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fridayfirefly · 3 years

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The Power of Luck [Chapter One]

Read The Power of Luck on AO3

Masterlist [All Works]

Masterlist [The Power of Luck Series]

Written for Maribat March Day 6 - Miraculous Side Effects

The Ladybug Miraculous had quite a few side effects. Marinette was able to think quick on her feet, she was a skilled tactician in battle, and her reaction time was half that of a normal human. Most notably, the Ladybug Miraculous granted its user the force known as Miraculous Luck, which, depending on the situation, was sometimes more of a curse than a blessing. Marinette didn't get to choose how that good luck manifested. For instance, when she needed an extra day to finish a history project, her school closed down due to a gas leak. Or when she wished for a fresh start after the defeat of Hawkmoth, her parents were offered a deal to grow their bakery business in America.

Marinette assured her parents that she didn't mind moving. After all, most of her class had already moved on. Lila had been deported to Italy, narrowly avoiding jail time. Chloé (much to her dismay) was sent by her father to an all-girls boarding school in England. Adrien was taken in by his Aunt Amelie (as Gabriel was in jail and Emilie was declared brain-dead) and moved to England as well.

No one else from Marinette's class left the country, but many of them moved out of Paris. Nathanial was accepted to an elite art school in Marseille. Max was accepted to a gifted program at an elite school in Bordeaux. Officer Raincomprix was transferred to Toulouse and took Sabrina with him. Juleka and Luka both started homeschooling after their mother sailed the houseboat down the Seine to the city of Rouen.

Worst of all was the loss of Alya. Her parents were horrified that the son of Hawkmoth was in the same class as their daughter, and promptly pulled Alya out of class and decided to move out of the city. Alya begged them for weeks but nothing came of her protests. In the end, Alya left too.

The Miraculous Luck could do a lot of things, but it couldn't keep her friends together. Those who remained at François Dupont filled holes in other classes. Marinette tried to make the best of her new class, but she felt no real connection to them. When her parents proposed the move, Marinette jumped on the opportunity. In Gotham, she wouldn't be haunted by the ghost of her old life.

Marinette cut her hair, leaving it choppy and just above the shoulders. She donated all of her brightly colored clothes to the thrift store down the street and created a new wardrobe for herself. It was toned down and mature, much more fitting for Gotham.

Marinette left Paris a much different girl than the naive fourteen-year-old who thought she could save the world. She was ready for a city like Gotham, a city that didn't make any promises, a city where Marinette could set down some new roots.

-----

At first, it was easy to fly under the radar at Gotham Academy. It was a school filled with the self-absorbed children of millionaires and billionaires, after all. Marinette was there on scholarship - her good grades, leadership experience, and working-class parents combined to cut her tuition down by 75%. Marinette quickly learned that scholarship students were at best ignored, and at worst mercilessly bullied. So Marinette kept her head down and vowed that she would get through the year unscathed.

There was one variable, however, that the Miraculous Luck wasn't able to account for. Marinette's entire plan fell apart thanks to one boy: Damian Wayne.

Marinette became acquainted with Damian Wayne through the school's rumor mill. She learned that he was one of the most wealthy and most attractive people in the school, but he was thought himself too good to spend time with any of his fellow classmates (Marinette couldn't fault him on the last bit; she also found the students at Gotham Academy to be difficult, to say the least). Marinette also learned through the school's rumor mill that Damian spent quite a lot of time staring at her. Given that Damian had never paid the slightest amount of attention to a Gotham Academy girl before, this was a big deal. Suddenly Marinette was the farthest thing from under the radar. Everyone who used to look down on her wanted to be her friend. It was exhausting.

Marinette resolved to ignore Damian Wayne - an easy task, given that she still didn't even know what he looked like. Now that everyone was staring at her, it was hard to

"Why?" grumbled Marinette. "Why couldn't my so-called Miraculous Luck help me get through one normal year of school?"

Tikki shrugged from her spot inside of Marinette's backpack. "Maybe all of this attention will turn out to be a good thing?"

"I doubt that." Marinette glanced around, checking that no one had spotted her talking to her backpack. There was one spot in the cafeteria that was hidden from view, a window-sill nestled behind a pillar, bordered by a wall on one side and an out of order vending machine on the other. Marinette sat on the window-sill every day to eat lunch, with Tikki as her companion for the meal.

"I think your problem is that you're overthinking this. Miraculous Luck always works out in the end, even if there are some obstacles in the middle."

"I just want this horrible school year to be over," sighed Marinette, setting her head down in her arms.

"Don't give up yet, Marinette. I have high hopes for this school year," said Tikki.

Marinette had some serious doubts but picked her head up anyway. Maybe this year wouldn't turn out the way she expected. Marinette defeated Hawkmoth, the greatest villain Paris ever faced. She could survive a year of high school.

-----

Marinette was going to survive her senior year of high school. Damian Wayne on the other hand... Marinette still wasn't sure if she was going to let him survive the year, after everything he put her through.

"Excuse me?" a sickeningly sweet voice piped up from behind Marinette.

Marinette put on her best disinterested-face, took out one headphone, and turned around. "Yes?"

There were three girls standing behind her: a blonde, flanked on both sides by a brunette and a red-head. The blonde girl had a smile on her face but a devious look in her eyes. Marinette had long ago learned to spot manipulators, and this girl had it written all over her. "Are you Marinette Dupain-Cheng?"

"Yes."

"My name is Julie Cooper. I was just wondering... Are you dating Damian Wayne?"

Marinette huffed in exasperation. "What do you think?"

Julie's eyes narrowed. "I just wanted to warn you. I mean, did you really think that Damian Wayne would seriously date a girl here on scholarship? You should break up with him before you get hurt."

"It was a rhetorical question. I'm not dating Damian Wayne. It's just a rumor."

Julie instantly perked up. "Oh, good! I was beginning to think that Damian had lost his mind. I mean, I'm sure you would be a nine or a ten at a public school, but at Gotham Academy, you're like a seven, maybe an eight on a good day. Most of the girls who go here are actually hot, not just," the girl waved her hand towards Marinette. "Above average."

Marinette wasn't sure if Julie meant for her to feel flattered or offended, but her words had the strange effect of making Marinette feel both all at once. "Um, thanks? I'm going to go now."

Julie's brunette friend suddenly paled as the girl started to tug on Julie's sleeve. "Um, Julie?" she whispered.

"What, Nora?" Julie's eyes widened as they fixed on something behind Marinette.

Marinette turned around to see what the cause of their concern was. Or rather, to see who the cause of their concern was. It was a boy, tall and scowling. "Are you done here, Cooper?"

Julia nodded, a nervous edge to her voice, "Bye, Marinette." She and her two friends hurried off, exchanging frantic whispers.

"What do you want?" asked Marinette with a sigh. She was tired of dealing with boys who were only interested in her because Damian Wayne was interested in her.

"I wished to apologize."

"For Julie? Did you put her up to this?"

The boy looked confused. "No, of course not. I meant that I wanted to apologize for everything, not just Julie Cooper."

"For everything?" The truth suddenly dawned on Marinette. "You're Damian Wayne! I didn't think that you would be so tall."

"You didn't know what I looked like?" There was real shock in his voice.

"Well, by the time I learned that you had been staring at me everyone was staring at me, so that wasn't much help in figuring out who you were."

"You could have googled me."

Marinette shrugged. "I could have, but it felt weird to google one of my classmates. I pretty much just resigned myself to never figuring out who you were."

"I should have approached you sooner. I've wanted to apologize for a while, but every time I've caught you alone you've looked like you wanted to be left that way."

"I'm not a fan of most of the students here."

"The students here can be..." Damian searched for the appropriate word. "Tiresome. I resigned myself to a dull four years of high school in their company. That is, until I saw you."

Marinette cocked her head. "Why me, though? I'm nothing special."

"You're different than everyone else here."

Marinette stiffened. "I know. I've been told. I'm here on a scholarship which means I don't belong," she snapped

Damian shook his head. "No, that's not what I meant. You move through life differently than all of the other students here. You don't care about the gossip or drama - at least, not until you were right at the center of it all. You've seen the real world, so you float above the high school drama. You're just so... so..."

"So what?" Marinette's tone softened.

Damian ran his hand through his hair, ruffling it. The addition of the messy hair added a certain charm to his otherwise polished exterior. "I've been brainstorming for the right word for weeks. The best I can come up with is pure. You don't let yourself become affected by anything in this school."

It was a very flattering description of her. It was also very on the nose. "I'll forgive you, Damian Wayne, but only on one condition."

"What?"

"I want to get to know you, and I have a feeling that you feel the same way."

Damian nodded. "It's a deal."

Maybe her Miraculous Luck wasn't so useless after all. Marinette had expected to go the whole year without making a single friend. Now, it seemed that she might make one after all.

@maribatmarch-2k21

#maribat #daminette #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Damian Wayne #MaribatMarch2021 #maridami #marinette x damian #miraculous ladybug fic #my work

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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** PT 2 Azriel x reader - enemies to acquaintances PT 2. ** - reader gets a backstory, they clear another enemy camp together and bond more. Azriel apologizes.

Slight TW for violence/domestic abuse mention. Trying to keep reader as genderless as possible but sometimes I inherently switch to using woman POVs- asks still very open ;)

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

"It seems I owe you an apology." Rhys began, pacing at the end of the makeshift bed the healers had set up for you. Your stomach rolled with nerves. His tone was not genuine, and you could feel the tension rolling off him in waves. The healers buzzing nearby suddenly found different things to do.

Azriel and Cassian stood at the edge of the canopy, the drizzle of rain making their armor shine. "Azriel informed me of your injury- I'm impressed with your bravery." He smiled, his dark eyes making him look like a snake.

You glanced to the shadowmaster, who nodded the slightest amount. "Did you receive my message from him?" You asked, and when he had a genuine wide grin - showing almost too many teeth - it gave you chills.

"I did in fact. I wish the same to you." He said with that deadly calm. Cassian tried to hide his laugh, Azriel remained stonefaced. "Let's take this to the war tent. Whenever you are...suitable." he glanced to your wing, still stained with crusted dry blood.

You felt your cheeks heat slightly, and nodded. He strode out from the healers canopy and into the rain without a look back. The generals followed him, Azriel glancing back to you only for a second.

Once you had mustered the strength to get out of the cot, you thanked your healers. They insisted on giving you healing potions before you departed. And tried to get you to promise to come back for a check in daily. Mobility tests, stretches and strength building. You gave them loose affirmations and took the potions without putting up too much of a fight, given that the wing still ached slightly. Two days of rest had done a lot for the healing process, but it would take at least a week before it was fully healed.

The short walk to the war tent was cold as the mist of rain poured down. Many of the soldiers were inside or drunkenly asleep in the mud. Sitting around and waiting was not an ideal situation with a thousand males ready to fight all around.

You pushed open the tent, shaking out your jacket on the pelt rug. Earning a scowl from the high lord, seated at the head of the table again. "This one tells me you were a sight to see in the skirmish." He said, gesturing to the shadow master.

You glanced to Azriel, his face was blank but his cheeks had gone a duskier shade of brown. "But maybe I took that the wrong way, and what he meant was that you were a disaster, considering someone managed to put a hole in to your wing." He laced his fingers together in front of him. You curled your lip at him, ready to tell him to get his ass out there and do it himself then.

Before you could, Azriel turned to the high lord, opening his mouth to protest but he was quickly silenced by Rhysand's dagger like eyes. The shadowmaster pressed his full lips together tightly. Looked to his feet, as if in shame. It made your head thrum with adrenaline filled rage. Rhysand - the most powerful high lord in history - coudlnt get off his ass to take care of some second class Attors himself? Perfect. Just your luck. Being hired out like the hundreds of your kind before you, only it was worse because you weren’t even getting any gold from it.

"We now have a bigger force than originally planned coming directly at us." He said softly, a dark wind organizing enemy pawns on the table to show where they spread out. how they had your forces stuck against a wall of mountains.

"Because you were brave enough to somehow miss the group of Attors flying away..." He glared those snake eyes at Azriel again, then Rhys let out a bitter laugh. He was upset, understandably so. You could admit that. But it wasn't your fault he decided not to believe you in the first place.

You glanced to Azriel. His face was grave as his high lord tore into both of you with a tone of a disappointed parent. Like your parent. The thought of your father made your jaw clench, your teeth grind together as you fought to not begin screaming at Rhysand.

"The two of you will see to it that this is taken care of." He took a breath, gesturing to the pawns on the table. "There is a ravine to the west of here-" His dark gifts had the pawns lifting in the air. A fist of fear clenched your stomach. You had forgotten just HOW powerful he was.

"If you cut off the bridges their advancement will be paralyzed. We then may be able to regroup and massacre our way through this group here-" He pointed to the north, a smaller force lay there. Without the flanking force able to be a threat behind you it would work. Your strategist mind flushed out the plan.

"I expect you both to fix this - as you both caused this issue. I want it done before dawn comes." The pawns he held in the air turned to dust on the table, making a neat pile before the dark lines that indicated the ravine. Hitting his point home, in a non subtle way you supposed. Arrogant cock of a high lord.

"It will work, Rhys." Cassian said softly. He glanced to Azriel. His eyes were pinned to your wing. Your stomach flipped, you glared at Rhys. Before you could call out his plans' faults - or how terribly he was treating you and your considerable 200 units in his army- you saw Cassian shaking his head slightly at you. He rested a hand on Rhys' shoulder. The gesture stood out. The cocky high lord had a sensitive side, perhaps. Your lip curled at the thought.

As if sensing your disgust with him, Rhysand's lip curled "Now get out." He said, voice low and gravely. Cassian gestured for you and Azriel to follow him out. Rhysand reminded you so much of your own father it made you want to spit. A territorial, abusive cock without enough dignity to spare your family name.

You took a deep breath of cold air, hoping to clear your mind. It did little to shake the tension in your shoulders, or the stiffness in your jaw. Making a mental checklist of the weapons you needed to bring, you noticed Azriel following you. Or seeming to.

The shadow singer stalked past your tent, going to the west where the bridges were. "What are you doing?" You asked, jogging to catch up with him. He was already fording through the tall shrubs and grasses by the time you caught up.

"Taking care of it. I can fix it myself." He growled. You tried to keep up with him, but the jostling was upsetting your injury.

You put a hand on his shoulder, "Wait, hey." He shrugged you off, scoffing to himself. "I should have gone alone in the first place. I dont understand why he had to send you." He muttered, stalking deeper into the forest. The rain didn't reach you here, under the darkening shadows and mist.

