your back against the mattress. And it is in that moment, where your eyes go white and your lips start babbling nonsense, that Haechan knows you’re coming.
Clicking his tongue, he withdraws the toy away from you and leaves you with nothing but an interrupted orgasm. One that hurts, that has you crying and writhing in his bed.
“I didn't say you could, darling,” he murmurs with a deep tone, admiring your body trembling underneath his. “Did I?”
You don’t respond. Not that you can, because the pain on your lower back and abdomen it’s almost unbearable —after all the edging, your body is extremely sensitive. Another touch, or another forced stimulation and you’re sure you might pass out from exhaustion.
“Red,” you babble when you feel his soft hands prying your thighs open again. “Red, red”.
Immediately, he helps you close your legs and kneels right beside you on the bed, caressing your legs and looking out for your hand.
“Too much?” he asks, wholeheartedly. You simply nod, sobbing quietly at the overwhelming feeling. “Come here”.
He lays next to you and hugs you tightly, pressing your face against his naked chest. His heart is beating loudly, even from a distance you can hear it —he also doesn’t say it, but you can feel him getting tense at the realization that he might have overstepped your boundaries.
You spend some time like this, hugging him while trying to calm down. Even the painful tension on your lower abdomen disappears after some while, just by having his embrace close to you.
“Are you okay?” Haechan queries with a whisper.
“Yes,” you murmur, offering him a weak smile. “I’m very tired”.
“I know, darling,” he wipes the sweat off of your forehead, and brushes your hair back. “I’m sorry”.
“For what?” you ask, confusion imprinted all over your face.
“I should’ve stopped long before you use your safeword,” he explains. “I should’ve known when it was becoming too much for you, and I shouldn't have pushed you to use it”.
“Well we have a safe word for a reason, don’t we?”
“Yeah,” he exhales. “But I don’t ever want to overwhelm you enough to the point where you need to use it again”.
“It’s okay, baby,” you reassure him. “I’m okay, alright?”
“Alright,” Haechan whispers, kissing your cheek sweetly.
After a couple of seconds holding you between his arms, he decides it’s time to clean you up, put you some new clothes and provide you with some water. But right when he is about to step out of bed, he feels your arms tightening around him.
“Let me take care of you,” he tells you, patting your head softly.
“Don’t leave,” you murmur. “Please stay with me”.
“You want me to stay here?” Haechan repeats. “Don’t you want me to get you some water, clean you up?”
You shake your head. “All I need right now is you,” you tell him. “Stay with me a little longer”.
He nods compliantly, feeling his heart skipping a beat or two when the realization of how much you need his presence around at vulnerable times sinks in.
“I’m right here,” he coos. “I’m not going anywhere, alright? I’m going to stay with you here until you need me to”.
“Thank you, Haechan,” you whisper against his neck. “Thank you, for always trusting me”.
⸺ Jaemin
“Come on, princess,” Jaemin smiles, his lips brushing against your sensitive core. “Let me make you feel good”.
When you told Jaemin you were feeling a bit stressed today, he took matters into his own hands to help you take your mind off of things for a while. Of course, he has his very own way to do so, and you're more than happy with it.
He’s like that, an act of service that meets physical touch as a love language kind of guy. Overtime, he has noticed how much you like it when he eats you out —you can spend hours with your legs open and your fingers latched to his soft hair, and he can do exactly the same.
“Does it feel good?” he asks, making sure you’re still with him.
And it does feel good, but you can already feel the overstimulation coming through with each flick of his tongue, or each touch of his rough digits against your clit.
“I’m close,” you mutter through gritted teeth. “So- close, Jaemin”.
He smiles.
“Show me how close you are,” Jaemin tells you, lapping at your slit messily. “Come all over my face”.
You can't understand how those filthy words can come out of a mouth so sweet, but you love it. So much so, that it's his words that trigger your third orgasm of the night, one that's just as messy as the way he has been eating you out for the past hour or so.
“Jaemin,” you whimper one more time, and pull his hair roughly against your cunt that it ellicits a painful hiss out of him. “F-fuck, shit”.
“Keep going,” Jaemin gasps against your pussy, burying his fingers in it while he continues teasing you with his tongue. “I won’t stop until you’re satisfied”.
But you're more than satisfied by now. Your third orgasm it’s as pleasing as it is painful, and he is not giving you any time to recover from it.
“Jae- Jaemin,” you whimper, closing your legs around him instinctively as a way to avoid overstimulation. “Too much”.
All in his mind is to make you come again. And again, and again until you're left with no thoughts.
But the overwhelming stimulation is becoming almost unbearable, so you really need him to stop —no matter how badly you wish to come again for him.
“Red, Jaemin,” you cry out, and whine at the immediate loss of contact from his lips. “I can’t take one more”.
You can feel him panicking for a bit. But just as fast, he regains composure of himself and the situation.
“Are you okay?” he asks with shortness of breath, with messy hair and still your arousal glistening on his lips and chin.
“Too much,” it’s all you manage to say. “It started to hurt a little bit”.
Jaemin furrows his eyebrows and sits on the bed right beside you, staring at you deeply.
“What can I do for you?” he immediately asks, pushing a few strands of hair away from your face. “What do you need?”
“I just- need some time,” you exhale. “I swear I’m going dizzy”.
You let out a soft laugh, but Jaemin’s worry stops him from finding your comment any amusing.
“I need to know if you’re okay,” he tells you, the concern in his voice being almost palpable. “Please tell me if you need me to do anything”.
“I’m okay,” you smile. “I promise”.
Jaemin caresses your head and face, contemplating the sweet smile you're offering him even after the pain he caused you. He didn't mean to, really. But he failed to realize that the line between pleasure and pain can sometimes be very faint.
“I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes. “Please forgive me”. He leaves a wet peck on your forehead, and hugs you tightly against his chest, decorated with sweat. “I won’t let that happen again”.
“It’s alright, Jaemin,” the embrace is comforting enough, but Jaemin has other plans in mind for you. Or at least that’s what you think when you feel him stepping out of the bed. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll run a warm bath for you,” he tells you, slipping into a pair of shorts before approaching your drawer, and it takes him no more than a minute to pick up some new clothes and underwear for you, placing it at the edge of the bed. “I’ll get you cleaned up and we can have some dinner after”.
“A warm bath sounds nice,” you sigh. “Really”.
He smiles at you from the door frame, and walks towards you one last time to leave a kiss on your lips.
“I love you,” Jaemin reminds you. “I love you so, so much”.
He cups your face and gives you small pecks on your forehead, cheeks and the tip of your nose.
“I love you even more, Jaemin”.
A/N: This is my first post, ever! If you read it all and made your way up until here, I really appreciate it. If you like this, please please please leave a comment or an ask! That would motivate me to keep on posting stuff! Thank you for your time!
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Imagine 1950’s husband cheating and trying his best to hide it?
-can I also be 🎐? If it is not yet taken? Btw I love you’re wholesome vibes and you’re work, you are very amazing!
Dear 🎐 Anon,
I don't know what would have to happen for him to cheat on the reader.
But the first thing that comes to my mind, is that he was trying to make you jealous and the game of jealousy went out of his control. He didn't even realize it has escalated to that one point of no return (the phantom of the opera in me spoke).
Before he knows it, it's too late and the deed is done.
Words can't even begin to describe what he's feeling. It weighs heavily on his mind. He just cheated on you, the person he swore to be loyal and faithful till the end of times. He just can't comprehend it and ends up having a mental breakdown right in the hotel room and on the bed he had a fling on.
It'll end up with him killing his lover for one night.
You'll never know the truth (unless you're a walking red flag) but notice how your husband changed. How he often quietly cries in the middle of the night, muttering apologies of all kinds to you. How he tends to stay in the house or in the close proximity of it, more often than not convincing you to just stay in than go out. How he became more stricker with himself, polishing himself into a walking perfection. How is weighted by the guilt of his betrayal till the end of his days.
@shooting-love-arrows
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✮From the start✮ pt.3
Chris and y/n have always been inseparable, they’ve always relied on each other but what happens when one of them falls?
Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.4 Finale
Chris’ pov
(2 months ago)
I toss and turn in my bed but can’t shake off this horrible feeling. She's been acting weird and distant lately, I feel like I don't know her anymore…are we still friends? The other day we were watching a movie on my couch, and she looked so sleepy. I couldn't help myself, I put my arm around her and the only way I could describe the look on her was pure horror. Did I do something wrong? Did I go too far? Did I smell or something? I groan into my pillow as those thoughts flood my brain. I have to talk to her. I rip the blanket off of my body and slowly sit up “Alright Grandpa. Do you need help with that?” I feel my lips curl up into a small smile at the memory. She never did give me a break, god forbid I'd let out the TINIEST noise bending over “You okay Grandpa?.” “Do I need to take you to the nursing home already?” Her voice rings through my head as I stand up, I glance over at the alarm clock on my bedside table, 12:22 it reads. God, I hope she’s awake. I can't go on like this anymore.
~~~~~
“Y/n.” I whisper-shout as I stand below her window. I know she’s up cause she has her lamp on “I bet she’s blasting her music, that girl’s gonna go deaf.” I grumble to myself. I smirk as an idea comes to mind, I pick up a small pebble and throw it towards her window creating a small tap noise. “Oh, my precious Y/n. I cannot bear another second without your gracious company.” I say in the most dramatic tone I can come up with. Not long after that I hear the sound of a squeaky window being opened. “Now what the actual hell was that?” I grin as she pokes her head out of the window. God, she looks beautiful… “what? I thought you liked corny shit like that. You're always making me watch that cheesy ass rom-com, what was it now… 12 going on 22?” I ask in a teasing voice. Of course, I know it's 13 going on 30, how could I ever forget her favourite movie? I even watched it without her so I could memorize the wedding scene that she does not stop talking about. “Haha, Chris. You're so funny.” she replies with a PAINFULLY sarcastic tone. “Why are you here anyway?” I take in a deep breath. “I wanted to talk to you, could you maybe…come down here, my neck hurts.” I watch her let out a soft chuckle as she retreats her head back, she's gonna come outside and I'm gonna have to do one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. She can't hate me…can she? I mean, she could after this. Y/n hasn't always been the best at expressing her emotions or telling me how she feels, she just shuts down. My thoughts get interrupted by the sound of her back door sliding open. I don't know how she does it, she could be wearing a trash bag for all I care and she would still take my breath away. “Hey…” I whisper as my voice fails me. “Hi?” I watch as she hugs her body to shield herself from the cold. “I was just- I was wondering…are you okay?” Her body stiffens and I just think…oh shit. “I'm fine, Chris. Why wouldn't I be?” The coldness in her voice could send a chill down anyone’s spine “Y/n, I can tell when there’s something wrong. Why can’t you talk to me? Im here for you.” I take a step toward her but she steps back. C'mon Y/n, don't do this to me. Let me in. Just talk to me. I silently plead to her as her face contorted into a look of annoyance. “I've told you a hundred times already. I am fine. Why can't you comprehend that I don't need a saviour. It's 1 am, go home and sleep like a normal person for once in your goddamn life.” My breath catches in my throat as her tone gets more and more cold as she speaks. What happened to the Y/n that I know? The one I fell in love with… “you know what…” I swallow as I feel tears brimming my eyes. “Im done dealing with this. I care about you but you couldn't give two shits even if you wanted to. Do you know what you are Y/n? A fucking coward! Oh, how dare somebody show even the littlest bit of concern for you. I bet you’ll just forget about me, You'll get a new best friend and fuck it up the same way cause you're too much of a pussy to confront your feelings. I tried helping you but you're hopeless.” I wipe away the tears that fell from my eyes and huff before storming off in a fit of rage. I slam the gate to her backyard behind me, leaving a shivering, startled Y/n behind. Even after all of that…I cant help but still love her.