Rage erupted inside you at his words - and you called out the only thing you could think of that might stop him. If he wanted to fight he could damn well stop and have an actual fight with you. "I guess you are just like all the other Illyrians after all." Your blood rushed in your ears, seeming to dampen the sound of everything. The dull hiss of the rain hitting the trees above was barely audible.

He stood rigid, wings flaring over his shoulders, growing larger with the shadows writing around them. "Do you even have a clue what real Illyrians would do to you right now if you were talking to them like this? What a normal male would do?" He was close. Too close for comfort. Too close to not be fighting or fucking.

"Considering my father was a very real Illyrian, yes" He stuttered at that. You'd never seen him do such a thing. It would have been funny if that angry set of his features didnt come back. You were ready for more fighting, more yelling but his face went slack, and his eyes met yours finally. They were no longer the cold dark color like in the tent with Rhysand. They were a hazel that matches the warm colors of pine bark in summer. Your heart clenched at the sight of it.

"You're like the Peacemakers, then." He muttered, referencing the old tales of mighty warriors with mixed breeding. Unfortunately a lot of that breeding was not willing. It usually never was, and it had ruined two generations of Illyrian and Peregyn pairings. "Axios was always my favorite." He smiled at the memory. You bit your lip, remembering the true stories of each hero. Not the bastardized verisons peddled throughout the realm.

The offspring became ostracized and cast out of most communities. On Prythian and on the continent. The ones who survived long enough to become trainable though were given the name Peacemakers for a reason. Known for hired bloodletting, no questions asked.

"I hope your end is not met like theirs." He seemed to shudder at the thought. All the anger boiled out of you at his concern.

You felt the shame begin to creep up around you. You had sold your services to make ends meet at times. It always left you with a sickening feeling in your gut after. As if the Mother herself was disappointed. "You can help that not happen." You said softly, voice barely audible. If you weren't so deep into the forest you doubted even his shadows could have heard you. "I need.. I need to find my father." Your voice trembled, he approached you slowly. Like he was approaching a wild animal.

"It might seem-" He began coaxing, holding a hand out to you. Just like he had the other night. A question, a temptation.

"I know your pain, shadowsinger." You took his hand, letting him lead you to a fallen tree. The soft moss growing on it was a welcome seat after walking for so long following him into the woods. "He would beat my mother and would pluck her feathers." You were grateful for your mother every second she put into resisting his influence for you. For keeping him at bay until you grew enough to be sent to the Peregryn camps for training. She never revealed your cross breeding, only that you had your wings and could use them well. Only because she had taught you.

Azriel was quiet for a long moment, his shadows moving slowly like waves around your ankles together. "I'm - sorry.. .about your mother. I didn't know." He whispered, pausing and cursing to himself. "I can help you find him. We can look, but we need to get through those enemy lines first. I need you to help me do that." He grasped your hand lightly, as if asking.

"Lets slice some attor, I guess." You sniffed, the cold making your nose run. At least, you blamed it on that.

The camp was mostly asleep by the time you got there. Under the cover of nightfall you were able to silently end most of the Fae that lurked in the camp. With everything going so smoothly, your heart lurched at the sight of Azriel falling backwards, a calling horn in his hand. His siphons flared, and it shattered. But left his siphons dull. He winced as he rolled out of the winging range of a fellow Illyrian with a flail in one hand and a mace in the other.

"Traitorous bastard." Azriel grappled with the Illyrian commander, but they were evenly matched. They knew all the same moves, sparring and sword wise. You launched yourself through the scattered bodies lining the clearing, dodging over puddles of blood and forgotten weapons. The commander had Azriel in a hold that had his wings flipped outward, and the male took the opportunity. He pressed his boot against Az's back and pulled them backward, bending them father than was natural. You roared, not bothering to waste the time to draw your weapon.

You barreled into him, Azriels hands still reaching backwards to claw at his hands. He toppled over a stack of bodies, yanking you down with him. You scrambled away from him, hands clambering for any weapon. By the time you turned back around to face him, Azriel had already put him on his knees before you. Bending the males wings back just as he had done to the shadow singer.

Your borrowed blade went through his throat, pinning him to the ground as he kneeled. He looked like a statue in the position.

You spat on the body. "Dont touch wings, asshole." You muttered. Azriel stared at you, as if in shock. You picked up a better looking sword from the ground nearby, wiping it on the cloth inside of your armor sleeve. "What?" You asked. Azriel seemed stunned silent. He seemed shocked in place. After you were sure there were no rogues readying to flee or informants spying, You took a breath, returning to him where he still stood beside the body of the commander.

You pointed back at the winged body speared to the ground behind him. Smiling, you titled the pose. "A prayer to the mother." His eyes went somehow even wider.

Then he broke out in laughter. You couldnt help but join him, the high of battle making you both delirious. You laughed at his laugh, the stupid face he made laughing back at you. Laughed at the half spoken words that were cut off by more breathless giggles.

Your sides ached by the time you both sat around the enemy fire, enjoying their spoils of war from a nearby town. The roasted duck smelled particularly good. Azriel heated a pot of tea over the coals, throwing in fresh pine needles from a tree nearby.

"You know-" He handed you your cup of tea. It was warm in your palm, but his hands were still somehow hotter than the boiling water. He blew on his cup, the steam not going much farther than what his shadows allowed. They seemed to almost play in it. "I am sorry about your mother. I understand why you regard some of us with such...distaste." He put the lid back on the pot and took it off the fire. He looked so natural doing...normal things. Not just posturing for his court and killing.

You nodded in thanks, not needing too many words with him. "She fled the week after I was formally invited to train in the Peregryn ranks. He found her, and killed her for leaving him. My court holds no rules against such things. He hasn't suffered for it." Your voice shook at the end. "Yet, that is. This.." You gestured to the battlefield, the bodies behind you. "This is just along the way. Killing him will be my destiny. My retribution for my mother." You sipped your tea, letting the burn of it sink in. You hoped it would warm your insides.

"I miss my mother as well." He said, taking a gingerly sip of his tea. He stretched his wings, you could tell by the hesitant way he folded them back in that they pained him. You made a mental note to give him one of your healing potions when you returned to camp.

You sat in silence with him until that fire burned out, and only dull coals were left.

"I'm glad you both seemed to have fun. Is the camp clear?" Cassian hissed, following you to the war tent. You sipped your mead, nodding. "Yes, oh strategic one. The bridges are cut too, courtesy of yours truly." You winked at him, making him stop in his tracks. Azriel patted him on the shoulder without a word, then followed you into the tent where Rhys waited. Wrathful or not, you knew he had no rights to tell you off this time.

Azriel's hazel eyes met your own as you entered the tent together.

#azriel x reader #azriel #reader insert #acotar fic #acotar #cassian mention

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ask-sou-hiyori · 3 years

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Important Lore!

This post will contain very important details about this blog. It’s highly recommended that newcomers read this in order to understand aspects that will be mentioned throughout the blog!

It may be long since so much has happened and Mod Soup wants the audience to understand as much as they can, but also lore is very tasty so there’s that too.

Everything will be listed underneath the Keep Reading as to not clog up the current events, but will remain pinned and be updated when needed~!

(MAIN: @soupietime )

(Disclaimer: if you've seen and read before I was involved in the Takeover event and all that, please note that the previous Dad Midori stuff is NON-CANON to this blog, it makes me, the mod, quite uncomfortable. thank u and here's a snail 🐌 \^o^/)

(...Catboy Shin event was pretty funny though not gonna lie)

(Added fact: I HAVE NOT PLAYED 3-1B YET-)

(Added ADDED fact: I HAVE FINALLY FINISHED PLAYING 3-1B)

(Keys: MILL / More Information Listed Later)

BASIC INFORMATION

Name: Shin Tsukimi / Sou Hiyori (previously)

Age: 22

Height: 5’5”

Weight: 106 lbs

Sexuality: Bisexual (male leaning)

RELATIONSHIPS

Gin Ibushi (@askgin-ibushi) - Familial love. His only son, officially adopted before the beginning of the “#up the tower” (MILL) HE LOVES HIS EPIC SOOOOOOON.

Sara Chidouin (@ask-chidouin-sara) - Didn’t pay much mind at first due to lack of trust, but soon developed a protective nature towards the girl. Adoption material?

Sou Hiyori/Midori/Spark (@ask-sou-midori) - Unaware of his new name (Spark). He has heavily conflicting feelings due to the effects of “#event: blended” (MILL) but currently does not forgive him for his actions due to the amount of trauma caused to both him and his family. He’s afraid of this man, yet misses him greatly. Seeing him brings him immense pain, but also a strange comfort. He is unaware whenever he relapses with Hiyori.

Zinnia (@askgin-ibushi) - Strong security guard lady… kind and protective. Good for comfort and cuddling. Soft.

Leidora Margarati (@askgin-ibushi) - Resident Doctor. Helped Shin realize that Midori/Spark gave him severe brain damage with the “blending” and everything in his blended life was a lie. Shin is grateful for her in telling him the truth, but as a result Shin has many conflicting feelings about everything and himself, plenty of migraines and headaches to go along with it all. Leidora is the one helping Shin heal from the severe trauma caused.

Shin Tsukimi (literally me) - ……

(There are various other blogs out there, but Shin has not made much of a relationship with them yet. These blogs are who Shin has interacted with relatively a lot and thus formed relationships and thoughts about them)

CHARACTER CONNECTIONS

Every character from these blogs are from their own YTTD universe. Through the power of Tumblr and ask blogs, a rift was torn and brought these characters together.

Though… Gin and Midori/Spark have been known to be from the same universe.

Revealed during “#hospital arc”, Shin is from Gin and Midori’s universe as well. It’s been believed he perished due to an act to save Kanna in the second main game, and then killed after an escape attempt. However, that was proved false after a conversation between Shin and Spark, Shin showing him his abundance of gunshot scars from how he was “killed” in the second main game, Spark immediately recognized the scars, and thus… the reveal has been made. Gin is aware of this fact as well after Shin returned to the hospital, the two now closer than ever.

There had been a Sara in the three's universe. Gin had taken his own Sara with his sacrifice win, but she had eventually offed herself, leaving Gin as the only survivor before finding out that Shin survived as well.

Kanna is a sister to Shin. Shin is a brother to Kanna.

Gin and Shin are family :) Father and son

EVENTS

(NOTE: If you are going to read through the tags of the events, MAKE SURE to read through the notes of any interactions, as very important parts of the events are played out through interactions between the blogs. It’s not only through the asks of the audience. Plus it's easier than scrolling through to find every single interaction reblog)

#event: takeover (@askgin-ibushi)

The event that brought us together

Part 1 synopsis

Part 2 synopsis

You may read these synopses on the event in the links above, or you may read through the whole tag on Gin’s blog :D

#event: blended

(TW: mental manipulation and toxic relationships)

After the events of Takeover, Shin was found by Gin in… well, Gin’s room. Midori manipulated Shin before getting chased away and told Shin to stay in the room until he came back. Obviously, Midori did not come back. Shin only left the house after getting a few answers from Gin (who came up to his room shortly after Takeover) about what happened, and Gin falling asleep. Snzz.

Soon after, Shin gets a call from Midori again, and… surprise surprise… Midori manipulated Shin once again and got the man to follow him into a warehouse, putting a machine (that was similar to the one Midori put on Gin previously) onto Shin’s head despite the man’s loud and frantic protests, “blending” his brain and turning him into his own “perfect Shin”, which was a Shin that absolutely loved and adored the man, doing anything he would tell him.

Midori, using Shin’s totally real love and adoration to his advantage, sent him to Gin with the intent to lure and kidnap him. After all… Gin was part of Shin’s “family”, it would be wrong to just leave him alone… While Shin had a “family” mindset, Midori wanted to kidnap the kid solely due to the fact that Gin was the “winner” of their death game via sacrifice. Midori had the job of collecting the winner and making them join Asunaro. Shin and Midori’s plan succeeded, the two kidnapping both Gin and Hinako (she was there too with Gin. Asuga was also there but she was knocked tf out so yeah).

After kidnapping Gin, Midori had blended him as well, finally creating their “perfect little family”.

...All was going “well” until Gin decided to fight Midori to protect Hinako. That soon resulted in Gin getting stabbed by Midori, and Midori’s head getting bashed onto the ground. Due to the blunt force trauma, Midori developed something similar to a conscience, now realizing what wrong he’s done and a will to assist Shin after seeing him panic over a bleeding out Gin.

They eventually arrive to a hospital, Gin getting the treatment he deserves, Shin getting observed by Leidora and figuring out what Midori has done to Shin’s brain, Sara getting blended as well, but only to erase her memories, and Midori leaving after Shin confronted the man about what Leidora has told him. Midori finally leaves Shin’s life…

...Or does he?

#up the tower

(TW: suicide attempt)

Days after entering the hospital, Shin constantly has headaches and conflicting feelings about everything he’s ever known. He thinks about what was fabricated, and what’s real. At times, he even has trouble differentiating the two. Shin’s blending had made him basically addicted to Midori like a drug. With the lack of Midori around because of Leidora’s advice, Shin goes into a withdrawal over the man, and soon develops hallucinations over him. The hallucination is tame, but starts leading Shin out of the room, making him follow him all the way up to the roof, ignoring those who stand in his way.

In reality, the hallucination had only left the room, disappearing right after. It was Shin himself who had decided to make his way to the roof. Before he had left the room, Shin was on a call with Midori… Midori found out about the hallucinations and took that as Shin missing him dearly, his “error” fixing temporarily and the man driving over to come collect Shin. When Shin mentioned over the phone about walking “up the tower” to wait for Midori, then jumping off to land in his arms in a false fantasy, Midori’s error picked up again and panicked, now rushing to the hospital.

Once reaching the top, followed by Sara and Leidora, Shin stood over the edge, remaining there as the others spoke to him, trying to convince him not to jump. Shin revealed he's been having so many problems with himself: He's weak, he's awful, he's a horrible parent, he could've prevented all of this, and various other bad thoughts about himself, and then the constant pain he's felt since the blending, which has only gotten worse overtime, was the breaking point for him, he just couldn't handle it anymore. The pain was unbearable.

It had only calmed down once Gin made his way to the roof, bleeding due to opening his injuries up again while walking up to the roof after anons told him about the situation. The moment Shin took notice of Gin and heard his voice, he realized why he's still here. It would make him even more of an awful person to jump and leave him alone once again. Soon enough, Shin staggered off the edge of the roof and embraced Gin.

This arc ended with Shin, Gin, Sara, and Leidora going back into the hospital. Midori had been watching this entire time, the sight of Shin's suicide attempt making him leave once more, realizing it was his fault that the attempt even occurred.

#hospital arc

Several months had gone by since Gin, Sara, and Shin had entered the hospital. Gin's being cared for his injury while it scars up, Sara is there due to her blending, and Shin is mainly there on a close watch due to his suicide attempt, while also there healing from his blending.

Shin relapses, and escapes the hospital to go see Midori again, breaking his room's window and hopping out and landing on mattresses that an anon laid out during "#up the tower". The whole hospital is in a panic at his disappearance, especially since Shin was in the mental ward.

Shin goes to Midori's place, and all seems normal until Midori figures out Shin broke out to see him again. Midori wants to take him back, but Shin asks for Dunkin Donuts first, something to eat since the man hasn't been eating right since the hospital. They get their food, and thanks to an employee commenting about the two being "lovers", Midori quickly pays and drives away as fast as he could, ending up in the woods. The two lay down on the ground for a while and have a few talks. Only when some anons give Shin steps on how to run away, Midori brings Shin back into the car and starts driving back to the hospital.

...They don't get that far, as some teasing occurs and Midori's "error" fixes itself for a brief moment, and harasses Shin. Shin eventually kicks the man in the nuts which led to Midori threatening not to take Shin back. Shin, of course, freaks out.

Eventually the error returns, and only with a few words of encouragement from Shin does Midori start driving Shin back. Once they arrive, Midori gives Shin a piggyback ride since the man's body is in immense pain. Once they get close enough to the hospital, Shin gives Midori a goodbye hug and a thank you for being relatively good, and finally returns to the hospital.

Shin had reached the hospital, but his legs had quickly given out, causing him to fall face first onto the ground. A security guard, Zinnia, was the first to find him and carry him back into the hospital, where they were met with an upset Leidora, demanding that Shin speak about his whole breakout. Shin... couldn't speak, he was too tired and absolutely exhausted. After Zinnia managed to temporarily make the doctor leave, she brought him back to his new room (no windows this time) and let him rest.

Soon, Gin had peeked into the room, both him and Shin glad to see each other again. They had a comforting moment before Shin decided to talk to Gin about what happened during their game. Gin, still thinking he's the only survivor, asked Shin about his own game. Eventually, Shin revealed to the boy that he was not the only survivor after all. When Shin showed Gin his gunshot scars, Gin finally realized his dad was his own Shin all this time, and soon ran out of the room in a panic, in despair over the fact that he had "killed" Shin's Kanna, whom was a little sister to Shin, because of his sacrifice win, even though Shin nearly died in order to protect her. Shin's act to protect Kanna was futile.

Zinnia to the rescue! She caught the young boy in her arms, as well as Shin, who had been chasing after Gin. She brought the two back into Shin's room and told them to talk it out like normal people. And so.. they did. It ended well, and now the two are sleeping so soundly together in each others embrace like father and son. Zinnia sits with the two, watching over them to protect them. Snzz.

#event: shin ai

//ONGOING EVENT//

After returning Shin back to the hospital, Midori had a mini breakdown over the situation. In order to attempt to cope, he went back home and brought out something he found in his closet before… a monitor. After hours and hours of trying to fix it back up, it finally worked, and what appeared on the screen was an AI. An AI of Shin, in fact. At first it was incredibly awkward and highly uncomfortable for the AI, since all Midori did was stare at him. But after asking question after question, Midori finally spoke to the AI.

The two conversed and became friends! More "interaction points" were programmed into the AI, per AI's request, and all was chill until an anon started trying to tell the AI what Midori has done in the past. Shin AI knew the man had did bad things, he's lived through so much of that before he had shut down for a long time. But… Midori caught on and finally told the AI what he's done. The AI was mortified at the blending and kidnapping and the like, but had grown some sympathy towards the man. After all, the AI knew about Midori's "error", and how he wanted to change, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to.

The AI kept on reassuring Midori, supporting him the best he can from now on. To pull him away from being Sou Hiyori and allow more room for change, the AI even gave him a new name… Spark.

Spark intended for his gay thoughts to lessen after turning the AI back on but y'know. That only caused him more gay thoughts.

Not too long after… the AI received an email, glimpses of Sou Hiyori flashing every so often on the email, as well as text telling the AI that He'll see him soon. The AI is panicking… but what more could he do about it?

//To be updated soon//

APPEARANCES

Start of the blog

After "#event: blended"

Festival event :) (#event: festival)

"#hospital arc"

(I do not have a sprite made just yet, however, he's wearing an oversized hospital gown with small shorts underneath, as well as the scarf he always wears. There are some eyebags under his eyes, and his eyes themselves still has remnants of the swirls, caused by the blending)

"#event: shin ai"

(Disclaimer: All art/edits shown in this post belong to me)

#ask blog #shin tsukimi #masterpost #important #long post #yttd #sou hiyori #your turn to die #synopsis #...long synopsis #soup SPEAKS #to be continued #will update #soup art #edit #sprite edit

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shini--chan · 4 years

Note

Okay, I've been wracking my brain to think of an ask for you because I know your writing is fire, and I don't want to waste it! If the mood strikes you, can you write a little yandere Levi in a universe of your choosing or constructing? I'm sort of interested to see how you imagine him as a yandere 😊

Thx, fam!

As I told you once before, this is the ask that almost made me forfeit my principal of answering asks chronologically. :P

So, this will be my usual mix of headcanons and Imagines if you don’t mind, since I have a lot of thoughts on this man and just don’t want to stumble into the snare of writing a full length story … yet.

I’ ll also keep this general, since the universe any Levi fic is set in just changes the nuances, and not fundamental character traits.

Also, I have to remark that it is already too late for me - I’m hip deep in academia.

Yandere Levi Ackerman

Captain Levi is a very orderly person, it is part of his lifestyle and how he interacts with others and himself. It is something he is really strict about and he wouldn’t tolerate anything less than perfect hygiene in a lover. To him, there is nothing less disgusting than poor body hygiene and should you start slacking off in anyway when it comes to taking care of yourself, a very fundamental aspect, then he won’t shy away from taking matters in his own hands.

You gasped as a bucket of water was frigidly emptied over head and you threw yourself out as your bed, expecting your assailant to have lunged onto you, should you have remained there.

Instead, he was standing right in front of you.

Somewhat shyly, you looked up into Levi’s pale face and sneered at the accursed object that he was holding in his hand. He sneered right back at you, the corners of his lips curled slightly upwards in disgust. A rather uncommon display of extreme emotion on his part, for being a commonly stoic man.

“Get up!”, he curtly barked to which you stiffly groaned. Sloppily, you got up, still groggy from being rudely awoken and not in the best mood because of it. The water running in rivulets down your body and made your sleep wear cling to your skin didn’t help either.

“What was that for?”, you whined, completely oblivious as to why he was being so imperious to you. What had you done to warrant such poor treatment?

“Don’t get cheeky now, little brat. You didn’t shower last night and went all sweaty to bed. You deserved what I did to you now.”

Him being orderly isn’t restricted to personal cleanliness, it is also about how disciplined a person is with themselves. Having had to live in harsh environments for his whole life, he is a firm believer in pulling yourself up by your own bootstraps. That also means that should you suffer from any mental disorder, trauma induction or not, he wouldn’t be very understanding. Not that he wouldn’t be concerned about your broken state of mind, rather he wouldn’t see how being kind and coddling you would fix it.

“You know brat, if you would stop sulking and feeling sorry for yourself, your life would start getting damn better”, he snarled at your cowered form.

Hunched over the table, you had elected to grab a beer to numb the pain that was ravaging your heart. Watching people die never became easy, especially when they were close to you.

“Just leave me alone”, you begged and raised the tankard to your mouth again. Yet before the wooden rim could touch your lips, it was shamelessly ripped away from you. Levi’s sharp grey eyes were honed on you, the fire of anger dancing in them. Just why did he have to play judge now of all times?

“No, you look like shit and you’re talking shit. Moping around wouldn’t make anything better you idiot. You need to your act together, not get piss drunk.”

Furthermore, he needs to be in control. As soon as he feels like his vice-like grasp over reality is slipping, he does what all people do that are losing their power – he scrambles to re-attain it. And he doesn’t hesitate to utilize violence. On top of that he sees respect given, as power given, so he demands the piety that his position ought to give him. It doesn’t matter that you’re his lover, if anything you ought to give him his due. Rows with him are literally the worst – be prepared to be swept of your feet!

Roughly, you were slammed against the wall in a manner that knocked the wind out of your lungs with a crude sound. It was followed by a gasp as your ears rang from your skull having banged against the stone and your muscles and bones ached.

“What did you just say?”, Levi snarled, a rare look of utter rage on his handsome face. You knew it was a rhetorical question, he had heard you the first time around. But you were too steep in your own anger to not push your luck.

“Don’t be like that, darling”, you spat the last word as if it were poison in your mouth. Warranted actually, since you had been coerced and tricked into this relationship. “I said that maybe you should take a leave out of your superior’s book because all your shortcomings make you unbearable to be a runt. Somehow, I doubt that would work, though – you’ll always remain a sewer rat at heart.”

A wrong move – those handsome features contorted to something utterly ghastly.

“You know we wouldn’t have such problems if you could control that attitude of yours. And if you would show me respect”, he hissed as he pressed you further against the wall, so that you were sandwiched between stone and muscles to a painful degree. The hands grasping you by the front of your clothing didn’t help either.

Lips twisting into a snarl of your own, you countered: “Respect is supposed to be earned, Captain. I will only respect you if you respect me.” You were really insistent on digging yourself your own grave, weren’t you?

“You’re much prettier if you keep that mouth of yours shut.

“Consider the feeling to be mutual, brat. Why should I give you any respect if you won’t give me any? And remember, I’m above you, so I don’t owe you anything. You owe me the world.”

Levi also has a strict set of rules that he expects you to follow to the dot. A fair warning, however, he may change the one or the other spontaneously and not inform you of it until you’re bent over his desk. Also, it is common knowledge that he endorses corporal punishment and celebrates pain as a prim method to install discipline. He really thinks that bad behaviour can be beat out of somebody. He is also exceptionally cruel with his punishments. This can be traced back to how he was desensitized to violence at a relatively early age and revels in have people submit to him.

You had barely set foot in his study when he looked up from his paperwork and ordered you: “Come over here, and bend over the desk.”

Shocked by his harsh words, you nevertheless complied. You knew that resistance would only make matters worse. Still, as you bend over and pressed your cheek against the cool oak you asked: “What did I do wrong this time?”

Briefly, he stopped rummaging through the chest that stood by the window and glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you serious? Don’t you already know? And I though you weren’t so goddamn stupid”, he snapped.

Finally, having found what he was searching for, he turned towards you again. There was a semi-bored expression gracing his visage as he drawled: “I told you a thousand times before, pet. When you are finished with your afternoon chores you are to come directly to me. No chit-chat with somebody else, no fooling about and yet you disobey me again and again. Your ears really are just for decoration.”

You opened your mouth to protest but he carelessly cut you off: “I don’t care if they are your friends, you don’t need them. You just need me.”

Upon that you fell silent and closed your eyes in hopelessness as you waited for your punishment to commence. When do pain came after a minute of silence you dared to open your eyes and glance back.

Seeing that you were focused on him, Levi cleared his throat as if to say “Aren’t you forgetting something?” Then you remember and with a great amount of shame you bared your bottom and meekly requested: “Please Levi, my love, spank me thoroughly.”

As usual, it sickened you that he made you ask to be punished. It was his way of normalizing and justifying his abuse. And conditioning you.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his throat as he grabbed you by the nap as he pressed you against his desk. “There is a good little pet”, he whispered as leather made contact with your supple flesh.

This man has a difficult time warming up to people. All the agony of losing those that meant the world to him repeatedly has caused him to become cold and reserved. That means that in his mind, you should view it as a privilege that you are the love of his life. Because of that, he won’t accept rejection. Also, since he hasn’t had somebody really close to him in ages, he will be very clingy and overprotective. The world has the habit of robbing him, so you won’t allow you to be stolen as well. Not to forget that he is a man of action – being passive or also relying on words to solve situations just isn’t his style.

Your skin was on fire due to his ministrations, or rather because of the disgust they evoked. The arm around your waist that pressed you against him made you want to claw at his skin and his lips against the tender skin of your neck made you want to throttle him.

Yet you knew that it was just wishful thinking. Engaging in such protest would be futile since he was stronger and quicker than you.

“Look here Levi, I told you…”, you tried to reason with him but he just silenced your objection:

“Shush, sweetheart. Don’t ruin the moment.”

Then he resumed kissing your neck and collar bone, sometimes tugging at your skin with teeth in order to cause bruises. You tensed as his free hand snaked down your leg and hooked itself under your knee.

The captain is a military man and fairly intelligent. He knows how to deal with an enemy, how to assess their strengths and weaknesses and how to keep them contained. And also, how to best combat them and capture them. He really is the worst opponent you could meet on the battlefield.

So how to evade him? You take him off the battlefield, place him in a situation where aggression can’t help him achieve his goals. He is a military man, as said before, so he is accustomed to low context communication – words must be direct, and you must mean what you say so that they are no muck-ups. Little conversation and more orders and demands. Levi doesn’t have a silver tongue to begin with, quite the contrary actually.

That means he cares a bit for codes, since they are of use to him in his branch of expertise. But he cares little for symbolism since he has categorised that as sappy nonsense reserved for romantics. So, you have an avenue to express yourself that he won’t catch up on unless somebody explicitly told him what it meant. Consider yourself lucky, it is exactly this that will prevent you from going insane.

“Flowers? Again?”, he gruffly asked.

It made you look up from the novel you were reading to see him eyeing the tansy and peonies that you had placed in a vase on the nightstand.

You had to suppress a smirk and work to keep the self-satisfaction out of your voice as you meekly inquired: “They are there to give a bit more colour to the room. I can always put them away if you want.”

You were being obedient to him for a change and that was why he decided to allow you a few luxuries. Besides, since you were so affectionate in the past two months, why shouldn't he return it with gestures of his own.

“Keep them. I’ll just never understand why you like them so much”, he answered and then stalked over to the bathroom. Of course he would never comprehend it, with his spartan and austere tastes, just like you would never understand that the small yellow flowers meant ‘I declare war on you!’ or that the orange lilies that had been there a few days ago actually proclaimed your hatred for him.

Hopefully, he would never find out.

Intelligence doesn’t automatically mean that he is omnipotent or that he is an all-powerful overlord. It just means that he is quick to comprehend tactics and strategies and devise his own. He isn’t immune to mistakes. So, when he ropes you in, in his games, you have to play a wholly different game of your own if you want to get out. Military, remember? There are many walks of life that he is unfamiliar with, many possibilities for you to escape his clutches that he wouldn’t even account for.