(A/N: Omg this took so long to come out cause my laptop decided to break but I finally got it fixed YIPPEE!!!! I hope you'll like this cause I feel like I cooked with this. Don't ruin my confidence)
Tags: @guccifrog
#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#sturniolo x reader
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Anti x Reader
Chapter 1: No Strings Attached
Chapter 2: His name (You are here!)
Chapter 3: Jacksepticeye
Chapter 4: Chase Brody
Jack STILL exists as a character in this fanfic, even though he is NOT canon anymore. This fanfic follows OLD lore.
Summary: He would never admit it, but he is grieving his old life. He's unable to let go of his grudges, and how everything that has happened has affected him during the past few years. There's a sense of rage that he can never truly express.
He shares with you barely a fraction of what that has been like.
(A lot of things are based off personal headcanons and my own interpretation of these characters! Please keep that in mind. I apologize in advance for any errors! Please let me know if there are any so I can fix them.)
“Ha͟ve͟ you e̕v̧e̡r͘... Be̷en ͡be͟tr͏a̢y̴ed̛?”
Again, that was an odd question coming from him. Wasn't he the one who supposedly knew everything about every person he came across, so he could use that against them? So what was the point of even asking that?
“Don't you already know everything about me?”
“I̕ ̧w̷a͏n͢t ͜t̕o k͠n͏ow y̷our anşw̴e͏r͞.͝”
“Err... I can't say I haven't? But why are you asking me this? Have you been betrayed?”
He turned his head away from you.
A few seconds passed, and he finally nodded once. Based on his behaviour alone, you could tell this was difficult for him to even admit.
He trusted someone, and then that person must've broken that trust- Or something similar. Maybe that was why he was so enraged by the world? You wondered.
You needed a moment to gather yourself before you gave a response...
Trying to comprehend that this was a being so feared by most, and that right now he was here with you, being treated like any other guest, and was actually opening up to you- That was not easy to stomach, even for someone like you.
While you were lost in thought, he slowly turned to look at you again. He's waiting for you to say something.
“Sorry for being silent- I'm just thinking... This is a lot to take in. I don't want to say anything stupid.”
“I'̴l͡l͞ s̷t̷op ͡h̸ere.”
“Don't. I'm just not sure what to say. You can still tell me whatever you want, though. I'll listen to you.”
“...Yo͞u'd b͡e̶ ţh̵è fir͝st.”
You blinked, taken aback yet again- So much, that your mouth even dropped a little.
When IRIS talked about this "ALTR 114209", they described something totally different. A paranormal presence, whose mission was to kill whoever was in its way. That its purpose was nothing more but to cause harm.
Maybe your conspiracies against the company weren't just conspiracies anymore. And maybe, this problem had a much simpler solution that they were too ignorant to even think about?
“That's okay. Better late than never, right?”
He then mumbled something which you didn't quite catch.
“Huh...? Sorry- I didn't quite catch that-”
“A̷nti.”
“...What?”
“My ǹa̕m͞e. I͡t͟ wa͜s͡. Anti.”
More silence filled the room. God, this was a lot of information, especially after barely knowing anything about him for the longest time. What kind of name was that, anyway?
“Anti?”
“I͜t̛ was ͝a͢ n͞am͟e gi͝ven to͠ ̷me.̢”
“...Uh. It's a weird name, I'll be honest. But it's still a nice one. I like it.”
“I̛ li͡ķe͞ ͟it͜, toǫ.”
“So someone gave that name to you- Who? That's assuming you don't have parents or anything like that.”
You heard him exhale through his teeth, then watched as he crossed his arms. Probably a touchy subject. But almost everything feels like a touchy subject for him.
“Loǹg st̶or̕y. I̴t's d͡iffic̛u͘lt t͝o pu̸t into w̸o̵r͡d͡s. Anḑ I̛ alre̸a̵d͠y ͢s͟t͡r͢ug͏gle e̵nou͝gh̡.”
While it was true that Anti was not the best at holding up casual conversations, or at communication, you didn't really care. Besides, he brought his own baggage up, he couldn't just leave you with his name and go without providing any explanation.
“Y͟ou ̛want̴ mȩ t̷o͜ ͘c̡on͞tin̡u͝e, d̸o̴n̨'t y͜o͜u.”
“Well, I don't want to be left on a cliffhanger.”
“I̶ c͝a͡n̶ t̀el͜l̛...”
“Į w̛óu̢ld͠n͡'t wan͡t to leave my̸ ͢on̨l̛y͏ ͜fr̕ie͠nd ͟h̕ang͝i͟ņģ, ͝wo͞ul̡d̀ I? Nǫ, I̵ ̕w͏ould̢n't̨...”
Anti was smiling, with his tone as playful as it always was.
But then his smile faded, and his voice became unusually serious.
“I was ma͟ni͢f̛ested. Man͠i̸feste̡d by̵ stro̵n̷g f͝e̢e͡lings o͞f̷ l͏o̡n̢elin̡e͝s̨s͞, wort̡h̨les̨s̡nèss. One͢ mom͞ent I ͜w͝a̕sn̷'t th̨ęre, an̕d̛ the nex͞t, ̴I wàs͝.”
“Manifested? By who?”
“His n͟a̢me dǫe̸sn't ̡ma̡tte̛r.”
Jack— The name of the person who manifested Anti into existence, was Jack. But you didn't know that.
“Was it... The same person who gave you your name?”
“Yes, and n̨o͡.”
“He̕ ̨w͠as ̛lik̢è ͢y͟o͠u̵. H̷e śp̡eńt ͠h͞is ̀d͠a͞ys pro̡vid͡i̷ng e̕ntért̵ainment͢ ͏t̀o͢ t͝h̀e worl̴d.”
“H̷e g̢av͏e, a͢n͞d h̵e g͜av̕e, and͘ he͟ ͏gave͏.”
Anti was angered by the many memories flooding back to him.
“Ga̷v͢e̢ so mųch w̧i͢th̴o̢ut͏ e̶ver̸ getting an̕y̶t͞hing in re̛tu͞rn͏.”
Memories of him watching as Jack overworked himself to insanity, and those that apparently "loved him so much" not caring at all.
Jack gave them everything, and they just watched. Just watched as he neglected himself, as he spiralled. They didn't deserve him. Why couldn't Jack understand that? They only pretended to care about him so they could get their "content". And of course, like the idiot he was, he believed them.
But not Anti. Anti saw through their lies. Jack was nothing but a source of entertainment to them. You reminded him of Jack, in a way. Was that why it was so difficult for him to give up on you?
“Th̛ose lee̶c̕hes... H͟i̴s "co͡mm͟u̡nity" as ͘he c͘a͢l̢led ̶t͠hem— T̢hey thínk ţh͡éy ma͡ḑe͢ A͞ǹtį.”
He raised his voice, his voice full of hatred towards those "people". He twitched uncontrollably, with reality warping around him to match his state of mind.
“Bu͝ţ they d͜ìd͞n͝'t͡ ͝mak͏e An͘ti͡. He did.”
You didn't give much of a response, besides nodding along to let him know you were paying attention. It wasn't that you weren't bothered to, it was that you didn't know how to.
You weren't a supernatural being, so it wasn't as if you could somehow relate to many of the things he mentioned. So you settled for just listening to him talk.
He was willing to open up to you, even just a bit, and you weren't going to make it all about you.
“Well, Anti, I guess this means you aren't as one-dimensional as IRIS claims you are.”
He laughed. It sounded strangely normal.
“Oh, th͡e͏y d͘o͠n't know an̨ythin̶g about̴ me.”
Despite him being someone who was meant to terrify you, you were fine. As for him...
“Were you scared?”
Your question must have confused him a bunch, because the distortion around you immediately subsided.
“W̶ha͜t?”
“Were you scared of talking to me. About all this.”
He raised an eyebrow at you.
“Y͘ou̸ h̀a̷ve a͜ l̀ot ̵of aud͏ac̨i̕ty ̕to̸ a͟s̕k͞ ͜m͞e that̵.”
“I'm only curious.” You shrugged.
“...It'̨s͝ be̶en a̛t͏ thé ba̢c̷k o̕f my̢ min͢d f̷o̴r a w̕h́ile ̛noẃ. T̢he̛r͢e's... Many̵ th̵ing̵s I ̀wish I͠ ̴c̡o͜uļd sh̵a͡re ̨w͘ith y͢ou̧. I͢ j͏us͠t̡ ̷don't͠ kno͝w͟ h͏ow̛ tó... Yēt.”
“It's okay. I think I understand, anyway.”
“You're basically the embodiment of someone's negative thoughts, right?”
“S͏óm͟ethin͠g like ̸tha͠t̷.”
“Eh, whatever. Still, I don't expect a being like you to know much about emotions. Let alone how to express them.”
He could only nod silently. He seemed to be doing that a lot around you.
Everywhere he went, he left destruction behind. So why were you so patient and understanding with him? Why were you different? He didn't get it. It made Anti feel sick to be in the dark, to not have control of the situation. He couldn't find the right words to describe how you made him feel.
He did feel afraid. He despised being ""vulnerable"", it made him feel small and weak, when all he wanted was to be the one looking down at those inferior to him.
But you...
“Is there... Anything else?”
“Çan ͜I sta̸y͢ ẁi͠th yo͡ú f͟o͠r ́a͜ w͟hįl͏e͡?”
“Of course.”
You didn't anticipate for Anti to "teleport" closer to you, but you didn't mind.
He wanted company, and were there to provide. After all, you liked his company too.
You looked at him, taking in his expression- He was contemplating something, you could tell. He quickly caught you staring at him, and you immediately glanced off.
After a moment, you felt him rest his head on your shoulder, and you didn't bother stopping him.
Like you've said, he wasn't a social being, so you kind of predicted that this entire situation would tire him more than the average person. Him showing you any sort of affection was a little surprising, but you didn't mind that either.
...You got to know him a little better today.
...
A few minutes have since passed.
He's been awfully quiet, and you're concerned. You're not sure if he was content, or upset. So you decided to check up on him.
“Hey, are you okay?”
“...Y̴eah.”
“I͢'m enr̛a͡g͠e̴d̀ things h̕av͟e to be t̕hȩ ͢way̷ they͞ ́are, bu͢t... Yóù make i͢t ea͢sie̵r̛.”
You smiled.
“It makes me happy to know you can trust me.”
He really fucking hoped you wouldn't break that trust. He was still doubtful about everything he had just told you, but he was trying to have faith in you.
...You eventually realized that he never really... Spoke about what happened in regards to the entire "betrayal" thing. If anything, the only thing he had done today was vaguely provide you with some context. He only admitted that this betrayal had something to do with the unnamed person he mentioned.
“Can you... Tell me more about this "betrayal"?”
“I̴ kno͡w̛ yo̕u̢'̛re c͡uri̡òu̷s̡, būt... A̧noth̴ȩr t̶im̀e. Pl͢ea̡se.”
You've never heard him speak that way before. His voice went quiet, and he even pleaded you to not press on. Was it really something that personal?
“Alright. I can wait.”
You excused yourself and shifted around, changing position until you got comfortable. He waited for you, then went right back to what he was doing before.
You closed your eyes.
The two of you stayed that way for a while longer, not bothering to talk. It felt like time itself had stopped, just so you could savour this moment.
“Th́an͡k̸ yòu̶.”
“Huh? For what?”
“I fórg̨ot͡ what ̀it w͏as͜ ͢lik̢e to̡ b̴e a ̸pe͏r̡son; And̀ to ͢b̨e͏ tr͝e͠ąte͞d͡ like a pe̴rsơn.”
“I'm here to remind you.”
Another genuine smile appears on his face. You couldn't see it, but you still had a feeling he was doing a little better than when he first arrived.
...
...This was bittersweet for him.
He had been in denial for so long, years even, to the point where just thinking about Jack and about his situation felt like someone was cutting him up to bits with a chainsaw.
His old life was gone. He was alone. To everyone, he was nothing more but a demonic presence, who took the lives of those in his path without reason.
...But you sympathised with him, somehow. You listened to him and welcomed him, despite everything. He would never stop asking why.
He knew many people had no one in their life, but none of them had fallen that low. Even if they wanted to die, their instincts still kicked in when they saw him...
Oh well. It didn't matter. It still meant so much to him.
You couldn't even fathom how much he'd yearned to have someone in his life. Even he never realized how isolated he really was in this world, until he found you.
He felt his eyes shut on their own, and he let them. He didn't necessarily need sleep, but... He was still tired. It was a contrast to how he usually acted, especially in regards to the records IRIS had of him.
He couldn't recall the last time he felt a sense of safety. A feeling of somewhere he belonged, the feeling of home.
Ah. That's it- That's how he would describe how you made him feel if he ever needed to put it into words. You felt like home.
And as you slowly fell asleep besides him, Anti realized he didn't have to be alone.
#jacksepticegos#jacksepticeye#jacksepticeye egos#jse fandom#jse anti#jse#antisepticeye#antisepticeye x reader#antisepticeye/reader#ego x reader
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Walk By Faith (3)
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"I know what you're going to do." The kid, Omega, said, touching his shoulder. Soulful brown eyes that were so much older than her cadet body met his as he glared at her. "But please, don't."
"You don't know anything." He snarled, pulling away from her.
"I know it's not your fault. You can't help it." She whispered. "I'm sorry, Crosshair."
"Go on, Kid." He grunted. Omega gave him one last look, big brown eyes staring into his soul.
He had a job to do, anyways. Crosshair's new grey armor was weird. Despite the dark color it was too new, no scratches or markings on it. He hated it. The walkway to the platform his brothers were leaving from was rain-soaked and smelt like ozone from previous blaster fights.
Crosshair's hand trembled slightly on the trigger. Shot after shot of live round whizzed by his vode's heads. He couldn't land a hit, no matter how hard he tried to follow his orders he couldn't land a hit except a love-tap on Wrecker. His elder brother's startled yelp at the miss.
"Crosshair?" Wrecker mouthed, before ducking behind cover again. Crosshair had had a clear shot and he had missed. Chose to nick Wrecker's shoulder than take off his head. Wrecker was the first to figure it out, then. That something in him wouldn't let him hit his own brothers. In hindsight, he's appalled that he even tried. The blasted headache had him feeling like he was on autopilot, unable to change his course.
Wrecker was the first to notice. That they had a shot of escaping Crosshair. Not Hunter, with his gentle hands and soft words when a member of the Bad Batch was in pain. Not Tech, for all of his intelligence. But Wrecker, sweet, obnoxious, Wrecker. His big brother. As if from a long way off, he heard Wrecker's shout to make a run for the ship.
Tarkin hadn’t been pleased. It was bad enough, that Tarkin was angry. It was worse, when he was ordered for another surgery. He waited on the table for the anesthesia to take effect.
Only it didn’t.
White hot pain, burning through every nerve ending in his body as he fights to claw himself to wakefulness. Soft words, voices of brothers and a natborn, floated around him just between resting and wakefulness, hearing but not comprehending.
Hands, gentle and soft but callused from working with small objects for long periods of time, stroked across his forehead, a thumb dipping down to smooth the creases between his eyebrows that came from his near permanent scowl.
"T'ch?" He tries, his voice hoarse, his eyelids feeling heavier than Wrecker's training weights. There's a soft chuckle above him... female?
"Not Tech, Crosshair."
"Oh..."
His mind fuzzled in and out of consciousness as the ache receded to an unpleasant sensation he couldn't quite describe.
"...M'bones 're wet, Doc."
There's a snort of laughter above him. He frowned slightly as the cool hand moved from his forehead to play with his hand. Wrecker did that a lot when he was nervous.
"That's just the anesthesia talking, Cross. Your bones are perfectly fine." You rolled his long fingers between yours. Crosshair sighed and relaxed a bit. "Wanna try and drink some water?"
A silicone straw was tapped against his lips and he whined softly.
"'S gonna make my bones even more wet." He still managed a few swallows before turning his head away, the remaining water in his mouth spilling out down his chin. You sighed softly and pressed a napkin to the side of his face, something Crosshair scowls weakly at but allows.
"I'm surprised he lets you get this close. Any of us'd lose a finger for that." Crosshair pouts some more, turning his head away from the Reg's voice. "Case in point."
“Let him be, Bev. You did your job, let me do mine.” You put the napkin away.
“I thought you weren’t a nurse.” The Reg’s smug voice is teasing, but it still sends a jolt of rage through Crosshair’s addled brain as he starts the long trek towards proper consciousness.
“I’m not.” Your voice is playfully annoyed. “But he’s my patient. My entire future in research depends on him.” Your hand leaves him and he grumbles slightly, cracking an eyelid open and blinking in an effort to try and clear his vision.
“Your patient. That’s the excuse you’re going with?”
You growl softly. A pretty noise, Crosshair thought idly. “Go on, Bev. He’s fine, you can monitor his EEG from literally anywhere in the facility. You’re stressing him out.”
“Alright, alright.” There’s the sound of a door closing and you sighed heavily, hunching your shoulders.
“Who’s that?” Crosshair rasped, slur diminishing.
“Bev? He’s the one who kept your brain from leaking out of your ears.” You grunt. "Care to fill me in on what you remember?" It's the most unapologetic he's ever heard you, cautious enthusiasm replaced with a long suffering tone.
"Finishing my eyes, I had a headache, then my vision went... odd. Incomprehensible shapes and colors for a second or two. Nothing after that." He listed off.
You shifted beside him, stifling a yawn. "An aura. A state of consciousness that precedes a seizure. You scared me, flopping around like that."
Crosshair frowns a bit more at this. "You're a doctor, and seizures scare you?" He drawls, squinting.
"With a patient like you? Absolutely." You sigh. "Cross, you spent almost seven hours on the table in emergency neurosurgery. Bev got the job done. Barely."
Crosshair glares in your direction. "Why'd you go poking around my head for?" He grunts, sitting up a little more.
"Because your inhibitor chip decided to try and kill you. Between the pressure from your eyes and your inhibitor chip frying your brain we almost lost you."
"Yes, your precious experiment was lost." He ground out. "What's the inhibitor chip for?"
You give an angry huff but ignore the experiment comment. "It's... well, it's a legal mess. It's a biochip in your frontal lobe, the part of your brain that deals with decision making and memory? It changes your thought patterns and memory via electrical stimuli. Normally it's too small to detect but..." You sighed, cracking your knuckles, then your wrists and shoulders. A nervous habit?
"Mine affected me differently?" He guessed.
"No. Yours was amplified. Not long after you and your squad returned from Onderaan."
Crosshair frowned. "So the chip was turned up a bit."
"Enough it was frying your brain from the inside out. Yes."
"And you didn't poke with my eyes?" He asked, fidgeting a little.
"No? Are you alright?" A note of worry broke through the exhaustion in your voice. Crosshair swallowed, closing his eyes.
"It's pitch black in here, Doc."
You froze, stock still as you examined Crosshair’s scowling face as his eyes stared down into nothing.
“Kriff.” You swore eloquently.
Crosshair had also gone ridged, chewing on his lip. His hands, usually so purposeful with their movements skitter around his lap nervously, picking at the blanket and twisting around each other.
You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you considered your options. That... complicates things. Heavily.
"Ok. First and foremost, I would like to apologize. While the anesthesia was wearing off you were having a rough time of it, I went to check your stitches and had my hands... pretty much all over your hair. It seemed to calm you down, so I kept the contact as you came out of it. I was unaware you couldn't see my movements and if I startled you or caused you any undue stress, you have my sincerest apologies."
This surprised Crosshair. It took him a moment to speak. "Thanks." He muttered, dexterous fingers still picking at pilling threads on the blanket.
"Second, we'll need to find out what's causing this. I'd like sooner rather than later, but you also should be given time to recuperate after literal brain surgery and weeks of low level electrocution." He could hear the grimace in your tone.
"How invasive are we talking here?" Crosshair asked slowly, having a feeling he'd regret asking. You sighed.
"We shouldn't have to do an internal examination... odds are it's a neural problem that will show up with imaging. Probably.... Probably an MRA scan, followed by a PET scan if that doesn't work out..." You force yourself to take a breath. "Those are the machines that go around you from the outside. Loud and clanky and annoying but they get the job done."
Crosshair relaxed a little more at this.
"There's also the issue of you adjusting to not having your chip. That thing." You spat the words. "Has been altering your perception of reality, your long term memory processing, and even regulation your trauma reactions for weeks, if not longer. I'm wary of putting you in such a sensory intense environment. If you were to suffer a flashback, or a PTSD induced anxiety attack, that would throw off your entire scan, forcing us to stop and start once you're out of it and in a 'neutral' state. And stress is not your friend right now. It would severely delay your healing. I'm not looking forward to my next call with Rampart. But it could be several months until you're even at what you used to be."
Crosshair doesn't say anything for the longest time. "They're going to decom me." He said eventually. "There's no reason to keep me. They pushed too hard and broke me. And now there's no reason to keep me." He scrubbed at his face, going to rub harshly at his eyes.
"Crosshair, you're nowhere near healed!" You scold. "You're going to scratch your cornea."
"Like this shabla empire cares anymore!" He snapped back, his teeth gritted as he pushed himself up into a better sitting position, swaying as the aftereffects of anesthesia screw up his sense of balance and he sways.
"Crosshair, take it easy." Your voice is tired. "I'm right next to you, I'll have to pull your hands away myself if you go digging at your eyes like that again." Crosshair jerked his hands away, turning his head to listen and gage your proximity.
"Doc, they're just going to kill me for spare parts. I don't want them getting the one thing that makes me worth anything." There was a pleading note in his voice as he reached for his eyes anyways. Your hands caught his wrists and he froze.
"Cross, I won't let them. Now, I haven't slept since the night before you went into surgery and I am mentally and physically exhausted right now. Please, don't make my job more difficult than it needs to be and keep your eyes in their sockets. I don't think I could physically fight you right now, so even if I have to resort to begging I will." You kept careful hold of his wrists. In a flash, he flips his hands over and grips yours, glaring in the direction of your voice.