Giddily, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You barely recognized yourself, with all the paint and heavy cloth that decorated your body. Levi didn’t either, just how it was supposed to be.

You had spotted him in the audience as you had pranced about the stage, looking very disgruntled at not having you by his side or locked up in his quarters. Even you had heard the rumours of how a few days ago he had flown into a frenzy, searching high and low for something.

You were one of the few that knew it was someone and that someone was you. Knowing him as well as you did, you made the fair guess that he also wasn’t here by his own volition, rather his comrades had dragged him here in an attempt to distract him.

And you also knew that had looked everywhere he presumed you to be – in the forest, somewhere tucked away in his estate, in the taverns and at the city borders and at the docks. Just not amongst the theatre troop.

That would probably stay that way, and you could use the opportunity to escape him.

Adding to the fact that he is bad at expressing himself like a normal human being, he is also very emotional underneath that stoic veneer. In combat situations, he has an outlet for all his pent-up emotions. Else you have to suffer his outbursts and mood swings. Nonetheless, the world isn’t a gigantic battlefield and if the right buttons are pushed, he could lose it at exactly the wrong time and place. Levi would lose badly at the game favoured in the royal courts of provoking-the-other-until-they-embarrass-themselves.

Levi was very close to unleashing his unholy rage and as a precaution, you had taken to stepping out of range. While you found the whole situation very amusing, you didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire.

“…however, since you come short on some things, I don’t expect you to understand that. Should I repeat what I said, in bitesize chunks so that you don’t lag behind this time”, the nobleman prattled while he looked down on your “lover”.

Said man pressed through gritted teeth: “You filthy swine, go stuff all your pretty words up your ass.”

The noble emitted a fake gasp and murmured aghast: “You really are so crass. The rumours of you being a dwarf barbarian are true.”

That was the last straw for Levi. In the following minutes, a small crowd gathered to see what the commotion was all about and it ended in the guards having to restrain him. Really, it was hypocritical of the Ackerman to threaten you about causing a scene when he was the one prone to temper tantrums.

#yandere levi #yandere attack on titan #yandere aot #yandere snk #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere levi x reader #my writing #yandere levi ackerman

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raven-moon33 · 3 years

Text

Agh, sorry this is so late! I was planning on posting at least two more stories for #jttwfestival2020, so naturally my computer decided to break down the last few weeks of December. ;;

So, here is my exceedingly late contribution for Day #6: Make Your Own Bizarre AU! I will be cross-posting this on my AO3 profile, RavenMoon33, so feel free to check it out there as well.

This is a superhero AU (because I’m just a sucker for those tbh), so for some basic information:

Guanyin is a director/supervisor (think Nick Fury but better) working for the Lotus Syndicate (superhero agency) who goes under the codename Bodhisattva, Sanzang is one of her tech guys (think Q) whose codename is Monk, while the rest of the pilgrims are miscellaneous superheroes put together to be one of the Lotus Syndicates best superhero teams.

I’m already building up a bigger story and world for this (because I can’t seem to help myself apparently) and I do plan on continuing it with at least a few more parts/chapters. I’m not sure yet if I’ll be posting subsequent parts on Tumblr or if I’ll just keep them all on AO3 in a single story/series (purely out of laziness lmao) so keep an eye out for updates there if you like it.

Alright, ramble over. Please enjoy and let me know what you guys think!

“Monk, thank you for coming on such short notice. Please, take a seat.” Sanzang took a deep breath to hide his nerves and did as Guanyin bid him, sinking into the comfortable cushioned chair opposite her desk as well as he could with prickles of anxiety keeping his body tense and alert. He kept his briefcase clutched tightly to his chest as if it could be a barrier between them.

“There’s no need to be so anxious,” she laughed, “I promise I didn’t call you here for anything bad.” He gave a pointed look to the tea set and trays of cookies and sweets positioned strategically on the desk, an obvious bribe if ever he saw one.

“Bodhisattva, the last time you called me in here like this you assigned me to the Five Finger Mountain case.”

“Which turned out well, didn’t it?” She replied, sipping serenely at her tea. He blinked at her, flabbergasted, for a moment.

“I nearly died at least three times, nearly got fired, and spent a full month surviving in the woods on my own!” He stood up angrily when she just continued to stir her tea, pointing an accusing finger at her. “I’m just a tech guy, I wasn’t even supposed to be out on the field! What part of that is good?”

“The part where you rooted out dozens of spies in our network, exposed one of our highest-ranking members for corruption, and got half a dozen of our operatives out of enemy territory after they’d been held prisoner for years, all from your computer in the middle of a run-down shack in the woods?”

He opened his mouth to protest, he had just been doing his job after all, but she cut him off before he could even start.

“Or perhaps before that, when you helped save countless civilian lives by actively going out to the mountain site yourself and manually disabling the satellite gun before it could wipe out a quarter of the population, because no one else would listen to you and I was busy being framed for everything going wrong?” He sheepishly sunk down into his seat at her firm look, fighting the urge to hide his very red face in his hands.

He couldn’t exactly brush the whole thing off as nothing with her sitting right there in front of him, knowing more about what exactly those two months had been like for him than anyone else did. She didn’t seem angry at least, the same as she had when he refused a promotion and the rewarded recognition the higher-ups offered him after it was all said and done.

(He didn’t want the glory of being the person who wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough to save the seventeen people who died between the time he figured out what was really going on and the time he finally gave up on The Lotus Syndicate getting anything done and going rogue. Three days, seventeen people- he should’ve been better. He didn’t want the operatives who made it out of there trying to thank him when they’d been stuck in a dark basement for months, some years, while he’d been off doing who knows what. He should’ve been better. He didn’t want the glory).

But she at least understood, later, when he explained it to her, so she wasn’t angry anymore. He still couldn’t bear to meet her eyes though. Eventually, she took pity on him, handing him a steaming cup of tea. An olive branch.

A few moments of silence passed.

“I was just doing my job.” He muttered at last, sullenly stirring sugar into his tea, accepting the silent apology for what it was. Neither of them liked to think too deeply about that time. She smiled gently at him, the warmth of it easing the tension out of his muscles. The tense air around them cleared.

“And you performed admirably. You are one of the best tech operatives in the business after all, if not the best.” He shook his head slightly, but didn’t try to protest. Questionable heroics aside, he was good at what he did, and they both knew it. “Which is why I’ve called you in here today. I have a new assignment for you.”

He perked up when she placed a folder on the desk between them, eager to leave the shadowy confines of the past behind. Besides, he’d been stuck on filing duty for the past month thanks to Guanyin’s momentary absence and his temporary supervisor hating his guts for whatever reason, and he was bored.

“What is it?” He asked, even as he reached forward and plucked the folder off the desk.

“Have you heard of the Nomads?” He snorted and gave her a disbelieving look.

“No,” he drawled sarcastically, “I can’t say I’ve heard of our most powerful superhero team, the ones who have racked up almost half a trillion dollars in damages in the last year alone and who have single handedly caused the PR department to go on strike no less than three times in the last two years.” Her mouth twisted into a wry yet fond smile.

“They are a handful, but their results more than make up for their more… unique methods.”

“Reckless methods, more like it.” He muttered, starting to flip through the file when she only nodded serenely at him. “What about them?”

“I want you to be their new tech.” He nearly choked on his tea.

“You want me to what?!”

“Be their new tech.” She repeated firmly, setting down her teacup and fixing him with the no-nonsense look he knew better than to ignore. “They’ve become one of our most powerful assets in only two years, but any team without a good tech is basically flying blind. They’ve been doing good out on the field, but they’re not as new as they used to be. The enemy will start to figure out their weaknesses soon, and without a good operative they can trust to lead them well when they’re in dangerous situations, they have a pretty glaring one.”

“You’re not telling me they’ve been operating for two years without a tech?!” He asked incredulously.

“Of course not! I make sure they have a tech for every mission, but,” here she sighed and rubbed at her temple, and she must’ve been exceedingly stressed out if she was actually showing physical signs of it, “they’ve also managed to drive away every tech I’ve assigned to them within a month or flat out refuse to work with the ones who don’t run. They need a good operative, someone competent who won’t run away when the going gets tough, until I can find a more permanent replacement. The pickings are slim, and I want to avoid having to start poaching techs from other departments if I can help it.”

She looked at him then, her eyes beseeching him in the way they only did when she was asking for a favor as a friend, and not as his boss.

“You’re the best pick for the job, because you know what you’re doing and I know I can count on you to do it well.” He could feel himself wavering now, and he could tell she knew it too. “Please Sanzang, you’re the only person I can trust with this right now.” He sighed and slumped back in his chair, defeated.

“How long do you want me on this then?”

“Seventeen months.”

“Seventeen-?!”

“Just until my assistant, Novice, gets back from his mission with the Jade Apprentices,” she interrupted, a hand raised in a plea for civility, “then you can have any position or assignment you want as thanks for taking this one on.”

He paused, considering.

“Even at Thunderclap? You know I don’t like working on the field.” And a position at Thunderclap would practically guarantee he’d never have to go on the field again.

“Yes,” she nodded after a significant pause, though she didn’t seem particularly happy about it, “even at Thunderclap. You’ve more than earned it, if that’s what you truly want.” He sighed in relief and nodded.

“Alright then. Seventeen months.”

“Seventeen months.” She agreed. “You can have the rest of today off, but you’ll be flying out to their main base in Beijing tomorrow morning. I’ll send you the relevant details tonight, but until then try to get some rest. You’ll need it.”

Sanzang did not rest. Once he got home (or rather, the hotel room he’d been living out of for the past few weeks- staying in the same place for too long made him nervous nowadays) he hunkered down in front of his computer monitors and spent the night doing research on the group he’d be spending the next year and a half babysitting.

The Nomads were made up of four members, each more powerful and dangerous than the next.

Freefall, Red Sand, Nine-Toothed Boar, and last but certainly not least, their leader Great Sage.

With the notable exception of Great Sage, each member of the group had been employed by the Lotus Syndicate for at least a few years before falling out of grace in one way or another, whether through an excessive amount of public damage getting them demoted to less than stellar positions in the Syndicate (Freefall and Red Sand) or the sheer amount of HR complaints getting them flat-out fired (Nine-Toothed Boar).

The three of them were only reinstated as high-ranking superheroes after the Five Finger Mountain incident revealed a distressing amount of Lotus’ heroes to be corrupt, severely depleting the Syndicate’s fighting force and requiring many previously fired or demoted heroes to be reinstated (even if only temporarily).

The three were put on a team with one of the Syndicate’s newest and most powerful superheroes (Great Sage, who as far as Sanzang could tell seemed to have popped up out of nowhere) both as a PR stunt (public damage and HR complaints or not, the three were still public favorites and no one was more popular in the public eye than the Great Sage himself) and as a way to keep a close eye on all of them, just in case.

Regardless of their rocky relationship with the Lotus Syndicate however, no one could deny they did amazing work.

It seemed every week there was a new story popping up in headlines about their latest accomplishment in making the world a safer place; stopping bank robberies, rescuing hostages, uncovering shady gang operations, saving the entire world from some type of otherworldly threat, fetching cats stuck in trees- you name it, they’ve done it at least twice in the past six months alone.

Sanzang couldn’t deny they did a lot of good, helped a lot of people, but even just looking at the reports on the damages left over from their altercations with criminals made a headache start throbbing behind his eyes. And he wasn’t even technically responsible for them yet!

He sighed and started compiling folders on all four of them; their powers, their personalities, their greatest successes, their worst failures, every scrap of a clue to each one’s backstory.

Forewarned is forearmed after all, and dammit, Sanzang was nothing if not prepared.

(Sanzang would soon come to learn that when it came to dealing with the Nomads, there was, in fact, no way to be prepared.)

#jttwfestival2020 #jttw #journey to the west #sun wukong #Tang Sanzang #Bodhisattva Guanyin #My writing #yes I had way too much fun coming up with all the names #even though it should've taken me like #five minutes max #but we're going to ignore that because #SECRET IDENTITIES AND MISUNDERSTANDINGS ARE MY BREAD AND BUTTER #bring all the wacky hijinks and hilarious miscommunication #it shall be amazingly cringe don't worry guys

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readingwritingcrying · 5 years

Note

Can you do a piece where Crowley is accidentally burned by the holy water Aziraphale gave him, and while it isn't enough to kill him he's hurt real bad and Aziraphale feels super guilty? I love your blog!

Thank you so much for the kind words and this prompt!! A bit canon divergence, because it has to be, but I tried to keep it about how things might have been. I hope you enjoy!

When Crowley first took the tartan thermos from Aziraphale, he held it gently, as if grasping it any tighter or bringing it any closer to him would reduce him to a sizzling puddle of black goop, right there in his Bentley.

This, of course, wouldn’t be the case, but he still handled it with extreme caution. It was only natural that he wanted the holy water as far away from him as he could manage – it reeked holiness, and Crowley could practically feel the power humming under his fingertips.

And then there was the sentence that might stick in his head for the rest of eternity: “You go to fast for me, Crowley”.

He tried not to think of it on the drive back to his flat, listening to The Black Angel’s Death, as if he were driving off into his next misdeed. He sped through London at a miraculous pace (he didn’t notice the traffic, so in turn, the traffic decided to not notice him back) and couldn’t pinpoint when Freddie’s voice started to take over, but it didn’t matter since he was back well before it changed fully.

With too much nervous energy to be contained in an elevator, Crowley ops to use the stairs instead, quickly making his way to the flat. The stairs didn’t dare make him walk up the full length of them, of course, so in no time he was slamming his door with a little less force than anger would require.

Because he wasn’t angry. As much as he wanted to be angry at Aziraphale, he couldn’t be. Instead, Crowley just let the angel’s voice play on repeat. His chest ached the kind of way that only happened when you had begun to hope, only for that hope to be snatched right away again. He was more than a little empty, and definitely more sad than he’d ever choose to admit.

Crowley set the thermos down on a side table rather carelessly (still with some caution, he was upset, not stupid) and slouched himself down on his couch. What had he even been hoping for? For the angel to see him as anything more than an enemy? For him to agree, to spend the night together, to keep spending their nights together?

To be something to each other?

Demons didn’t get things like that. They got aggressions, sins, and positively dreadful amounts of paperwork. He was lucky for all the civility - the kindness - Aziraphale had shown him. He should be grateful.

Then again, he was a demon. Maybe it was a little bit his right to be selfish.

Crowley decided he should do what he did best when faced with a situation he didn’t like: take a nap. Preferably a long one.

He changed into his black silky nightclothes and moved to his bed.

He closed his eyes.

He let each muscle relax.

He slowed his breathing.

….he tried counting, thinking of something boring. He shifted. He adjusted his pillows.