He feels the heat coming off the still persistent bruising from where he had gripped your hand, and the fine tremor in your wrists and fingertips.
"You're shaking." He grumbles.
"I haven't slept in nearly thirty six hours, I'm probably dehydrated and I'm kriffing terrified that you might do something stupid in order to escape the massive amounts of repressed trauma from the chip manually controlling your brain." You don't have the energy to snarl. Crosshair drops your hands like they burned him, reaching up to rub at his eyes but changing his mind to rake his hand through his hair. Silver curls stick up at odd angles before he gives you a look.
"To to bed, Doc. The... reg can do his job for a while." He can hear the disdain in his own voice for the other clone. "If you're serious about fighting for me, you'll need rest."
You laugh bitterly. "Who's the nurse here?"
"Not you. You made that very clear." Crosshair could practically hear you rolling your eyes.
"Yeah, you're just lucky I bothered with nursing school and optometry. Ok. I'm out of your hair." He listened to the rustle of your uniform give way to fading footsteps.
In the resounding silence, with only the heart monitor to keep him company, he mulled over what you had revealed.
He wanted to blame everything on a chip. In part, he knew it had something to do with his struggle to fight orders, with his memories feeling off and stiff, his brothers off and out of character since the start of the Empire.
But.
The anger, the confusion was still there. He knew the Empire was corrupt. He heavily suspected before, killing off refugees and nonhumans without even a second thought. But this sort of control, in every head of every soldier?
He thought back to Omega. She knew. She must’ve known. That his chip was… what? More powerful? Enhanced? She had tried to fight it for him, that day in containment. Before he was formally part of the Empire.
Crosshair was jolted out of his thoughts by a knock on the doorframe of the… recovery ward? The room he was in.
“Thought you were going to take a nap.” Crosshair grunted, expecting you to be back again for some stupid test or to tell him he wasn’t drinking enough water or something.
“She is. I even made her go back to her own quarters and everything.” The voice of the reg came from the doorway. “So, unfortunately you have to deal with me instead.”
Crosshair grunted, surprised he actually felt a flash of disappointment at the reg’s presence.
“I’ll admit, I was shocked the Empire would let her work on the last member of their precious ‘bad batch.’ You’re the sniper, right?” The reg’s voice came from his right as he fiddled with something mechanical sounding, the heart monitor maybe?
“Was.” Crosshair snorted bitterly. “Kinda a problem with that now.” He waved a hand in front of his empty eyes for emphasis.
The reg laughed. “Commander, you’re in the care of the Empire’s finest optician. And-“ There was a flicker of warmth on the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheeks. “She’s outsourcing your case to some of her fancy secret contacts. And you got a decent neurologist for a brother too, if I don’t say so myself.” The reg was smiling smugly; Crosshair could hear it in his voice. He curled his lip slightly at the ‘brother’ comment, but it still struck him as odd. He hadn’t heard a reg call another clone brother since…
“You took your chip out too.” Crosshair realized aloud. The reg chuckled.
“Yeah. A field medic I knew in training reached out to me before the war ended. Not long after he went missing from his own bunk in Corascanti airspace. Figured if the republic cared so much to cover it up to attack their own troops it must be true. Tracked down a droid who knew how to do the procedure and sure it enough it was there.”
Crosshair flinched hard as the bed underneath him adjusted. The reg laughed. “Jumpy, arncha? I think you knew the guy too. Kix ring a bell?”
“I don’t bother with the names of regs.” Crosshair glared, but it was a facade. He did remember Kix, Rex’s medic. He was the quieter of the two others Rex and Cody brought. Hair grown over a tattoo on the side of his head, and sad eyes. The eyes of a man who’d lost too much in too little time.
“He was a good man. Risked everything to tell me.” His reg babysitter tsked softly at the name comment. “I think that’s worth remembering.”
“Maybe.” Crosshair admitted.
“My name’s Bev. Maybe one day I’ll be remembered too.” The reg said. “Right. You try and get some rest, I’ll be back in an hour or two.”
Crosshair would never admit it, but he never forgot Bev’s name either.
[A/N: Chapter three is up, four is finished and I'm working on Five. We're looking at... Eight? Chapters? Eh, between eight and twelve... maybe fifteen, max. Anyways, Tag list!:
@the-hexfiles @moon-wrecked @stunkbiggu @urfriendlyneighbornightfury @anotherschuylersister @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker @rinwritesfics @pb-jellybeans @merkitty49 @chicknstripz @bambambunny ]
#soft crosshair#the bad batch#tbb crosshair#crosshair x reader#tbb crosshair x reader#crosshair imagine#tbb crosshair imagine#hurt/comfort#crosshair#WalkByFaith#GingerWrites
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Flower, My Flower
→SUMMARY: The long-awaited prequel of Loki, My Loki where Loki and Y/N share a final moment before deciding what to do for their relationship
→PAIRING: Loki x gn!reader
→WARNING: break up, angst if you can count that as warnings, some typos, Frigga is here??
→NOTES: It is longer than I thought I would write, but I really got into it.
The night quickly shrouded the living room in darkness as the night was exceptionally long this time. For they were looking as a small portal opened behind them. Swift on their feet, Frigga enters, her pale purple robe sweeping the dust on the hardwood floor.
'Frigga.' Y/N said, their voice miniature at the goddess standing before them. 'I was expecting-' 'Loki. I know, and that is why I am here before him.' 'Is he okay?'
Frigga remained quiet while she sat on the nearest sofa, crossing her arms on her knees. 'He is fine. Odin and I made the decision...'
Y/N knew what she meant. Loki was describing each time they were alone. The next King. Loki being burdened with the glorious purpose he carried on his shoulder. Frigga sat down with an uneasy motion looking at the human who stole his son's heart with no knowledge of how much they took.
'Loki is about to be King. And I desired to talk to you about it.'
'I know Loki explained all about the coronation. The house is starting to feel crowded.' Y/N laughed awkwardly
The evidence was clear. Frigga saw the ancient books stacked on a table with Loki's most unlikely, unquestionably invention, bringing all of his study material into his home. She could feel his scent as if he was here, but beats before her, she could see Loki's helmet shining in the bedroom, even when shrouded in the night light. Looking back at her ring-decorated fingers, the All-Mother speaks, 'The problem lies with-'
'Me.' Y/N spoke with a subdued undertone with a harsh tone. Frigga exhaled heavily
'Yes. Mortality is-'
'I know, I, Uhm, always knew it would be.' Y/N halted to take a deep inhale, her voice starting to show cracks.
'I just didn't think it would ever end.' Her eyes glazed with a shine of vulnerability that Frigga knew all too well. Sometimes, she saw when Thor broke up with Jane, inevitable heartbreak.
'Does Loki know?' Y/N asked, looking at the floor.
'No...he does not. I wanted to talk with him about it, but unfortunately, he is too involved in everything and would not comprehend if I said it. Therefore...'
'I should break his heart…' she asked with uncertainty dripping out her mouth.
'Yes.' The answer turned the uncertainty into realization. She had to do the thing she swore to Loki under the starry skies that she would never do.
'I don't think I can do that.' Y/N spoke words brokenly, their hands gripping the shirt on them, clutching for dear life. The gaze falls flat, reminiscing instantly with all memories with Loki. His first carnival, Y/N's first ball in Asgard, Loki's first dinner experience at 3 am, Y/N's first Asgadrain botanical garden walk accompanied by private orchestral music as they walked around... The memories rang throughout Y/N's head, cementing themself and inflating her decision more,and more,and more...
'I really can not... I love him.' looking at Frigga, Y/N saw the crooked smile and held back tears in All-Mother.
'This is for the better, darling. You will age, and he will remain the same.'
'But why can't I be with him until I end?!' Y/N voice raises, the room tensing
Frigga stepped closer, placing a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder, explaining loudly enough for Y/N to look at her. 'Because for Loki to become a King, he has to marry a royal of eternal blood.'
Y/N comprehended there was no way for them to be together, no way to change Frigga's mind, no possibility for them to run away as it would all deteriorate Loki from his rightful path.
'We-we love each other.'
'Everyone gave up on love in their lifetime for a greater purpose.'
'Mother...What are you doing here?' Loki's voice rang through the room, alarming both Y/N and Frigga. Loki sees Y/N teary eyes and Frigga's fallen smile. Striding towards Y/N, he hugs them, bringing them close to his heart. The comforting action before would make Y/N smile but now, feeling as if this would be the last one Y/N shattered, sobbing into his chest.
'Why did you tell her?!' Loki snapped at his mother.
'She had to know. It needs to be done.' Frigga trekked back, waving her hand up, disappearing, and leaving them alone.
Y/N pulls back, whispering, 'Your mom is right. We could never be together.'
Loki replied wholeheartedly, 'She doesn't comprehend our love. We have an agreement.'
Y/N whimpers glimpsing into his blue pleading eyes. 'What does our plan mean if we cannot be together... I want to marry you, Loki,I really do. But before you met me, you wanted to be a King. You can do so much more as King of all the nine realms. I carry no power of any kind, and I can't offer you much.'
'That is utter nosnense, Y/N!' Loki spoke with his harsh commanding voice as his hands caressed and soothed Y/N's back. 'No one in all the nine realms could give me the support and love you have given me. I want to be King, but...I want to be yours as well, and it extinguishes me that I have to choose. I want to be the King and offer you a life of no hardships, no pain, and no sad tears. I want to offer you the whole universe.'
Pulling away, Y/N sniffles, 'I want to see you on the throne. I want to see you fulfill your dream that you told me so much and long about during our nights together. I want to make sure that you are happy with someone of eternal blood and continue your life-'
'-Y/N?! What are you saying??'
'I have never met someone who loved me with every single breath in their soul like you did, Loki. I will never forget you.' Y/N's body is giving out the strength to stand, falling short. Loki also kneels, cupping her face, his thumb landing on her trembling lips.
Loki knew. That all the moments he had with Y/N are coming to a standstill. His actions and powers died down watching his love and reason he lived carrying their soul out. He had to say something for both of them to give them hope this time.
'Y/N! This is not the end! Wait for me, please. I will never marry or love anyone else but you. You are my eternal love. I will find a way.'
I will find a way.
#loki smut#loki fanfic#loki odinson#loki x gender neutral reader#loki x reader#loki laufayson imagine#loki laufeyson x you#loki laufeyson imagine#avengers imagine#avengers headcanon#avengers au#tom hiddelston imagine#tom hiddelson#tom hiddleston x reader#loki angst#marvel#marvel imagine#loki friggason#reader insert#gender netural reader
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Are you really fully nonverbal since birth? If so what technologies are you or your caregivers using to run this blog? Do you use discredited techniques such as Facilitated Communication, or the Rapid Prompting Method? I am glad that people on Tumblr are starting to recognize that the severely autistic exist but wary of many of these “nonverbal blogs” run by (I’m assuming) either FC users who have no control over the words attributed to them, or late-regressed people who despite losing verbal abilities have the cognitive capacity (even with self-described profound ID) that individuals like for example my older brother and those in his day program could only dream of.
You seem to have sent parts of this ask to many people, haven't you? Not curious at all, huh? 😄
Alright, gonna answer it anyway.
I never learned to speak, yes, so that's "from birth" for the lack of a better expression.
I wrote about how I communicate here:
Every nonverbal/nonspeaking person has their own individual method of communication that works for them best. RPM is very good for apraxic people who can't type. Some learn to write, but that's rare. They can't reliably press the buttons on an AAC device either, because their body "has a mind of its own", so to speak. Therefore spelling is very good because they can correct any mistakes their body makes quicker and they get immediate feedback by another person on the letter they just touched. Many apraxic autistics don't struggle with language, they're "only restricted by their body" and therefore this method is ideal for them.
I can't tell you anything about facilitated communication, though.
I think you wrongly assume that everyone who never learned to speak can't communicate on their own online. That's true for some, but not for everyone. I personally can express myself best online, it's harder in real-life. I don't have ID, as stated in my blog description, and I type on my phone. No other aids required. I used to have an AAC device, but I made a lot of progress, and at some point it became too restrictive to me (because I knew more and more words and wanted to use them to be more nuanced, something that's rare for people with language disorders), which was when I switched to typing.
"Many of these nonverbal blogs" use AAC devices and can very well control what button they press, what the buttons mean, and once you make an effort to actually understand their speech pattern, you very well understand what they want to tell you, and that they're quite comfortable with what the device allows them to write. Even those with profound ID. No hate, but this sentence sounds very hostile. Never compare autistics you know to autistic you don't know in real life. You're prone to generalising everyone that way. Old and very common and unfortunate mistake of people who can speak.
You have to try to understand every person individually. Everyone thinks and communicates and writes differently and individually. And it's absolutely wrong to still assume that RPM is bad, even though RPM users have stated that they absolutely benefit from this method multiple times. They're always ignored just because some speaking people can't comprehend that assisted communication isn't manipulative or "speaking over them". It really isn't. And it's pretty ableist to always insist that because that way they ignore what those people have to say. And THAT actually is speaking over them then. Not the method.
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So like I love angst and so do many of your followers I bet too since many of the asks sent are angst related so like this headcanon isn't applying to just one sheep, it can apply to whoever but I feel that this could apply to young shroud, the Lil rose, and little schoenheit, mainly shroud.
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If you have ever read land of the lustrous, you'd be amazed and deeply saddened in the change in the Mc, phos. Not that the characterization is bad or anything, it's just depressing. I want phos to be happy, to no longer fear burdened, I just want them to smile again. Phos once was a ray of sunshine, always smiling, naive, curious, and had a need to be useful to their siblings. Then as the story progresses, so does phos, she becomes so unfamiliar it feels another person but it's still them. Even after all that change, it's still them.
These panels here show just one character, Phos. Her from when the series first began all the way to her 3rd-5th change in like chapter 70+ (rough estimate)
That brings me to my main point. In these panels we see phos seeing a hallucination of their former self. Phos doesn't recognize herself, she has become something completely different from her former years that she didn't even know who that gem was. Phos has lost themselves in the pursuit of their goal.
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"Nothing is never set in stone, not even death"
From reading your fics showcasing young shroud's past made me a sense of melancholy at the back of my throat (This is good it means you're good at writing making hurt like this). That feeling of dread as you describe how much they adore ortho and their elder brother, the dread in the back of your mind as you know what is to come.
I imagine that you intended for the young shroud to be a joyous, smart child, one with a life full happiness ahead of them. Curious they are, eager to know all there is to possibly comprehend. Just perhaps they were too Curious that it drove everyone away after an incident that tipped them over.
"I didn't know! What was I supposed to do!?! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO!?"
After being blamed for the death of their beloved brother, you mentioned that they shut themselves away working to bring him back from the dead, though, with a few...changes.
This goal of theirs was must. It must be accomplished no matter what, for his sake. Shroud is willing to sacrifice their soul, mind, and body if it means ortho comes back. No matter what.
Timeskip to when they overblot cause their story ain't finish.
I just feel it hit real hard if we get a scene similar to the panels I shown. Perhaps they're in a point in their overblot that even if Lil shroud is saved, they won't come out completely intact. They lose maybe a part of their body or mind and they don't even know it. I just what goes on the heads of those who overblot. Will the Little shroud even realize what they're doing to their brothers? Their friends?
Make it hurt more if that they destroy ortho's mechanical body, losing him just as they did all those years ago. Would they even know that they did that to their beloved brother? Perhaps the young shroud is far to gone emotionally that the words of their loved ones can't reach their heart.........
"Who are those children?"
Perhaps their overblot reqches a tipping point where their mind begins to run through all possible memories to figure out a way to save them from ending their story far too soon. That child still has a lot to live for. And just maybe their mind lands on a memory from when they were a child, before the passing of their younger brother, when it was just idia, ortho, and them. A memory from when they were still naive and unknowing of many things in their world, when they had no understanding of loss.
"That......that child there?"
They wouldn't recognize the children in scene as they observe a far as a fourth person. Disassociating themselves from who they once were. And as the first year observes the children playing in a white out facility, one catches their attention. A child with eyes full of curiosity and wonder. An innocence held their eyes glistened under the artificial light. The child laughed and grinned as they ran around with their brothers.
"Oh...that child is....that child....th....oh god..."
"How could I ever I blame you?"
The first I bet when the young shroud ever fell in love was after meeting their baby brother first time. They meet a baby full of purity, a wonder and greatest curiosity gifted to their life. They would protect and teach him all there is to know in this world.
They second time they fell in love was at this moment of realization. How could they ever that child, blame them for the death of their brother? They were young, unknowing, how could a child naive as them ever grasp the terror of those monsters? How could that child know?
I feel that shroud would approach the mirage of their former self and just kneel and cry. Just cry and cry as they ask themselves how they could ever hate such an innocent child. How does one hate a child as naive as them? How? Just how? What was the point of loathing an existence so pure and kind as that child? How could they ever hate themselves?
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The consequences for an overblot as severe as theirs I feel would lead to life long physical consequences. Like losing the ability to walk, hear, or see, something. But that would be find with them. They can cry and cry all they want and that in itself is a gift for they, for the first time in years, fell in love once more.
oooh yeah this concept def fits a few of the black sheep :O
esp lil shroud with the new chapter for their fic, the way that they don't recognize themselves fits the part when lil shroud goes up onto the upper floors. ofc, they still recognize its them in the fic but after the experiment, there is a possibility they wouldnt.
for an overblot, maybe that's how they get saved from the overblot? because they get so distracted by the realization that this pure innocent child is them and they've practically killed them would probably be enough to drag them out of the overblot, or at least enough for the others to help them :((
100% lil shroud first fell in love (platonically ofc) when ortho was brought home for the first time. id say idia probably felt the same when lil shroud and ortho both came home :))
as for who lil shroud was before ortho's death, yes, they were meant to be this pure, curious child that would have definitely been an influence on ortho's personality. but because of his death and lil shroud's banishment, that child disappeared D:
maybe, if their parents didn't do what they did, lil shroud would have still been that child. who knows?
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about your fic i just wanted to say that i have been reading since chapter 10 and i get excited every time you upload.. my mind can’t comprehend the fact that it’s about to end omg 😅
i have read so many quaritch fics but i can fully say that my all time favorite is yours. the description is so good that i truly don’t have words to describe how amazing it is and i can also say that it’s my favorite fic that i have EVER read. mind you, i started reading fics way back in middle school - from wattpad to ao3 and i’ve gone through so many fics but nothing can top yours. and i mean this truly. i fell in love with the ash navi clans, zu, and spider in particular and i LOVED the battle/war chapters especially when it was between neytiri and zu because writing fights must be so difficult yet you did it so effortlessly and reading it felt as though i was witnessing it in real time. and most of all, our man miles in this fic is just so well written… i’m speechless.
i also got to improve my english reading skills through this fic (english isn’t my first language)
however, now that its coming to an end i just wanted to say thanks for writing such an amazing fic. your fic deserves so much more recognition bc of how well it is written.
all the best and i hope you continue writing. this is quite long but i think writers like you that are so dedicated & talented need to be acknowledged & thanked more for their work ❤️
also, literally the only thing that helped me “relax” was by reading your fic during my finals AND mid term crisis 😭😭😭
**i highly recommend you add tags like “quaritch/reader” or “quaritch/original female characters” + “miles quaritch/original female characters” and other popular tags to help increase recognition bc i searched for those in the beginning !! happy to say i was here since chapter 10 🙏🏻
Wow. I need you to know that this comment is so incredibly validating and timely, truly. I don't have the words for how this has elevated me on a day that, to be honest, I really needed it. I have to say that my emotions have been wild as this story comes to its close. Swirling thoughts of "Oh my gosh why did I do this?" "Is it even good?" "Was writing this a good use of my time/worth it?"
But then I realize that comments like yours, and the fact that I was always joyed *while* I was actually doing the writing-- is the reason why I have continued. And that, yes, this has been worth it! And I am also sad and can't believe that it's coming to a close.
I am so exulted that you have enjoyed my story. And wow, since Chapter 10? That's early February! You're awesome ^_^ And hey, I may keep writing! Expect some details of what that might entail in the last chapter's story notes when it goes up.
But seriously. Thank you so, so, so much 💙 and I am also so happy my story has helped you with your English reading skills and got you through exams! I remember those days all too well, believe me haha
Also, I re-added those tags! (let me know if they're the correct ones). Thanks so much for looking out. I definitely had them in the beginning, I am not sure why I removed them lol
#avatar fanfiction#quaritch fanfic#recom miles quaritch#quaritch x oc#ash na'vi oc#ash people#lyle wainfleet#mansk#miles quaritch#spider socorro#quaritch fanfiction#atwow fanfiction#avatar the way of water#avatar 3#ANMAF#thanks for reading
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Can I really change my entire facial structure with the law alone? Because normally surgeries are performed and even with surgeries you don't always look so good, if my desire is to be the most beautiful woman in the world as never seen before in history, I am not yet, I am a normal girl, but on the other hand I want all this to be fulfilled by the time I am 18 and in two months I turn 18, I don't have the money to pay for a surgery, I really don't know how it would be like magic to change the facial structure with the law, such as eye color, among other aspects.
The short answer is yes, YES YOU CAN - there is nothing stopping you but limiting beliefs in this case and you are worried about the ‘How’ - THE HOW DOESN’T MATTER, THE CIRCUMSTANCES DON’T MATTER. IF YOU WANT TO CHANGE YOUR PHYSICAL APPEARANCE AND THAT IS YOUR DESIRE FOLLOW THE LAW AND IT SHALL BE SO!
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Let me explain...
From we are children growing up we're conditioned that things like what you desire are labeled as 'impossible' and it can only be done with surgeries and all that now not true at all. And like you this was some shocking news to me but yes it is true. Remember the true reality is in our minds. Everything in the 3D is the inner self pushed out. So change your assumption of yourself and the outside world will follow.
There is also tons of proof that it is possible. it seems you'd like proof because your logical mind can't comprehend. can’t stress this enough. TAKE LOGIC OUT OF MANIFESTING - LOGIC DOESN’T APPLY HERE. BYE BYE LOGIC. WE ARE LIMITLESS BEINGS WE DON’T WORK WITH LOGIC! LOGIC IS 3D STUFF WE IGNORE THE 3D THEREFORE WE IGNORE LOGIC WHEN IT COMES TO THE LAW AND ANY OTHER MANIFESTING TECHNIQUES.