He couldn’t sleep.

Crowley didn’t say that lightly. He had indeed tried just about everything one would normally do, as well as several other things one would normally never try and do, to help ease him into sleep (humans couldn’t sleep on ceilings, perhaps, but when Crowley wanted to he could sleep just about wherever he pleased). But after a week, he finally had to admit defeat.

If he couldn’t fall asleep, then alcohol had to be the only next step. Because he was tired of thinking, of feeling things involving one certain angel that he shouldn’t even be able to.

Pouring himself a glass of wine, Crowley stalked through his flat. The wine quickly turned into something darker and much stronger, and before long, he was properly shitfaced.

It is in these moments, very bad ideas seem to become very enticing, and in fact, seem like Very Good Ideas instead. This is as true in the occult (or ethereal) as in humans. That might be why it shouldn’t be surprising that Crowley picked up his phone and dialed Aziraphale (who’s voicemail existed but had never properly been set up like his own).

“Zzziraphale!” He slurred into the phone. “Jus’ wanted to call you. Um. No, wanted to talk to you too! ‘Else it wouldn’t matter if you didn’t pick up.” Crowley paused, going silent for just a bit too long for a recording, but he had to at least make an attempt at gathering his thoughts.

“Guess you don’t want to, then. Didn’t think it’d be too much after some thousand y- well, doesn’t matter. Call me, angel.” This would have been a respectable way to end a phone call - or at least as respectable as you could be when drunk dialing your more-than-enemy angel. Ending it with a broken, hissing please would be much less so.

Aziraphale did not call back.

Crowley called again. And then maybe a few more times. Each anxiously fiddling with the cable connecting his phone. Sometimes he would pace back and forth, other times he was sitting sprawled out on chair - or throne, really.

If you asked Crowley what he had said during these one-sided calls, he probably wouldn’t be able to remember well enough to tell you. Certainly, nothing he would say to Aziraphale in his right mind. For a week, he would call a few times, then sulk, then try again.

The last time he called, he slammed down his phone mid-sentence. Clearly, this wasn’t working. Aziraphale was still ignoring him in a way he hadn’t since much closer to the Beginning.

The phone made a satisfying crunch as it cracked on the table. This was when Crowley decided that he would sober up, at least for the most bit, since really getting drunk just made him more emotional cooped up in his flat alone.

Breaking things felt much better. He stalked to his garden, quickly spotting a plant with slightly drooping leaves. “You,” he growled. Crowley picked up the quivering thing by the stem, and smashed the pot down, shattering it there and then. The shattered edges of the terracotta sliced at his palms, making him hiss.

Stupid angel. Couldn’t he see how slowly Crowley was moving already? Why would he dangle something like that right in front of him, only to pull away again? And why did it have to feel like Crowley’s heart was breaking when it never should have been the Angel’s in the first place?

He was a blur of destruction in his flat. Pots that were not made of stone or concrete were helpless to his wrath. Anything that could be ripped was torn without mercy. Anything that could be toppled over was pushed to the ground, letting Crowley revel in the crash.

It was rather unfortunate when he tipped over a certain end table in front of him. Not because he liked the thing particularly.

No, it just happened to have a tartan thermos set on it by a rather careless, emotional demon.

It hit the floor, hard. The lid cracked.

Before Crowley could do anything but draw a sharp breath in, he was hit by a splash of water.

He let out an inhuman scream, flesh burning painfully, skin from patches on his arms and his collarbones dripping off as little more than black goo.

A quick demonic miracle was all Crowley could manage, putting the thermos the right way up to stop any more from spilling out.

Just the effort from that task alone made Crowley’s vision turn spotty. He fell back onto the floor, panting and whimpering. His heart (although not necessary, but some humans had freaked out when they didn’t feel a heartbeat while he was in the middle of a nap once) was racing, pumping adrenaline through his body.

It hurt. Christ, it hurt. For a moment he thought it might actually be the end, as he clutched himself, screaming. How could it happen like this? A simple accident, something so careless. Being immortal, he never faced the concept of an end. It was there, in theory, but it didn’t feel as real as it was in those few seconds when he just didn’t know.

The sharp burning pain slowly turning into a dull throb, and Crowley realized he wasn’t going to die. His pained shouts quieted into ragged breathing with the occasional whimper or groan.

His right arm and chest were badly burned, it hurt too much to even sit up properly. Crowly tried to shift his position, but it sent new waves of pain and nausea through him and left him gasping for breath that he really didn’t need.

All in all; there was hardly any way this situation could get worse. So, naturally, it did just that.

A hesitant knock rang in his ears as someone thought now was an appropriate time to stand outside his flat. It really wasn’t. Every muscle tense, Crowley brought his (left) hand up to his mouth, biting down on his finger to stop any wayward noises of pain.

The moment of silence hung delicately, balancing on an air of tension, much like how one would balance a pencil on their finger.

Then, “Crowley? I… I know you’re there.” Oh fuck.

Did Aziraphale really need to show up without any warning? Desperately Crowley tried to gather the strength to fix his apartment at least, but the effort just caused a pained groan to slip from his mouth, muffled as it may be.

“That’s it, Crowley, I’m coming in,” The angel said, determination strong in his voice.

“No-” Crowley protests, but it was too late. The door opened for Aziraphale, and Crowley shut his eyes to at least save himself from the initial expression. His right arm was curled over his chest and with any luck, maybe he just wouldn’t notice.

The angel made a noise that choked in his throat. “What happened here, my dear?”

Bless the stupid angel and his stupid pet names. How could he just say something like that after saying that before, after ignoring him for months? Crowley wanted to hate the way Aziraphale spoke to him, that way.

Mostly, Crowley just hated the way it made him soften.

“Nothing. Me,” Crowley manages to get out. “Can we reschedule, Angel?” Crowley gestured with his unharmed hand, “Little busy.”

“With what?” Aziraphale’s eyebrows made a good escape attempt, disbelieving as ever when Crowley got around to looking at him.

“Redecorating,” He growls back.

Aziraphale’s face wrinkles and he kneels down to look into Crowley’s eyes. “I did listen to your messages, you know.” Crowley flinches, letting out a hiss that had much less to do with what the angel had said and much more to do with how moving tore at his raw skin, the fabric scraping painfully at the wound.

Crowley wasn’t sure how long he could keep any sense of composure at this point. He didn’t respond, and apparently, that was enough for Aziraphale to continue.

“Dear boy, you had me quite worried.” Aziraphale looked away. “I couldn’t come sooner, not while heaven was keeping such a close eye on me. Gabriel paid a visit, but well, that wasn’t it,” Aziraphale grabbed Crowley's right arm, and it was all he could do to keep from crying out in pain. He grits his teeth.

“You must know, Crowley… It’s not that I don’t, well, care for you,” he admitted. “I’m just…” Aziraphale paused, and Crowley realized his mistake.

Through clenched teeth, a whimper of pain has slipped out. IT’s a pitiful and desperate sound and one that has Aziraphale scanning Crowley immediately. “You’re hurt,” he says.

Crowley meets his gaze with his own demonic yellow eyes. He was breathing raggedly, each breath hurting just a bit more than the last.If it wasn’t such a dead giveaway, Crowley would stop the function altogether.

“Not ssseriously.” Crowley denied. Well, that was a blatant lie.

Aziraphale shook his head. “Crowley, tell me.”

“No!” Crowley snaps, panting. “Jusst leave, we’ll ressschedule this heart to heart later.” He wills his voice to be sharp and cruel, but it’s just tired and stressed. The drawn-out “s”s annoy him as soon as they were out of his lips, but like many a moment in his existence, he doesn’t have the control to stop it.

Crowley almost regrets smashing his sunglasses. A bit of protection from this plain vulnerability would be more than helpful.

As the angel starts to ask again, Crowley looks pointedly anywhere other than at Aziraphale. He won’t tell the angel - after all, he’s still here, and he didn’t need him taking away his one protection from hell over a little bit of misplaced guilt for the demon,

Hell wasn’t the type for sternly written letters, after all. And if they got word of the Arrangement? No, Crowley would just keep quiet about the whole situation until Aziraphale grew frustrated and left him for the night.

“...I apologize in advance for this,” Aziraphale said, and then did something Crowley had not at all planned on; he pulled Crowley’s arm from his chest.

Crowley cried out, trying to squirm away from the firm grip. Aziraphale dropped his arm as if he had been burned instead.

“No,” his voice broke. “Oh, no, what have you done to yourself?”

Crowley regained his voice slowly. “Angel. Angel, it was just a mistake, I would never-” he broke off. He realized how deeply he must have been afraid of Crowley using it on himself on purpose if the look of utter guilt on Aziraphale’s face was anything to go by. He cursed himself for not realizing that sooner. “I was just… Thought you weren’t going to come ‘round this time,” he admits. “Got upset. Broke things.”

Aziraphale took another look around him, studying the surroundings with a deep sadness. His eyes fall on the cracked thermos, sitting just a few feet away from the two of them.

Without speaking, he walks carefully over to it. Aziraphale picks up the thermos gently in his hands, and miraculously, it is free of any cracks. Carefully, he walks to a cupboard, opening it (and ignoring how the door hung off its hinges due to the state Crowley was previously in) and placed the tartan object high on a shelf.

“You can’t be so careless,” Aziraphale reprimands, returning to him. There is no real sternness in his voice, however. “Let me help, dear.”

Crowley nods. Aziraphale gently unbuttons his shirt, pulling it off of his injured chest and arms. Crowley chokes on the pain of the feeling, but doesn’t cry out - he hated the look enough on the angel’s face when he knew Crolwy was in pain.

A rather inappropriate part of his brain tells him that he would really rather the first time Aziraphale took off his shirt was in a much more pleasant, sinful context.

Aziraphale studies the would carefully. A good spot of his flesh has been burned away under his collarbone, but not quite to the bone. Similarly, there is a strip of his forearm burnt where the water had dripped. Aziraphale tuts, face still scrunched with worry and sets about tending to his wounds.

There wasn’t much that could be done about them, in the way of miracles. Regular injuries were one thing, but one of divine origins just couldn’t be dealt with so easily. Doing the human thing was the best Aziraphale could do for him, and so that’s what he did.

When the cool cream hit his skin, Crowley wasn’t sure if the stinging pain or relief would win out. He gasped, trying to adjust to the pain, and Aziraphale paused to let him. “Keep going,” Crowley grit out. “Best jussst to get it over with,” he reasons.

Aziraphale nods in agreement. “I’d just rather not see you in pain at all.” Still, he continues as quickly as possible while still keeping a tender touch.

Next, Aziraphale wrapped the burns in bandages. The arm was the easiest, and although Crowley made rather painful noises at the sensation, once it was done, he did have to admit it felt better than before.

Not much, but he’d take anything he could get.

The chest was the hard part. “You’re going to have to sit up, I’m afraid,” Aziraphale instructs. Crowley tries but is knocked back by the pain. He’s caught by soft hands, and Aziraphale is propping him up.

If he weren’t in so much pain, Crowley might appreciate just how close they were in that moment. Certainly, this was much more contact than they had ever had before.

“Tell me why you got yourself into such a state,” asks Aziraphale as he works. It’s said in a rushed way, the kind when you’ve been replaying a sentence over and over in your head, trying desperately to find the courage to say it out loud.

Crowley blinks. “You know,” he accuses.

Aziraphale sighs. “Perhaps. Best to say it anyway,” he insists.

Crowley considers this. For one, he’s a demon, and by nature, he doesn’t trust easily. Especially with things that could hurt him. Putting that aside, there was only so much Crowley could even admit to. Not without scaring Aziraphale off. Not without admitting something he couldn’t come to grips with himself.

But Crowley wasn’t very good at refusing anything to his angel.

“Youi.. you say these things, angel. That make me think just maybe you’d want… well, it doesn\t matter, but I just… got my hopes up, ‘suppose. Er. Thought you might, um, get scared away for good. Messed everything up.” He wasn’t sure if the words made sense, if they were in the right order, or if it was too much, too quickly.

Aziraphale finishes his bandages but doesn’t let go of Crowley. For a moment that seems to drag on into something like forever, they sit together in hesitant silence. “You know,” he says so quietly that Crowley can hardly make it out, “It might not be the Ritz, but there’s a sushi place I’m rather fond of. It would be a rather odd coincidence if, say, next week you’ve healed some and we manage to eat there at the same time.”

Crowley’s heart stutters. He nods, words stuttering, his brain not quite able to shape sounds into an actual sentence. Aziraphale seems to understand this anyways.

“For now, though, you should really sleep. Your body will need rest to heal this.”

“‘Course,” Crowley manages. With his agreement, Aziraphale helps him up, letting Crowley lean on him as they make their way to Crowley’s bed.

He blinks, and suddenly he is fully-clothed, albeit in pajamas. They were black, but soft cotton as opposed to his usual silk ones. They almost smelled like the angel.

Once he had been helped into bed (and once he had reluctantly released Aziraphale, maybe holding on just a second too long) Aziraphale stood, walking towards the door.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley called. The angel stopped in his tracks. Stay, he wanted to say. But he knew it was too much to ask. “Thank you,” he says instead.

Aziraphale’s shoulders relax, and although Crowley couldn’t see his face, he is certain the man must have smiled.

Exhausted, Crowley slipped easily into sleep,

Although the angel was gone the next day, Crowley could not possibly miss how everything was miraculously whole again, as if he had never broken a thing.

Not quite in their right place, but Crowley had to count the gesture as a win, coming from the angel.

#good omens #Ineffable Husbands #anthony j crowley #Crowley whump #hurt crowley #Aziraphale #good omens fanfiction #good omens whump #whump #otp: ineffable #ineffable husband fic #whump prompts

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somerpmemes · 4 years

Text

Carmilla S2 Starters

Change as needed

“PG 13. How incredibly dull.”

“I guess I should just be happy you haven’t found a brand new crusade to be on.”

“She looks like an extra from Carrie.”

“It’s all fun and games until a primordial monster gets loose and devours us all.”

“The very least you could do is start pretending like you survived puberty.”

“Huh. So evil has PETA protesters.”

“I really wish you’d cut out the mythologizing.”

“I see we’re low on brave-but-stupid for the week.”

“This isn’t something we have to talk about.”

“And when did you become the voice of reason?”

“A certain amount of murder just comes with the territory.”

“That’s…. actually more plausible than I was expecting.”

“Now, wasn’t that an improvement to your usual hysterical nonsense?”

“What in the name of Skrillex is that?”

“Do you think we’re having a conversation?”

“And that was as close to a plan as we got.”

“It’s not a lot but it’s our best lead.”

“But you like death threats and screams.”