A simple search on YouTube will show you dozens of people who have done exactly what it is that you’ve described and more. Yes that includes changing their eye color too! I will link you 2 videos, videos that I’ve personally watched that helped to convince me that anything is possible and you can change your physical appearance with just the law and/or the use of subliminals.
1. MANIFEST PHYSICAL CHANGES (ANYTHING) SCARY FAST + HOW I DID IT USING THE LAW OF ASSUMPTION, THE LAW OF ATTRACTION
2. GUIDE TO MANIFEST & CHANGE YOUR PHYSICAL APPEARANCE (LAW OF ATTRACTION + SUBLIMINALS, 100% WORKS)
These are videos I’ve personally watched. So I recommend you checking them out as she will clear up all your doubts and worries in relation to this. Also I recommend you going on Instagram and just search subliminal results too (if you wanna give subs a try and see the results people have had from them), if you don’t wanna use subs that's ok, remember your mind is stronger than any sub you can do it without the use of subs.
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I literally stopped answering your question to watch this video for you on how this girl changed her eyes without subs, I do this because I don’t just wanna recommend you anything I personally haven’t done research on, watched or listened to myself - I am not here to bullshit anyone. I take this stuff very seriously... maybe a little too serious lmao but I can’t help it I love it.
Here is the video: MY EYE COLOR CHANGED FROM BROWN TO HAZEL GREEN (NO SUBLIMINAL) - what she said at the end hit home for me when she’s like “if you wish something too badly it will never happen” - though that might be a limiting belief that really hit home for me.. again I’m human and though I try to detach as much as possible I have some assumptions that I keep looking for results for and sis in the video told me exactly what I needed to hear in her conclusion. HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU WATCH IT - ESPECIALLY IF YOUR A PERSON THAT DOUBTS ALOT AND SOMEONE WHO CONSTANTLY OBSESSES OVER RESULTS.
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To end, no you don’t need surgery or all that extra stuff all you need is your mind, faith, belief and your own “I-Am-ness”. NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE HUN, LITERALLY NOTHING. Do your RESEARCH and see that nothing is impossible to you. It may take some time because I think both ladies in their videos said something about it take about a year or 2 (this may not be the case for you it can be faster or maybe a bit longer) - “EVERY SEED HAS IT’S APPOINTED HOUR” literally the part of Neville’s quote that's getting me out of bed in the morning... just because you don’t see immediately results doesn’t mean its not you won’t get them just be patient - it’s already yours, hold that assumption and stick to it with carry it with faith and belief; and if you do get immediate results that's awesome!
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Also very important point I just saw this when I re-read your question before posting. By you denying you’re not the most beautiful girl in the world you’re already putting yourself down and made it harder for your new assumption to blossom. DO AWAY WITH THAT RIGHT NOW GURL YOU ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD AND YOU DON’T NEED ME TO TELL YOU THAT, TELL YOURSELF THAT AND KEEP TELING YOURSELF THAT UNTIL IT FEELS NATURAL - YOU DON’T NEED ANY EXTERNAL VALIDATION FROM ANY MF (sorry for the cursing I got passionate here lol) TO TELL YOU YOU’RE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL IN THE WORLD. THE ONLY VALIDATION YOU NEED IS YOUR OWN - WHAT OTHERS THINK THATS ON THEM BUT WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT YOURSELF IS WHAT COUNTS THE MOST!
Also happy birthday 🥳 when it comes! (or happy belated birthday if it already passed) sorry I’m going through a back log of messages and I’m not sure if this is a recent ask or an old one. Either way I hope you enjoy/enjoyed your day! You’re beautiful! Happy Manifesting!💓💓
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[Fic] Call Signs, Chapter 31
Fandom: Deltarune
‘Verse: Human AU
Pairing: Swatch/Spamton [Swatchton]
Characters: Spamton Addison, Swatch Paletta, Mike Cowley [flashback]
Rating: Mature
Chapter title: Trash Landing, Part Two
Chapter summary: Spamton describes his final break with Mike. This provides Swatch with answers, but raises even more questions in their mind.
Author notes: Trigger and content warnings, yet again, for dubious consent, altered mental states, and violence. Also alcohol mentions.
I'm out of my head.
Nothing makes sense.
Mike is shaking my shoulders as I lie shivering in a bed somewhere, cold sweats and worse soaking the sheets. He calls me a disgusting little worm and not worth his time and I should just die if I'm going to, it would serve me and everyone else right if I did.
I try to move away from him manhandling me, but I can't keep my eyes open anymore.
_______________________
Mike has me bundled in a quilt and wrapped in his arms, crooning in my ear in what I think is Gaelic, but I don't know the song. We're in a room with a roaring fireplace and I'm much too warm and I can't move.
I pass out from the heat.
_______________
The chiding and the coddling seem to alternate for unfathomable stretches of time.
Time without end.
I don't know how many days go by.
There's food sometimes. Other times I'm told I haven't worked hard enough to deserve to eat.
There are voices sometimes. Names that are mentioned that I can't quite make out.
There are touches I shudder away from and touches I scream for.
There’s a window just out of reach. Blue skies, white clouds, yellow rays of sunlight. It doesn't look real to me, what I'm seeing.
_______________
Finally comes a day when I *do* comprehend the passage of time, a day when I know where I am and can trust that I can sit up without getting dizzy.
I manage to move so that I can hang my legs off the side of the bed and put my feet on the floor. It takes twenty minutes, according to the digital clock radio next to me, but I do it.
How long have I been sick?
After ten more minutes I feel up to standing. I stay near the bed in case my legs buckle, but they don't.
I find Mike in the hallway outside my room, sitting on the backless settee on the landing at the top of the spiral staircase.
He points at the floor with the air of someone who's done this a thousand times before. Without even thinking, I drop to my knees as though I'VE done this a thousand times before, and bend my head.
He puts his hand on my neck and pushes down. He tells me where to put my hands, where I should put my mouth.
I do what I'm supposed to do, as though I've done this a thousand times before.
Maybe I have.
I can't remember.
He's moaning loudly and telling me what a good puppet I am, and this time something about that word makes my mind snap, and my teeth along with it.
The next thing I know I'm flying through the air and the wrought iron railings are whizzing past my line of sight and I land at the bottom of the stairs.
I don't remember anything else until I wake up in the hospital.
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Spamton had been talking nonstop for more than an hour. Swatch heard the hoarseness in their partner's voice and longed to reach out, to take the small man in their arms and to run with him, carrying him somewhere far away from the rest of the human race.
But they had promised not to touch, not to interrupt.
Spamton had not spared any details of the time period of working for Mike, including the year of the disastrous trade show junket.
Not one single humiliating detail.
Mike had convinced Spamton, and in turn Spamton had convinced himself, that Mike owned him.
In their own head, Swatch could read between the lines of what Spamton was telling him. They could extrapolate how the mind games that Mike had played had led to Spamton "paying Mike back" in carnal currency.
Swatch shifted on the stair where they were sitting as they let more of Spamton’s tale wash over them. One sentence pulled them out of their introspection.
“He threw m-me d-d-down the stairs because I bi-bi-bit him.”
That sentence spurred Swatch into breaking their promise halfway. They didn't try to touch Spamton, nor to interrupt him with words. But they did open their arms wide, their cane clattering as they dropped it.
Spamton fell forward with a sigh, trusting Swatch to catch him. It was awkward, but they managed it, pulling him to their chest and into their lap. Spamton dug his sharp chin into Swatch's shoulder, his breath ragged but starting to slow down as Swatch rubbed his back.
Finally Swatch murmured, "I'd have bitten him too."
When that didn't get a reply from Spamton, Swatch decided to try a different tactic to break the tension, saying aggrievedly, "My butt's cold."
That got the laugh they wanted, along with his comment, "What - what happened t-t-to 'rump'? You always say 'rump'."
"Apologies, I forgot myself. My RUMP is cold."
"That's better," Spamton replied, his voice still shaky, but with a smile in it.
"I'm serious though. It's getting late and the wind’s picking up. I'm still listening, but can we talk and walk at the same time to warm up?"
"I g-guess so." Spamton leaned over to grab Swatch’s cane from where it had slid, two steps below where they both now sat. He handed it over and then slid off Swatch’s lap so that they could get to their feet. He then stretched and cracked his back. “You’re r-right, it is getting colder, and it f-feels like rain.”
Swatch held a hand out to Spamton in turn, asking as they did so, “Are you still going to try to see if someone can do your show tonight? It’s not really stretching the truth if you say your voice is shot.”
“Uh-huh. Let m-me text Leroux.” Spamton stood with Swatch’s help, then pulled his phone out of his hoodie’s pocket. He sent a message quickly, and the two headed down the stairs back to the street level.
The half-timbered houses of Fieldston gave way to apartment buildings as they walked side by side. The rest of the story came out in Spamton’s halting and hitching voice.
Waking up in the hospital. No one able or willing to answer his questions about how he got there without money, keys, or identification. No one having any idea who Mike was. No one on duty able to remember how a packed garment bag with his name on it had been left at the nursing station. No one trying terribly hard to dissuade him from leaving against medical advice. Getting dressed in the black pullover sweater and green chinos that he found in the garment bag. Feeling his heart thump at what was and what wasn’t in that garment bag.
Walking for what felt like hours back to the Pandora Palace. Being told by both the doorman and the elevator operator that Mike had moved out last week, leaving no address, and that it was presumed Spamton had moved out as well. Being barred from going up to the fourth floor by the elevator operator. Being handed a wad of bills from the doorman’s pockets, presumably tips, and seeing eyes full of pity. Going to a bank branch and finding his account closed. Wandering the streets in shock, not caring where he ended up.
“I remember thinking that maybe T-Tallulah could let me crash at her place, but then I - then I remembered it was Fashion Week in P-Paris, and she usually spent all of - of October in France with her brother and her sister-in-law. And I sure as h-hell wasn’t going to t-try to g-get in t-touch with anyone n-named Addison.”
Spamton snorted and continued, disgust heavy in his tone, “It j-just didn’t - didn’t occur to me that I had a choice anymore. I’d shoved away everyone I knew. I went from b-b-being a somebody to a nobody. In m-my messed-up head I figured I d-d-d-d-deserved to be thrown away like - like garbage, so it was time to go LIVE in the garbage. And that’s where Ballew f-found me. Half-dead in a d-d-dumpster.”
The next words were muttered in such a low tone that Swatch could barely hear them. “I was such an idiot. And Mike got away with ruining my life.”
He started walking faster and faster, and Swatch almost had to run to keep pace. They put one hand on Spamton’s shoulder to try to slow him down, but the other shrugged it off. There was a hard look on the short man's face.
Swatch did not doubt for a moment that if the corpse of Michael John Galvin Cowley were to materialize in front of either of the two of them, they’d both be taking gleeful turns kicking it.
Spamton finally seemed to run out of steam once the two of them were back on Broadway and familiar ground. He reached out to tuck his hand in the crook of Swatch’s elbow, heaving a deep sigh. “I wish I c-could say I felt better after dumping all that.”
“Well, it might sound odd, but I actually DO feel better hearing it, believe it or not.”
“So next t-time it’s your turn to - to dump.”
“Hmmmm. Not keeping score here.”
Dark had fallen without either of them noticing, and Swatch’s stomach rumbled. Spamton laughed and leaned his head on Swatch’s arm. His voice still raspy, he asked, “C-can I tr-treat you to tapas , to m-make up for last night, and m-my misunderstanding, and all that?”
Swatch looked down at him and smiled. “You don’t need to make up for anything, my dear. But tapas sounds great. And I won’t be offended if you have sangria .”
“I promise not to d-dance on any tables.”
___________
With surprisingly little fuss, Leroux agreed via text that “DJ Ray” could do both the 8 to 10 and the 10 to midnight slots that evening if “DJ Dreamweaver” agreed to reciprocate next Wednesday.
Spamton slid his phone across the table so his partner could see the message.
“My, oh my. Not even a ‘forsooth’ or a ‘gadzooks’? He must be losing his touch.” Swatch delicately nibbled on the last skewer of pollo and tried not to think about the menu prices. They had to admit that the assortment of small dishes was delicious, and if Spamton felt the need to splurge after his big emotional reveal… Well, different people reacted to baring their souls in different ways.
Swatch watched Spamton as he swirled his sangria in a stemless wine glass. They wondered, if they themself landed not only an internship but a career at Addison Cybernetics, whether they’d ever get used to not counting pennies as a matter of course
The two of them agreed to split a dessert - chocolate lava cake. As they dug in, Spamton asked shyly, “You’re st-still working your shift tonight at Plato’s?”
Swatch nodded.
“C-can I hang out with you?” His eyes looked enormous behind the round glasses. “I d-don’t really want to be alone.”
“I’d love to have your company. Might deter the Russian kid who keeps mentally undressing me with his eyes after he’s had a few Smirnoffs. He’s not at ALL subtle about it.”
“Russian kid… oh g-good gravy, d-d-d-don’t tell me. Kirov Rouvin, right?”
“That’s right. Wait a minute, isn’t he the kid you tutored last semester? The one who ambushed you on Valentine’s Day?”
Spamton made an affirmative noise. Swatch groaned.
“I hate to tell you this, but he’s still got a massive crush on you as well as having the hots for me. I get to hear every week about how you’re the one who got away, and whoever your ‘boyfriend’ is, he doesn’t deserve you. I haven’t had the heart to tell him you’re with me.”
“Oh, man. That’s g-going to be awkward, then.”
“Indeed.”
Spamton sighed. “Well, I’ll play it cool. I won’t - won’t bring it up, but I’m not going to d-deny it if he asks.”
____________
In the end, neither of them had to worry about Kirov. He hadn’t shown up by the time the last call was announced for the night, and Swatch entertained a few suspicions about why, based on the snippets of conversation they’d overheard from other students about ongoing world news. They kept those suspicions to themself, however, and drove a justifiably drowsy, adorably cute, and slight-buzz-fueled touchy-feely Spamton back to the house on Tibbetts Avenue.
Later, Swatch lay flat on their back in bed, looking down at Spamton and listening to him breathe in restful slumber. The shuttered, cynical look that Swatch had glimpsed during the whole disgorging-the-past conversation that afternoon was gone from their partner’s face now. His dimples, when he smiled and gave Swatch a soft kiss before snuggling into their shoulder and dropping off to sleep, were dimples again, not deep furrows that had made him look decades older.
Something still nagged at the back of Swatch’s brain.
The dates didn’t match up.
There was a whole year missing from Spamton’s story.
Did Spamton not know how long he was being gaslighted by Mike, or had he misremembered how long he was homeless and on the streets?
Or had something else happened?
Swatch bit back a frustrated growl, not wanting to waken their sleeping partner, and forcibly composed themself to try to sleep as well. Tomorrow was soon enough to dive back into HDR territory.
Or next week, even.
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well, since you're alright with it, i'm not gonna hold back lol
first of all, i just need to mention interstellar because i love that movie too. though for me it's less about the science and space and more about the way it's made. not to bring my passion into this but it's just such a great movie. the cinematography is fucking incredible and the story is just so insanely good.
continuing, wormholes are just so fascinating to me as a concept!! it would be so cool to find out if they're able to exist and especially if we could "create" them.
ganymede is another moon i think is super pretty to look at. i don't know how to explain it but i really love the way the surfaces look like their own little universes i guess??? that's the best way i can describe it lol
and titan really sounds interesting!! i'm definitely gonna look into the missions you talked about, would love to find out what they could find in samples from there.
last but not least, relating back to something you mentioned, but do you believe in life outside of our planet/solar system??? personally, i think there's actually a pretty high chance of us not being alone in the universe, especially because space is, like, big beyond comprehension lol for me, the thing is more about if we're ever going to be able to get in contact with other life forms (especially in a time were, like, both of us are still alive lol)
oh I wholeheartedly agree—the cinematography in interstellar is phenomenal. I don't know much about the subject, but, after I watched the movie, I turned to my friend and told him about the cinematic beauty of the movie. also!! never apologize about bringing your passion into the conversation!! I'd love to hear more abt the cinematography in interstellar :3
as for the story, I loved it so much. If I didn't major in astronomy, I was gonna major in creative writing. Like—writing is one of my biggest passions, and a common theme I like to both write about and read about is hope. And, ultimately, I feel like that's what interstellar was about. Hope. That no matter how dire it is, hope is always worth it.
Because the people on Earth could have given up and just lived out their lives and not tried. A lot of people wanted to do that. But Murph never gave up. The people chosen to find a new planet for humanity? They could have just gone with Plan B and started from scratch. But they didn't give up. And even after everything went horribly, they could have given up and tried to build on that barely hospitable planet. But they tried that crazy maneuver with using the black hole's gravity, and they didn't give up.
Not only does hope appeal to me in narratives, but it's a big part of why I love space. Space and space exploration in may ways is a representation of hope. At least in my mind.
I think that visually, there's a lot of beauty in a lot of planets and moon. I love the way you described Ganymede's surface :3
Extra terrestrial life??? I absolutely believe there's life out there. I did an entire school project on the statistics back in high school, but, statistically speaking, it's nearly impossible for there to be no life anywhere but this planet. Like you said, space is so big that people just can't truly comprehend it. And it's still expanding.
I think there are a lot of factors to consider when thinking about why we haven't run into any "intelligent" life. (in astronomy, the phrase intelligent life is used to mean life that both wonders about their place in the stars and has the means to send and receive signals from space).
Some of the more intriguing answers to this "paradox" (if life is abundant why haven't we seen it?) are the following:
a) maybe we're just not interesting enough to alien life to be worth communicating
b) it's possible that there's just no other life/intelligent life in this galaxy or even our cluster of galaxies
c) we don't know the timescale at which life exists on. everything we know about life in the universe comes from Earth, and we just haven't been around long enough to know. life on Earth has existed for an incredibly small amount of time. we don't know if life—let alone our definition of intelligent life—exists on a time scale of thousands of years, millions of years, or billion of years. if it's on the lower end of the scale, then it's possible that we just don't be around at the same time as other life (sad)
But, I don't know, I have hope. I have hope that one day humanity will meet other life. Maybe we'll create wormholes and travel to galaxy clusters far far away and find life there. Maybe life will find us. Maybe life in the universe is just beginning, and maybe everyone is simply around the same stage as us.
But I think it's so amazing that people have looked up and the night sky and wondered what's out there. Wondered who's out there. Is anyone out there? I mentioned this before, but space exploration to me is about hope. The hope that Earth wasn't a fluke and that other life does exist. The hope that maybe this—the wonder of space and the excitement at the prospect of life—can be something unifying. The hope that maybe someone else is looking up at different constellations asking the same question we are: are we alone? The hope that the answer to this question will be no.
#I just think it's cool#space#space exploration#space also isn't just the future#it's the past present and future imo#but I'm wrapping the post up here lol#as always ty for the ask sky <3#stella answers#sky cdreambur#astronomy
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hi :))
i just read the invisible thread part 2, after reading part 1, only to remember everything. i feel very soft and full right now thanks to what you wrote and how you write. i already said something when i reblogged the first part, but i couldn't think of something specific to say about to second, so i just reblogged it too with my 5star tag and left it there. but i do want to say thank you. i am having a very rough week for personal reasons and overthinking and those kinds of things teens like me suffer so often these days, but this morning i was lying in bed with horrible cramps and i remembered you had posted the second part to invisible thread recently, so i was willing to read it.
and i did, ofc. but the thoughts i have rn are like -i would say philosophical haha. i think the way you write helps people to understand the way they feel. i mean, i had this feeling all the time, like i should be screenshoting everything or at least being able to have the capacity of highlight some quotes like i do when i am rrading a book with my post its and my markers. all you write is absolutely beautiful, but this work you did with invisible thread will always live in my heart in some sort of way.
i am a firmly believer that we shouldn't accept anything that we don't deserve, but sometimes is hard to understand what we deserve when we are very caught up in our minds. the way you described how not only minho but also yn cared for each other, and how they learnt to be better and grew as individuals is truly admirable, and i think everyone should have the chance to read this once in their lives in order to understand a lot of things about love, and human behavior. i don't know how to say it or if i am explaining myself correctly. and even if it seems like i am crazy or something because is just some writting that someone wrote for fun to post here in tumblr, i can assure you for me is not only that.
i am in a time of my life where i am supposed to build my future self, and things like this (and quotes and thoughts i found on pinterest haha) really help me to create a world of mine where it is okay with having a bad day, or not knowing what to feel, or craving a real romantic conexion, or spending a whole afternoon procrastinating just because i didn't feel like going out and socialise. i really identify with yn, and i look forward to finding the comfort and refuge that she found in minho someday. meanwhile, you inspire me to practise so i can, somehow, somewhere in the future, get to write something as beautiful and deep as this was.
sorry for the rambling, feel free to not share/answer this, and have a lovely morning/afternoon/night ❤️🩹
hiii my love, thank you so much for sending in such a sweet message 🥹 i hope you're feeling better these days and I'm so happy i.t brought you some comfort :")) this truly means the world to me like I can't believe you think so highly of something i wrote ☹️ it genuinely makes me the happiest and i still can't comprehend it fully, so thank you for telling me this <3
take it slow, don't rush yourself to have it all figured out, it takes time and you need to be patient and gentle with yourself throughout it, even if you make mistakes and bad decisions, this is the only way in which we grow,, if you're kind to yourself then at the end of the day, everything will be okay, promise <333
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TW jeffrey dahmer, depression, mention of self-harm, poetic, dark, venting ⚠️ i sorta wonder why the "collective unconscious" / universe decided this show's having it's moment now. i can relate to the "story" on multiple levels. watching the series, something felt oddly familiar and relatable about him. i couldn't put my finger on it until i realized he reminded me of me because i'm autistic, weird and i've always struggled with relationships. i didn't have friends in grade/high school. i don't have any now. maybe he was autistic. i don't want to offend other autistic ppl but i believe sometimes you can have a sense for these things. evan peters is a great actor and the producers knew what they were doing. i don't know if they knew it would be a phenomena of people being a little too curious about what happened. it's easy to suggest that having apathy or perhaps seeing humanity in a cold-hearted person is antiempathy, antijustice but for me it's never about enjoying someone else's suffering. maybe some ppl have seen enough havoc in their own lives. maybe some ppl want to unalive themselves. maybe some ppl are born from generations of trauma. the fuckery goes beyond what words can describe. it doesn't see you as a person. the mind and heart can only take so much until it quite literally hurts and you don't know what to do with it. why would someone who's suffering even a little bit be bothered to care (or put up a front to care) when they barely have the emotional/mental capacity to reconcile their own suffering? when they can hardly care for themselves besides maybe physicality. i used to self harm and sometimes i feel like going back to it because it's one of the few ways i feel good about having a body besides just looks... i feel the same way about most true crime but i don't usually relate to the abuser as another human being, or their background. hell, it's even hard not to be attracted but that's just me. i wonder why some ppl have a sense of moral superiority simply for feeling different feelings and more empathy so they berate others who naturally feel different. of course i'm speaking for myself and i feel for the victims but i just can't. i see a reflection of myself that screams louder to me than any dramatized rehashing of the same events ever will, unfortunately. maybe it's easier for the mind to comprehend that level of psychopathy by romanticizing it. plus tbh why should anyone be defined by their suffering? by their degradation? by their abuser? i can't bring myself to read the names. ive felt degraded to an extent and ill never understand that level. i have a mix of emotions that i can only express so far but hopefully it translates. it is what it is. might delete later.
i'm in a depressed mood sometimes and thoughts create reality. it's just been hard to believe i can change it when i've been shown the same picture, the same story about myself and my place in the world. i'll get over it. i don't believe in forcing anyone's will necessarily. i don't want my family to suddenly become the ideal perfect version i want them to be, just for me. i don't want them in my life in the future. it feels selfish saying that given how much they care and stuff. i'm just tired of not belonging there.