“Maybe it’s time to sort through some of those self-destructive patterns.”

“I had really forgotten how much fun this kind of thing isn’t.”

“How can you be so blase about that?”

“Don’t you want justice for that?”

“So, that’s suspicious.”

“Love doesn’t mean the same thing to everyone.”

“It’s later than you think. It always is, really.”

“Don’t mind me, I’m just hallucinating.”

“Oh, stop talking, I killed you!”

“May I join you on your lonely quest for redemption?”

“I thought there’d be more disobedience in our civil disobedience.”

“We really need less sulking and more strategizing here.”

“I won’t do it. Find somebody else to play your hero.”

“If you really loved me then you’d stay.”

“You haven’t listened to a single word I said. I’m done.”

“Let’s try that again with 80% less wallowing.”

“Do you think budget details could actually cause a person’s brain to bleed?”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

“I wasn’t sure if you were gonna come back.”

“I thought we’d get along better if we established some boundaries.”

“Not that it’s any of your business but I didn’t kill anyone.”

“Look, I may not know what you’ve got up your sleeve but are you sure you want to do this?”

“I didn’t mean for it to work out this way.”

“I guess I should have known that something like this was coming.”

“I’m not just avoiding you”

“If you dissect it, it can’t hurt you.”

“Life is awful and incomprehensible, so it’s usually better to be terrified together.”

“We’re gonna need gauze and peroxide and possibly ether.”

“I know your heart’s in the right place, ___, but you’re really not thinking this through.”

“It’s not perfect, but things are getting better.”

“If things go sideways, I’ll put you down for the first I told you so.”

“You’re gonna confess what you did or you’re gonna die screaming.”

“I’m going to burn! You! Away!”

“I am SO tired. Tired on like, a cellular level.”

“Didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“What makes any person sacred to another?”

“You want the kind of love that clicks. Like a key into a lock. But I don’t have any of that to give you.”

“I wish I could say that it doesn’t matter, but it does.”

“God, you’re predictable. It’s embarrassing.”

“Just because I’m too practical to kill you for sport, doesn’t mean you aren’t expendable.”

“You still aren’t sure?”

“Time has already changed us.”

“You know what the world is? It’s a fight to the death.”

“Either you have the power, or you serve the power.”

“You know, just for once it would be nice to get good news for a change.”

“Sounds like… the only plan that we’ve got.”

“Don’t you think death can be beautiful?”

“Those are bloody footprints! We do not run in the direction of bloody footprints!”

“This isn’t a crime scene, it’s a setup.”

“This world can be a messy place, and if a girls going to get anywhere, she might have to spill a little blood.”

“Sometimes the truth is insufficient to the needs of one's soul.”

“Are we all about to die or what?”

“That temper of yours is gonna put you in a bind someday.”

“There’s almost nothing in this world that’s absolute.”

“You’ll be surprised what one can learn to co-exist with.”

“I am going to hunt, torture, and kill you. And it won’t be satisfying if it ends too quickly so you need to run.”

“I’m also thinking you’ve got some serious PTSD, or maybe that’s me.”

“Look- I know we’re in trouble, but when you’re the only one trying to fix a messed up situation, maybe it’s not all your fault when things go sideways.”

“Yes, yes, very touching. Here’s a hammer and nails.”

“___, I don’t know if you noticed, but we’re losing. And we’ve been losing for a while now.”

“How are we supposed to come up with a plan to save ourselves with nothing?”

“We need your help. ...sorry, I just vomited in my mouth a bit.”

“I don’t think I can stand losing anyone else.”

“I’m ready to suffer and die as long as it’s for the right reason, the right person.”

“Everything that I’ve ever done to uphold what I think is right has caused so much damage.”

“You’re in this mess because I am anything but a hero.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe “hero” isn’t one thing that one person was supposed to be by themselves?”

“The universe doesn’t care whether you live or die, you just do or don’t.”

“Does that mean no one is coming to save us? Fine. We can save ourselves.”

“I’m sorry, I expected more angst on that.”

“I feel like I lost myself.”

“A moment of forgetting to care isn’t the same as a lifetime of apathy.��

“I might not always like the choices you make, or the way things turned out, but I think it would be infinitely more tragic if you let it stop you from trying.”

“Wait long enough by the river’s edge, and the bodies of your enemies will float by.”

#carmilla #rp #rp starters #starters #sentence starters #sentence starter meme

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spilledparchment · 4 years

Note

Hi i just saw you made a post about not downloading the covid-19 tracking app? I just wanted to mention because i know a lot of the news coverage has been skipping this but it doesn’t actually track your location it just uses bluetooth to ping other phones w the app nearby which really helps for contact tracing. that way if you come into contact with someone and don’t remember you’ll know to get tested even if you’re asymptomatic. If you know all of this that’s cool i just thought i’d mention it

I appreciate you sharing that and I’m sure it would be helpful for people to know. I am aware of how the app works and that it is not quite the same as, say, Apple actively tracking me unless I turn it off in settings. That said, it is still creating a map of my movements and my connections and who I interact with. This is fundamentally not something that I am comfortable with the government having.Educated minds can disagree about this tracking app, because you are right that it can be helpful when it comes to tracing incidental contacts and helping to flatten the curve. My concerns come in triplicate: that this can be accomplished with existing measures, that I don’t trust the benign nature of the app, and that the government will not cede this power once the crisis ends. The first thing to understand here is that the government already has access to a massive and unprecedented amount of information about the private lives of citizens. To start with here are all those pieces of legislation the government passed regarding metadata access and metadata retention. The legislation that was passed in 2015 was passed on the grounds of national security (which Covid 19 manifestly is) and was justified using the oft repeated phrase that if you have nothing to hide you have nothing to fear. Which is blatantly untrue and to quote Terry Pratchett: Commander Vimes didn't like the phrase 'The innocent have nothing to fear', believing the innocent had everything to fear, mostly from the guilty but in the longer term even more from those who say things like 'The innocent have nothing to fear'.

Accessing the metadata information of individuals diagnosed would be much more effective in contact tracing than an app which by your account can only track others with the app. This could be done using the existing - excessively lenient - framework embedded in legislation. The problem for the government is, I think, that using metadata in this way would highlight just how detailed metadata is. This would then cause a problem given the official government party line at the time was that the information was of so little import that only the guilty would care that the government has this knowledge about the movements and affiliations of private citizens.

The leads into my second concern. I am expected to trust a government which has repeatedly lied about who has access to metadata information, the treatment of Asylum Seekers, and its own behaviour to be telling me the truth about what this app is accessing. This government has access to the information that can be provided via this app through existing court processes. By which I mean they can apply to access an infected person’s metadata to confirm their movements so that if that individual, like the nurse in the Northern Territory, was mistaken in fact about their movements it is easier to know where they were. The government can then follow existing processes in publicising movements to ensure that members of the public who were in contact with the infected person was aware. Which is, incidentally, what they would need to do for those individuals who have not downloaded the app. Furthermore, there is no real reason to believe that our contact tracing methods are flawed. We have little to no community spread- ie unknown infected individuals infecting other individuals. Which does make me wonder why I am expected to believe that this app is so benign and adds so little to the existing process that it is our silver bullet to fixing everything. As a brief tangent, I am also supposed to believe that this app which was developed by the same people behind Census Fail, My Health, MyGov and the Centrelink website is going to work. Which is a bit of a stretch to be honest.

My third concern is that once a government - any government - has accumulated power under a crisis situation there is no real reason to believe that they will give it up. I am thinking here about the massive amounts of surveillance and surveillance powers instituted in the wake of September 11 and justified by saying these changes were temporary. Similarly a host of badly designed legislation with excessively broad language - which should they be implemented as written would have an incredibly chilling impact on democratic institutions - was passed under the rationale of stopping terrorism. In Australia, for example, it is illegal to make any statement which has the potential to cause someone else to take action against the government. The key point here is that this has been interpreted not just to mean a direct incitement or a rational individual, but any criticism which an irrational person is inspired by (see Inside Australia’s Anti-Terrorism Laws and Trials by Andrew Lynch, Nicola McGarrity, and George Williams).

This means that I do not have reason to believe that the government will willingly or easily give up the ease of access to information about individuals associations that they gain from using this app. A point which I think was highlighted excellently by the since retracted statement that if Australian’s do not voluntarily download the app the government will make it mandatory. This is also a government which has demonstrated a distrust of public protest and a noted tendency towards preferencing authority and order over the free press and the rule of law. See here the ABC raids and the government’s rewriting of legislation in order to win High Court cases brought by Asylum Seekers detained without trial.Which matters because even if you trust this government with this information you have no guarantee that you can trust successive governments with this information which can then use this information for nefarious purposes. No country is immune to authoritarianism, it can happen here too. Which means that when we cede power to government in the present we are also ceding that same power to governments in the future.

Thanks for sending me this ask and I hope you understand my concerns and disagreements a bit better than you would just from reading a short and pithy post I made while outraged.

#auspol #asked and answered #covid 19 #privacy

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luciferpens · 4 years

Text

Nightshade || Harleen

What: Harley and Eve run into one another at Nightshade. Its awkward. Where: Nightshade When: August 14, 2020 Mentioned: Ivy, Vera, Rue, Remi TW: hinted at rape @icarialex

Even though she wasn’t usually someone who went out with coworkers, she couldn’t keep turning people down. So, that was how Harley wound up heading to Nightshade after her shift with two of the other nurses from her department. The blonde didn’t really plan on doing much beyond having a few drinks and a good time, but that went out the window the moment her eyes landed on Eve. The scene that danced before her was one she’d seen so many times before as the writer flirted with a woman. When brown eyes met her blue, Harley wanted to curse herself for how wounded she most likely looked. Instead, she diverted her gaze and immediately ordered a shot of gin at the bar. The nurse wished she could walk up to Eve and explain that the feeling she had coursing through her right then was why she didn’t talk to the woman, but she wasn’t that person. She couldn’t walk up to her best friend being petty and mean just because she was hurt. No, it would be easier to just ignore the situation all together. Just spend two or so hours with her coworkers so they were happy and leave was the best course of action.

After the first shot though, Harley switched to a gin and tonic. Getting drunk on top of being upset was definitely not a good combination. Causing an earthquake was never high on her list of priorities which was why she tried to stay as in control of her emotions as possible. She managed to have some sense of willpower as she sat at one of the high chairs that kept her back towards Eve’s direction. It kept her from turning around to see what she knew was looks of panic, confusion, and sadness. Harley didn’t want to comfort Eve right then because she knew deep down that talking to the woman was a bad idea. Her best friend never did feelings and coping by partying was what Eveleen did. So, the blonde did her best to laugh and joke as she was known to do as time slowly ticked by. Eventually, the drinks and water caught up with her which led to Harley entering the bathroom. As she exited the stall though she caught familiar brown eyes in the reflection of the bathroom mirror by the sinks. Knowing she couldn’t just ignore the woman as they were in such close quarters together, Harley greeted with a, ”Hi,” as she approached the faucet herself. Although, she didn’t know just what else she should say.

---

Nightshade had become Eve’s favorite spot on the isle, with her sister working as a DJ there, her ex-girlfriend owning it… it felt a bit like home, a bit like safety and normalcy. Eve used the place to unwind, to relax and get her fix. She wondered the dance floor flirting up a storm, using her powers to cause a more ecstasy on the dance floor. And that was exactly what she was doing, leaning against poll chatting up with a man a smirk on her face as she lightly brushed his arm, sending a wave of excitement through him and those around her. But as she pulled her hand away, her eyes drifted to blue ones that belonged to Harley. Her heart jumped into her throat and she froze in place. Harley looked so hurt and upset by her presence there, by what she was doing. She had started to open her mouth as if to say wait when Harley turned her attention away and ordered a drink. She saw the woman turn her attention back to two other women that she came with and pursed her lips eyebrows shooting upwards. Fine. . Eveleen would do the same; she started to flirt with more people to send more of an excited, curious and energetic wave out. It influenced those around her to drink more, to crave more wine, more excitement. That distracted her from the fact that Harley was around the club, enjoying herself as well. She finally decided to truly let loose and start dancing. She drank, she danced and then -- she realizied the bathroom was calling her name. . She had just exited a stall and was pausing at mirror after washing her hands to reapply her lipstick. She was leaning forward, adding red lipstick back on when she saw Harley in the reflection. Eve took in a long breath and then slowly let it out. “Hey…” she said letting her voice trail off as she slowly lowered her lipstick to the sink countertop and watched Harley through the mirror. “You look cute tonight.”

---

Harley looked down at her outfit and shrugged a little bit. Out of the two of them she was the one that cared less about what she threw on. As long as the colors didn’t scream in contrast too much she was good. That evening she was standing in front of Eve in tight red pants and a navy dress with a retro leather jacket thrown over it. Everything was tight enough that it gave a good view of her body, and the vest even showed a little midriff too. Still, the fact that it went together so well was more luck than anything else since she’d picked it all when she was half asleep before her fourteen hour shift. ”I can’t take credit. I’m pretty sure my eyes were half closed when I grabbed these clothes and tossed them into my duffle with some heels last night. Only reason I’m standing in front of you instead of napping in some corner is because I caught some shut eye in an on call room before being dragged out tonight.” She had no idea how her colleagues had so much energy. Well, that was until she remembered that she was the only one on call for emergency surgery the night before, so they all had a more reasonable amount of sleep.

Talking about work was easier than dealing with the things that were being left unsaid between the two of them. Harley wanted to kick herself for not remembering that a spot like Nightshade would be the woman’s stomping grounds. Walking into the only dance club on the isle while the writer was trying to sort through her emotions was like asking to be punched in the face with flirtations and debauchery. ”You don’t look so bad yourself though, but that stopped surprising me a long time ago,” she managed to say back with a small smile. The nurse didn’t understand why the urge to add as many people in the club are appreciating, to that sentence was so strong. She’d had feelings for Eve for ages and seen what she saw when she first walked into the club a million times. The only difference was that she’d been asked to put those feelings out into the universe, and that was stupid. Harley moved to grab some paper towels to dry her hands which also provided some distance between herself and the other woman. ”I’m probably going to be heading out soon,” she said with a sigh at both herself and the situation. Not knowing what to say to Eve was definitely new, frustrating territory. Harley was usually the queen of adding laughter to awkward situations, but there she was letting the tension continue to rise as uncertain blue eyes stared into brown. At least she managed to keep eye contact. She’d take the small win.

---

Eve rolled her eyes at Harley’s dismissal of her compliment, “Well even half closed and half dead before your shift you’ve apparently retained some of what I taught you back in L.A.” she said letting a smile slip over her lips. “Though, we’ll have to get you a new belt.” she said, shaking her head at the simplicity of the belt the woman was wearing. Eve was almost tempted to take off her Gucci belt and wrap it around the other woman but decided against it for fear of it all being a bit awkward. Plus the time it would take to unlace from the black sequined miniskirt she was wearing would be a pain in the ass. “And, you need lipstick.” she said, wiggling the lipstick tube she had in her hand around, it was the same shade of red as Harley’s pants. She smirked, and like she had hundreds of times before, back when they lived in L.A. she reached forward and took Harley’s head into her hand and quickly swiped on some lipstick to the girl’s lips before letting her go and returning to where she had been a second before. “Better.” she said with a little shrug.

“I’m guessing they dragged you out despite your protests of being a bit sleepy still?” she asked, realizing that the people she had seen Harley with earlier must have been some of her coworkers. Or at least some of them were for sure. Unless they just abandoned her, in which case she’d have to go yell at someone. After a second she shut down the thoughts she had of misplaced annoyance towards Harley’s coworkers. She knew the isle was… well actually, no, the isle wasn’t truly safe enough to walk around by yourself anymore. At least if the police order she had read was anything to go off of. Her roommate was just outside waiting for her to come back so they could go dance once more. She glanced to the other closed bathroom stall door and paused for a moment before turning her attention back to Harley. “Ah -- thanks” she smiled. Her top was multi-layered; a black off the shoulder, almost tulle like fabric was covered in black polka dots with large bishop sleeves resting over a black tube top. She layered three necklaces over it and added some black heels to complete the whole look. “Don’t leave on account of me,” She added a second later as she slipped the lipstick into her bra, hiding it away. “You’ve not been here very long -- and you really shouldn’t be by yourself with -- all thats happened lately.”

---

”It’s hard to forget anything involving you,” Harley said honestly. There was one moment in particular she’d tried so hard to forget. The kiss Eve had given her when she was drunk off her ass was what she’d been trying to scrub away from her brain. There was no point in holding the memory when the other participant had zero knowledge of it having happened. She smiled and shook her head slightly at her best friend. Harley had learned long ago that there was always something Eve would tinker in her outfits. It wasn’t something she ever took personally. The lipstick did shock her a bit, but she fortunately kept it off her face. It was something they’d done so often, and yet, now that feelings had been thrown out there things were different. That was also why she didn’t want to say anything. Feelings made the air between them shift, and every time she saw the woman she was left wondering if anything that she felt was reciprocated. ”Thanks,” she said with a smile.

Changing the topic to her knucklehead coworkers was much appreciated. Harley groaned and nodded her head. ”I’m often on call because I’m the lead anesthetic work, and I’m needed for any surgeries that happen in pediatrics. So, that can make for funky hours. Still, I’ve put this off long enough that I would have been carried here if I said no again anyways.” Going voluntarily seemed like the much better option. Fortunately, Harley could sleep in the following day since she was off. Her bed was calling her name. Although, knowing her she wouldn’t stay in it for long. Surfing in the morning was her favorite way to start the day. While Harley wished she could stay in spite of Eve being there, she knew it was best for her to go home. ”Really, it’s okay. I’m tired anyway, and I really don’t think I can handle seeing you flirt anymore tonight. You’re single and should if that’s what you want to do obviously. I have no say in that, but I know I should probably head out.” Nightshade could be Eve’s turf to do what she needed to do. That was something she could live with. It wasn’t like hitting the club and partying was something she did often. ”I can text you when I get home if you want. Or you can come with me if you’re going to worry too much,” Harley said with a shrug. She didn’t know how much Eve wanted to party, and the nurse’s mind was obviously a mess. Things were awkward but she still wanted to spend more time with Eve? Love was stupid.

---

Eve swallowed hard as Harley spoke; being confronted with feelings, hell even the idea of feelings made Eve squirm. After all that had happened to her, she couldn’t bring herself to be comfortable in a relationship, couldn’t really bring herself to be comfortable with feelings, deep feelings really. But when she saw Harley smile she returned it and nodded her head. “Any time,” she said with a shrug and cleared her throat. “You’re the lead?” She said her eyebrows shooting up, “I shouldn’t be surprised, of course, you are. I’m glad they’re forcing you to have some fun time instead of locking yourself in the house all the time.” she had been the one to force that back in L.A. and knowing that the woman had friends looking out for her, had people willing to make her go out and relax a bit.

Pursing her lips and frowning she nodded her head. Harley wasn’t wrong but she disliked how this was all headed. She didn’t like how the only thing that seemed to be calming her down was partying; it distracted her, it allowed her to forget what was eating at her soul. And the admission of feelings -- well a good party was the perfect distraction. She glanced to the door, the idea of getting back into the party, but then back to Harley and shrugged her shoulders. It was Harley, she couldn’t pretend she didn’t want to hang out and see her friend. “Come with you?” she asked eyebrows shooting upwards, “I mean, at a bare minimum I want to make sure you get home safe.” She said with a shrug, “I can walk you home.” she added a second later. Its not like Harley could live that far, the isle wasn’t that huge.

---

Eve had been there through it all in the blonde’s education. She’d seen the long nights studying, reminded Harley to eat, and even kept food warm for her when she started her clinical hours which were always crazy. So, being able to tell the woman that she’d done well in her career was nice. Sharing the little things, because honestly to Harley work was such a little thing in life, was one of the many things she’d missed in their friendship. ”Head anesthetic nurse I think is the professional title, but whatever, same thing. I’m just happy I get paid to comfort kids while acting like a big one myself,” she said with a giant smile. It was the best part of her job. Surgery was always a scary thing, but to kids it could be terrifying, so it was nice that she was able to bring smiles to their faces by acting like a dork whenever possible. ”Yeah, I have a few people that stop me from being just a beach head and homebody. Don’t you worry. Plus, with you here, I’m sure I’ll get all my socializing in for sure.”

Blue eyes caught the glimpse towards the door and sighed. Harley was always a pretty observant and emotionally intelligent person. Growing up with a woman who suffered from Bipolar Disorder made her accustomed to noticing little changes in behavior which carried on into her adult life. ”This is why I didn’t want to tell you about my feelings. You asked why I didn’t tell you, and this is a perfect example,” she said calmly. There was no anger or resentment in her words, but rather acceptance of how things would go. ”The only thing worse than having your feelings rejected is seeing them make someone else uncomfortable or unsure of things. I know partying is your default coping mechanism. So, if you’re not ready to deal with this yet or me, you can go back out there. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll ask one of my coworkers to walk me home so you don’t have to.” Harley didn’t want to make Eve feel out of sorts. The only thing she’d ever wanted to do was make the woman happy. Right then, she honestly didn’t know what was the right thing to do, but she didn’t want them to be forced together when Eve was still trying to wrap her head around things.

---

“Head anesthetic nurse.” Eve repeated, “A giant child taking care of other children.” she shook her head and let out a long sigh. How she could always be so childlike -- even at work amazed the writer. Eve had to much going on in life, too much chaos and expectations from her mother. It was either full throttle work which meant seriousness or a needed release of power and then a crash, which meant a party. Childlike wonder and playfulness -- that wasn’t really a thing for her. But maybe now -- maybe being on the isle meant she’d get some of that time. “I’m glad there are others up your butt and making you relax a little. And yes, you will for sure get more socialization with me being around… even if its a little weird.” she said deciding to just call out their awkwardness for what it was.

Eveleen clenched her jaw a bit as she spoke and let her eyes dart around Harley’s face, taking in all the little details, all the little expressions that crossed her face as they spoke. “Because a couple of days of me needing to get my head on straight?” she asked eyebrows shooting up, “You know if we had had this conversation years ago we wouldn’t be in such an odd situation right now.” she sighed. “I’m not rejecting your feelings -- there’s just…” she let out an even longer sigh, “There’s just a lot going on in here --” she tapped at her temple. “A lot I have to -- get over, to accept and move on from before I can be in a good enough place to ever… be that sort of thing for someone.” she said putting extra emphasis on the word, not able to even bring herself to say girlfriend or relationship as she tapped her own chest. She leaned against the wall she was about to open her mouth to say more when two more women walked into the bathroom laughing up a storm. She waited as the two women stumbled into the bathroom stalls, still talking before she looked back to Harley.

---

Hearing Eve’s words made the blonde smile brightly. That was the best part of her job after all. ”Who better to relate to them than someone who can really get on their level?” While the blonde didn’t really have a normal childhood and had to grow up much faster than most, she still could easily access the part of her brain that held the memories of all the things she wanted to do. Perhaps they were at the forefront of her mind so much because she never got to do them, but she didn’t really dwell on it all too much. Harley was happy she was able to turn what many would see as a sad story of her life into something positive. At the mention of them being awkward, Harley shrugged her shoulders. ”This will blow over eventually. You’ll forget about it before you know it and be wanting cuddles from me in no time.” Honestly, Eve had forgotten much bigger things between them before, so Harley was sure it would be fine. There was a decent amount of alcohol and some weed combined in the last time, but still, she firmly believed they’d be fine. Putting her feelings in a Pandora’s box would have to work eventually.

Harley rolled her eyes affectionately at the woman because honestly, she couldn’t ever be really mad at Eve. Well, at least it hadn’t happened yet. ”No, not because you need a few days but because you don’t do this. You haven’t done feelings in forever, and I knew that. I knew it better than anyone. So, me telling you even a fraction of how I feel about you would make things awkward and just be uncomfortable for us both.” The idea that having the conversation years ago would have made things better made her arch an eyebrow. ”Can you honestly look me in the eye and say that three years ago that if I’d told you I wanted to be with you that it would have gone well? We were younger, and you were someone who was still dealing with a past relationship and loved partying. You haven’t wanted to be with anyone since Chester.” Harley listened to the rest of her best friend’s explanation and was even given a pause to digest it all due to people entering the bathroom. Once they were out of sight, all the nurse could do was nod her head because she did understand. ”I didn’t say you were rejecting them. I just said the only thing worse was seeing your feelings for someone make them uncomfortable. Being the person to make you feel so unsure and out of whack isn’t something I ever wanted to be. So, I can just get someone to walk me home. You can stay and party things out of your system until you’re ready to talk to me sometime.” One thing Eve had going for her was that she was dealing with someone that had seen how she coped before, so that saved time with explanations.

---

A small lift of her shoulders and a nod of her head was the easiest response. Because really — it was always easier to work with kids if you could relate to them and act like them. No one was better at that then the blonde before her. But at the mention of forgetting about it she furrowed her brow and pulled her head back slightly “Forget about it?” she asked almost insulted “I’m not gonna forget about what you said.” she muttered followed by a scoff and a long breath out. She shook her head again, sure she was a bit lose, but she wasn’t anywhere near the point of forgetting things. That would require weed and something harder to get to that point. And as far as she knew — only weed was readily available in this club. “What makes you think I’m going to forget about the fact that you told me you had feelings for me? I was sober then, and while I may not be totally sober now that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget it or just — let it go.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and listened quietly to Harley as she spoke a small shiver ran down her spine at the mention of it being a fraction of what she felt and set her mind racing. Eve was lot in that thought, lost in what it meant to have someone feel something for her beyond the want to party or lust when she heard that name. It felt like a hand gripped around her heart forcing her mind and body to freeze in place. Her breathing hitched and she just stared. Her eyes glazing over at the mention of his name. To some, her reaction would look like overwhelming sadness over the loss of love; to anyone who knew her then they might think she was sad over his death; to her therapist? To Ivy? They’d recognize the fear and know she needed to do something to change the subject before her mind spiraled down. She couldn’t have been more thankful for the sound of a toilet flushing and the door opening again in her life. The slight distraction allowed her to try and recollect herself. She couldn’t, wouldn’t answer that question because it would be painful and be to close to a subject she wasn’t ready to talk about yet. “Understand.” she said her voice colder than she meant it, but being reminded of him? Well that usually shut her down more than she realized, “I -- Um -- My friend Remi is probably nearby if you need someone to walk you home. Oh, and Rue is for sure here, she would be happy to walk you.” She said as Vera poked her head into the bathroom and raised an eyebrow “You good?” she heard and Eve nodded, “Yeah one sec V.”

---

Life was a cruel mistress. That was Harley’s conclusion because there she was with the girl she’d had feelings for longer than she cared to admit asking her a question that was hard not to laugh at. What made her think Eve would forget? Well, that was a loaded question, but it all went back to what happened right before she left California. How could she tell her best friend that she hadn’t remembered the amazing make out session they had partaken in? There wasn’t a way without the conversation turning much more complicated. Plus, she doubted that would help their current situation any. ”I don’t know. People forget hook ups and stuff all the time on nights like these. Plus, I just don’t want to make things difficult. I want you happy not stressed out,” she replied with a shrug of her shoulders. That didn’t mean she could resist the urge of slipping a small hint of it in there. .

Everything was fine until it wasn’t. It all gave the blonde a bit of whiplash when she suddenly heard a tone from Eve that had never been aimed at her before. Harley hated Nightshade. The last time she’d been there she’d thought she saw Eve in the club, and now she was actually fighting or something not pleasant with the woman. Hurt appeared in blue eyes as Harley’s body language shifted and shrunk away slightly from the woman before her. Not able to really find her words yet, Harley just shook her head and shoved her hands in her jacket’s pockets. ”I’ll be alright. I’ll get someone to walk me,” she said with a quieter voice than before which she honestly didn’t know if it could be heard over the music. Even when they’d fought about her distancing herself from her friendship, the blonde hadn’t received the tone she’d just gotten. Hell, Eve was hitting on her for crying out loud even when angry. Now, things seemed to be messed up and just confusing. ”Text me if you need me, but it looks like you’ve got that covered with people,” she said with as much of a smile as she could muster as she moved to exit the bathroom.

---

She noted the mention of a hookup and stuff like this and filed it away to examine later when her mind wasn’t playing cruel tricks on her. “Harley, you told me all of that a couple of days ago, before a night like this.” she said staring the blonde down her voice was still cold, still distant, she was lost in her own head and the memories that were intruding into her perfectly normal day. “I’ll stop being stressed out when people stop bringing up Chester to me.” she added a second later feeling a shiver run down her spine, almost as if he was touching her back and pushing her forward. She swallowed hard and wanted nothing more than to go outside and get a breath of fresh air. Something away from the heat of all the bodies dancing and the smell of a bathroom, even if it was clean.

Eve knew she was being cold, knew that Harley was freaked out by it all, and if she had control over her emotions right the she’d comfort the other, tell her its not her fault but memories and fear were roiling in her and she couldn’t seem to calm her body down. She just nodded her head as Vera moved into the bathroom and started to rub Eve’s back trying to calm the woman down. Eve glanced over her shoulder as Harley left and then let out a long breath before saying “I need air V. Can we go outside?” and with a nod from the other woman, they vanished into thin air.