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The Loom of Morbius (Chapter 2 of And the Carnival Awaits: Crockus)
Previous Chapter: Celestine Intervention
----------------------Start of Chapter-------------------
We kept on walking through those dark corridors, until around the corner a dim green-ish light was just about visible, in little wisps. But the colour wasn't actually green, it looked nothing like it, that's just the best way I could describe it. It's as if... As if it were a colour that was next to green, but, like, upwards? and it was as if my mind was altered simply by looking at it so that I could comprehend it. It was beautiful. We followed it, and Koschei occasionally tried to grab at the wisps, but whenever he did, it wasn't like his hand was going through them, but rather like he was clutching at air infront of, or behind, it, even when he held it on all sides. This lead Purple to suggest that the wisps were in dimensions beyond our own, which made us ever more fearful of their source.
(Hello again. Thought you'd got rid of me? Nah, I'm still here. I'm the narrator, you see... Just kidding. Or am I? Anyway, our protagonists - what are you doing in my head. Who are you talking to. Shut up, Cousin. I'll fuck off then, if that's what you want. But just know this, Crockus, you were what you are now, before time began. And you will never have been by the hand of the true threat. That literally made no sense. Hello? Oh, fuck off, when I actually wanna talk you leave, for fuck's sake...)
There it was; the source. We had rounded the last corner, and sitting in the middle of the room was a shining ball of intertwined strings, no, strands, of... Well, it isn't really describable. It felt like many lifetimes all bound around each other, looped over and over, but also necessarily structured. A kind of a mapping of someone's life. No. Of someone's lives.
"Biodata". That was Koschei. Ah, yes. Thats what it was called, I forgot from Biodata Analytics Class in the Academy. He seemed overly solemn, I hadn't seen him like this since, well.... Since he starred into the Schism and pulled out Homeworld up through the continuum. The day he turned mad; the day he dreamt and became Oneiros. Oh, no, I remember one other time, although it was slightly earlier than his Oneiros Transcendence: he was looking at a multidimensional map of someone's lives, displayed as a web-like structure and my future self was there... Hold on. That's now. I'm remembering events that are happening now, twice over.
Complicated, innit? Well, strap in, because we're jumping into the spiders web!
I felt myself walk toward the web, and my past self, "Purple", shouted out and tried to stop me, grabbing my hand. But it was too late. Without knowing why, I walked through, into the unknown.
But that's a lie, isn't it, Crockus? You did know what you were walking into, you remembered, from last time. But that fits your people, lying about who you are all the time. Your people claim to have lost their biology in the Anchoring, something they say was a "sacrifice" - yet they clearly treat it as an excuse to call themselves gods - and yet, here you are. In the flesh, having died to the hands of the lesser species no less than 5 times (reader, if your confused, he died twice before leaving the Homeworld). But you know all of this, don't you? Thats why you did what you did, before coming here. That's why you joined - AANND we stop. Don't go there. How can yu- lalallalalalallalalalalallaallaa can't hear you lalalallaalal alright I won't say it. Fucks sake. Anyway, on with the story. Crockus walked through the web, and I came out the other side, onto a blue battle-ruined field.
All around, I could see devastation. Up above I saw a warship fly down low, and I tried to jump away from it, but then it landed in front of me. From the doors of the warship, a man dressed in silver-grey Dromeian robes walked down. I felt an ancient force, as if this was more than a man, a force so powerful it had caused gods to rise and wars to begin. And I knew who he was, in that moment; he was Morbius, the Imperator.
"Hello, Crockus, my dear boy. Sit with me". He sounded like he was trying to intimate a caring voice, but hadn't ever heard one first-hand, only in fiction. I felt an instantaneous resentment build up, but don't say anything. It's not that I couldn't, but rather that I didn't know what to say to such a monster, so I just stood in silence and listened.
"Sit down, my boy", he repeated, and I found myself sitting, and Morbius did as well, "and let me tell you a story. A story of righteous gods, parasitic monstrosities, and a glorious savour who was shunned by his people.
"10 million years ago, the righteous gods bound the threads of the universe together into a single anchor in order to create Order from Chaos. But a terrible king of crawling evil came through a small hole made by this Anchor, and it was called the Caldera. And this terrible king brought all his people through from his own universe into the righteous gods' universe, and they fought. Gods - lead by Urizen the Architect - against devils, until they all fell and the gods reigned Supreme. The gods made their young through looms, which were made by another god. And nothing changed, for 9,998,798 years.
"and then, 1202 years ago, a glorious emperor was born. He was the first among a new generation of gods who broke the status quo. And he was the best. Heaven had long forgotten it's purpose, and had sat back, ignoring the affairs of the larger universe, rather than reshaping the universe that it had made! ", Morbius's face went red at this point, but then it faded back to normal, clearly displaying his continuous hatred of the Homeworld's policy of nonintervention, "But the glorious emperor, he knew what to do. So he left Heaven, taking with him his righteous angels, and they reshaped the universe to benefit Heaven and it's new would-be King. But then those gods who had stayed in Heaven, scared of their creation, came and took the glorious emperor back to their Homeworld, and they executed him.
"That's where the story normally ends, for most historians. But the story has hardly begun.
"In reality, a small number of people in the Presidency - that is, the innermost circle of the Homeworld - were secretly loyal to the glorious emperor. And so they hatched a plan, to rig the execution-device up to a loom, so that their imperator could rule once again, come the time of a suitable body, mind, and Homeworld.
"And so the years passed, and the War began"
I silently wondered what War he was talking about, but decided not to question it. He continued: "in a desperate attempt to secure Heaven from the righteous gods' mysterious new enemy, one portion of Heaven, calling itself "Lineacrux", cloned the Homeworld of Heaven eight times, creating eight cloneworlds, and hence Nine Homeworlds in total. This project was hence called the "Nine Homeworlds Project" even if there were more later, which there certainly were.
"At some later point, the gods figured out how to take the lives of their various renegades and create new "hatchlings". But secretly, these two projects were merged, so that some of the new cloneworlds created by either the original homeworld or any of its derivatives contained hatchlings' histories, until the project eventually lead to many of the House-Dwellers - I mean, the gods - having hatchlings on the cloneworlds, so that it was now incredibly difficult to tell how far a derivate Homeworld was from the original, or even which one was the original.
"As you could expect, I - the glorious emperor, I mean - played a part in this all, as was his excellency. His secret cult, which had never fallen even as the Order of the Wheel - the publicly-known order he had created - did. His secret cult had made sure that strands of their imperator's biodata made it into all of the hatchling-looms, so that he would have endless bodies to wake up in come the Day of Awakening. ". Finally, the Imperator, Morbuis, the glorious emperor, and the Many-bodied God, finished his monologue, and I finally realised the weight of what the Shift and it's employers... What were they called? Oh yes, the Celestis. I finally realised the weight of what the Celestis had asked me to do, and I saw what this realm really was. Those devil-gods were asking me to bring their mythical satan back to conquer creation, and this realm was the loom he had layed in for all those millennia, and which he had likely gained full control over. My body tensed as I realised the implications of this, and Morbius saw it, and smirked. The threads that held this realm dissolved around me, as I struggled with all my might to hold my own timestream together against the might of Morbius's. Hijacking a loose life-thread that was floating through the air, I channeled it's power back down my own timeline until it reached "Purple" on the outside of the loom again, and told him a single message: get help from the first, Morbius is coming. I had no idea if he'd understand it, but it was the only thing I could think of doing that had any chance of succeeding.
With all the power I could muster, I stood up and punched Morbius in the face. It felt like I'd just punched a rock, and I fell to the floor in pain, wrapped up in a ball. Silently, I hoped I had fixed this all two hundred years ago, or would save me now, two hundred years ago.
And two hundred years ago, I felt a message arrive from what felt like the future. Get help from the first, Morbius is coming. What the hell could that mean - then I remembered. Eighth Man Bound. A game we played in the academy where we'd loose our sense of identity by a continuous chanting of our name. Terribly dangerous, of course, but I had always been dangerous. The reason any of us did it, was because - if you played it right - you could see out of your future incarnations' eyes, most often feeling like you were them. But this message suggested something never before considered: communicating with your past self by taking that same pathway, and running it backwards. I was to allow my first incarnation back at the Academy to "posses" me, and then talk back to them. I briefly wondered why on earth I should do this, but then I saw the loom-web opening, expanding, and shifting to form new shapes. The implication was clear; The Imperator - who the Shift had told us about - was waking up. And, despite everything the Shift had threatened to reveal if we didn't resurrect Morbius, I was still unwilling to participate in the founding of a universal empire.
Theta? Hello? Haha, he's gone... No, please. I knew you shouldn't have done this...
I opened my eyes, and saw Trelundar crying onto my knee. I chuckled, and patted her head. She took her head away, embarrassed and surprised. "You're okay." she whispered, and I smiled a silent yes. I heard an obnoxious scoff to my left, and saw Torvic was still there. He walked off, but not before spitting on me. Pathetic. Ushas and Magnus wondered over to say hello, and I began to talk before my head jerked back and I re-entered the ritual. I could see I was wearing purple clothes this time, and a beautifully dashing man was beside me. Reminded me of Koschei, in fact. And a bit of Magnus? Anyway. Oh, that's weird. This feels different. Like... Oh my. He's talking, to me. That's never happened before. My future self is talking back to me, tell me stuff. He said, or will say, I guess? Anyway, the words are as follows: "Your Professor... Morbius.... He's a... He's connected, I think... I told me... Get him. Get the professor, beat him up. If he kills you then, we'll have never made it to him in the first place... He's a ruthless and radical emperor, who will stop at nothing to crush the "lesser species" under his claw of supremacy... Please... No energy left.... goodbye....", And
#faction paradox#doctor who#great houses#forgotten lives obverse#morbius doctors#koschei oakdown#academy era#alternate timelines#au fic#And the Carnival Awaits
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