#Eve: c: Harley #Harley #Eve: chats #Eve #Discord

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aurelieparra · 4 years

Text

It always amazed her how excited people were to ring in a New Year. They counted down the seconds as though they couldn’t wait to be rid of the last.

Wishing the time away could only be the pursuit of fools who hadn’t lost as much as she had.

The crowds had gathered at the front steps of The Kingdom, and the excitement amongst guests was palpable. Things had gone off without a hitch thus far; an expected feat, given the person she was lucky enough to be co-hosting with. People were happy. Hopeful for what was to come. It was a helplessly contagious feeling, and as the woman squeezed her husband’s hand, stepping outside so they could have a better view of the night sky when the fireworks began, she realised she’d spent more of the last decade missing that feeling than experiencing it.

To say the years before had been difficult was an offensive understatement; so inadequate a description of the hurt she had suffered that she’d selfishly laughed in the face of all empathy.

Aurélie’s mother had been pried from her by the cruellest of Russian hands, and she knew then, the same as she still knew today, that she didn’t have it in her to recover. Losing her little sister had only compounded the pain. It’d hit home the fear that everything dear to her was at risk. That she could be without those closest to her at any moment. That they would never have enough time. Launceston had taken so much from so many people—it’d almost taken her best friends, it’d almost taken her—that calling it home for a lifetime wasn’t enough to keep her from leaving.

A fresh start. Surely she deserved that much.

As she looked up at Oliver, she considered their life now, and how different it was from where they had started. To this day, she was sure she had never regarded someone with such awe. Had never loved someone so completely that the idea of ever being without them physically hurt in a way she wouldn’t have imagined possible before him. They had lost so much but gained even more. Aurélie wasn’t too proud to admit that he was the reason she had survived. The only reason, in her darkest hours, that she’d wanted to.

She thought about their three beautiful children.

About a grandfather she wished they’d had more time with.

“I love you,” she mouthed, no hope of being heard over the chants as the countdown began.

The woman smiled, her arm loosely finding its way around his waist as she leaned into him. Blocking out the rest of the crowd was always easy when he was her company. The very first time she’d met Oliver Parra, he might as well have been the only person in the room, and whilst they both might’ve changed over the years spent at each other’s side, that never would. Never could. Aurélie rested her head against his shoulder, closed her eyes as her body fought bittersweet tears.

The crowd shouted ten.

Nine.

Aurélie had never been a fan of resolutions, but this year she had a big one.

For all she could cry about what the last decade had taken from her, she was the only one who had the power to make the most of what she had left. Jenifer and her mother were gone—no amount or mourning, or revenge, or punishing herself could bring them back—but no matter what had transpired between them since the divorce, she still had her father. A man who had tried, despite the protests from a scorned child, to be a part of her life even when she had done nothing to deserve his kindness.

This year she would fix things with her father.

She had to.

She owed him that. She owed herself.

She owed her children, Nicolas, Éliza, and Célène, the same relationship with their grandfather as the one that’d defined her entire being. The one that had encouraged every meaningful part of her. The one that had made her the woman she was today.

When the clock struck midnight, she was holding Oliver so close.

They might not have been big on public displays of affection, but given the nature of the evening, she didn’t leave him with much choice. The kiss was gentle. So was her smile.

A moment later and her head found its way back to his shoulder, glancing lazily up at the colours that flooded the night sky overhead. Her fingertips clung to the back of his jacket, and she found herself hoping, as the sky turned red with light, that she got to spend all of the New Years she had left like this. With him. Content in the realisation that for as long as she had the love of her life, she could work through whatever the decades to come would throw her way.

Aurélie had drawn her attention away for just long enough to scour the crowds for Veronika’s face.

Another she was sure she couldn’t be without.

She couldn’t help but grin at the sight of so many looking as happy as she felt.

When she’d heard the screech behind them, she was sure that somebody had let loose a bottle of champagne on another guest. It seemed like they were already trying to flood the streets outside with the stuff. Out of mere curiosity, she turned back to see what the commotion was about; eyebrows raised as though ready to judge someone for crying about their Versace ten seconds into the new year.

The scene she was greeted with was anything but.

The confusion of the guests out front faded into insignificance. They pointed to the sky—stopped cheering only to mutter amongst themselves—but she noted little.

All she could see was him.

Blood.

As though her muscles ceased to work, her grip faltered, and the hand she’d been holding onto Oliver with fell away. Her knees almost gave out with it. Her chest. Her everything.

Aurélie had opened her mouth to call to her uncle and yet nothing came out.

It was as though the air had been sucked from her lungs; desperate to shout to him, but physically unable to do anything but watch as she witnessed him fading. Leaving them. Her.

When the others began to notice—as though the mere acknowledgement of those around her made it real—panic began to flood. The support she’d had from her husband’s hold was gone in an instant as Oliver reacted, on reflex; so sure of himself whilst she could only stand there like a deer in headlights. Still, after all this time, useless in the face of this.

Fran was unresponsive.

Maya screamed out and she could feel it.

Until she couldn’t feel anything.

The sound of the fireworks would surely mask the echo of gunfire to those at a distance, but to them—those who were right in the middle of the chaos as it began to unfold—it sounded as brutal and real as she’d come to expect.

When she fell to the ground she was choking.

For a moment, she wondered if it was shock that’d put her there.

Then her hand found the blood pooling in the hollow of her throat; spilling down the sides of her neck, into her hair, down to her dress with each attempt at a breath…

The gunfire didn’t seem so loud after that.

Nothing did.

Maybe time had slowed.

Aurélie had been near death once before—amusingly, at the last attempt she’d made at opening a hotel—but she didn’t remember it being like this. It had hurt then. Seared with such agony that she had wanted it to end, even through the shock.

Was that how you knew you were going to make it?

Was the fact she felt nothing at all a sign that she was leaving them, too?

When Oliver clambered over to her side, pure panic, hands pressing to her throat in an attempt to find and stem the bleeding, she almost smiled. She wished desperately to reach up to his arms but her body was not her own; everything was disconnected, cold, wrong.

She wasn’t sure who helped him drag her out of the firing line.

“I love you,” she repeated as they did.

Never had she struggled so hard to say it. Never would she again.

It felt as though she needed to cough, to clear her chest—no doubt she was inhaling enough of her own blood to drown in it—and yet she couldn’t. Her body wouldn’t allow. It was crushing. Taking away every chance she could to breathe.

“My—my dad,” she attempted, desperate to get out even strangled words whilst she still could. Every ounce of energy she had went to keeping her focus on him. “The kids. Make sure.”

“It’s the fucking Russians!”

The bellowing from another Commandant was so loud that it had snapped her back to reality.

To the gravity of the situation around them, instead of only hers.

The Russians.

Once again, taking a mother from her children. They were good at that.

Wishing the time away could only be the pursuit of fools who hadn’t lost as much as she had.

Couldn’t she have had more with them?

With him?

“Rutherford party,” she said, despite the protests of a woman trying to silence her.

People were still screaming and the gunfire was still sounding, yet a kind stranger had still tried to help save her. Help a lost cause.

Would Oliver cope without her?

Would it be easier for her children than it had been when she’d lost Emily? They barely knew her, after all. They hadn’t gotten the chance.

“They brought them here.” A final act of bitter defiance against them—one last burst of energy enough to break from her paralysis—had her reaching up to grab at Oliver’s shirt. A little strength, but a whole lot of meaning followed: “Kill them all.”

#self para #event: nyethekingdom

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wordsturnintostories · 5 years

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show me your rosettes, baby (g)

summary: The world tour is over and the Bangtan Boys finally get their well-deserved break. When Namjoon suddenly can’t find Jimin anywhere, things take an unexpected and pretty unbelievable turn. “Kim Namjoon!” “Hyung. How common is it for people to turn into cats?” word count: 6.1k note: woooo a looong chapter. contains a special guest. the guessing is over. who is at the door? you’ll see. have fun! ✨

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

what happened before:

“Oh God, no, Jimin-ah,” Namjoon pants in surprise and tries to grab the little one who is just way too curious for his own good. Those blue eyes glow with babylike innocence and Namjoon has to hold on to the wall to not fall for the younger’s charms. No, he wants to say sternly, but something tells him the little leopard doesn’t understand the concept of… things… yet. So all he can do before the doorbell rings a fourth time is to kinda push Jimin away gently and ignore the playful mewl and the sharp claws digging into his big toe. That should occupy him enough, Namjoon hopes and grabs the door handle.

Opening the door feels like playing the lottery. He wonders whether it will be Seijin or someone else. When Namjoon’s brown eyes hit familiar warm eyes, his heart stops for a second. Jackson!? Shit. What do I do?

It’s just his bad luck that he’d not only forgotten to check his business calendar but that he’d also neglected his personal one. With all the changes of plans that Jimin had bestowed upon them during the last days, could anyone blame him, though? Probably not.

Of course, Namjoon does what he has to - he pushes Jimin a little further away, but not far enough to go into a stretched-out position (cause he doesn’t want to look like an idiot in front of his friend - his first impression was enough embarrassment to last a lifetime) and forces a smile to Jackson, one person he’s rarely ever fake-smiled at.

“Kim Namjoon. I want to be mad at you,” is what Jackson says with a pout, “You left me standing here for almost five minutes. You’re lucky I’m so patient.”

Namjoon bows. “I’m sorry. Please come in.”

There’s a clear feeling of defeat when Namjoon feels something sharp digging into his toe. He winces. Not the big one. Jackson notices, looks concerned and sniffs. He’s got a cold, already reaching in his pocket to get a tissue.

“Hyung, are you in pain? Oh, you got a cat?”

“No, why would you think that!”

It’s a fast answer, way too fast and not believable at all because Jimin presses his little body against Jackson’s ankles and everything is ruined. There’s a little rumble and then, from Jackson, a little coo. Plus, a dawning realization (along with an amused cackle).

“This why it took you so long to open the door? You tried to hide this fella?”

“Yeah, I was worried that staff would find out, so I thought that I should be careful.”

“Gotcha. Aw, he’s so cute.”

This hangout is going to be a challenge, Namjoon knows it already with the amount of inner panic that he has to push away even with this one pronoun in Jackson’s mouth. How does he know, is what flits through his mind, but he pushes it away. Jackson doesn’t know. Jackson just called Jimin he because all he sees is a little cat and Namjoon hasn’t specified and actually, why the heck is he worrying so much? Korean doesn’t even have gendered pronouns. Why is he filling in the blanks with his own words? He’s freaking out over nothing, once again. Get your shit together, Kim Namjoon. Don’t assume stuff. He hopes Jackson will buy his acting.

The visiting rapper just continues to talk to the cat, stepping into the apartment and walking into the living room. It looks like Jimin doesn’t quite know what to do from where he had been sitting, distracted from his previous quest to chew up Namjoon’s big toe. Should he follow? It’s like watching the exact moment Jimin’s cat brain makes a decision because after licking his paws once, the kitty gets up and runs after Jackson.

“Yeah, right. So handsome. Oh, and you’re hungry too. Come on, there’s probably something good for you in the kitchen.”

The cub seems to like the guest because it lets itself be picked up without protest or hesitation and rumbles against Jackson’s chest while the two of them make their way to the kitchen that still looks a little wild from breakfast, to be honest. Namjoon would like to sink into the ground when he suddenly becomes aware of what a mess the kitchen table is (an abundance of tuna-mashed-vegetable-spread on the table, yes, directly on the surface). But it seems Jackson really doesn’t mind, he doesn’t even say anything. Instead, he picks up some tuna.

“He’s not on a diet, right?”

What a weird question.

“Uh, no?”

The little cat meows, probably demanding the food Jackson’s been holding in his hand too long.

“Yeah, that’s right. You wanna grow, huh? Become tall and strong. So you can protect your hyung.”

While this interaction is adorable, Namjoon feels like he’s stuck in some sort of film. He half expects someone to come around the corner and yell script lines at him. Is there something specific he has to say next? Are there YouTube tutorials for situations like these? The only thing he knows is that Jackson reminds him of Taehyung in this moment, with that bright love for animals and the gentle, playful way he treats them. It’s not good. Taehyung gets attached too easily and Namjoon is already thinking about how to sell this story. He could pretend that this was a stray cat that he’s found by the apartment. Yeah, that sounds somewhat believable. But what do normal people do with animals like this? Animal shelter, right? Are there any animal shelters nearby? But then Jackson leans back and looks around and Namjoon doesn’t even speak up first.

“Wow, it’s so quiet. Where is everyone?”

“Oh yeah, the others went home to visit their families. They’ll come back in a few days.”

“Even Suga-hyung?”

“At the studio. He’s working hard even on his day off.”

“Wah, your hyung is so diligent. I want to ask him something later. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

“Did you come by to hang out with me or Suga-hyung?”

Both of them laugh at the fake exasperation and the little cub makes happy munching sounds and even purrs a little. When Jackson lets him lick the last bits of fish off his fingers, the leopard cub is eager. Just the feeling of that little raspy tongue on his skin makes Jackson laugh.

“That tingles,” he scolds the kitty. Namjoon watches from the side with a slight feeling of sweat on his forehead. How do I fix this? Once they’re clean, Jackson lifts up the little one, a special warmth resurfacing inside of him. The kitty’s gentle burp vibrates against the palm of his hand.

“Ooh, I can feel how full your tummy is. You’re stuffed, baby.”

Once again, he seeks Namjoon’s eye.

“How long has he been like this?”

“Like this? Here? Um, an hour? Half an hour? Honestly, I was just-“

“Crap Joon, does your management know?”

“No,” Namjoon replies, deflated and retreating into the living room. No, they don’t know. They won’t, because this could ruin Jimin’s career. It could be Bangtan’s end. Namjoon will do everything in his power to keep the secret. Even if he knows secrets are literally the worst thing to keep (next to headaches and caught colds - Namjoon always makes sure to throw them back as fast as possible). And, in his made-up story, management doesn’t know about the stray cat in his apartment either. Stick to your story, Namjoon, he warns himself.

Jackson has Jimin on his arms and whispers something into his fur.

Then, he smiles and says, “Uh-oh. He’s so cute though. They probably won’t be mad.”

The look in Jackson’s eyes is almost loving as the kitten rubs its cheek against the human’s. Soft purring floats through the room and Namjoon wants to coo but he can’t because he has to think. He can’t tell his friend that this is Jimin. Because how awkward would it be to say, “The butt you’re scratching is my dongsaeng’s butt but he seems to like it so please keep going.” Just… no. Seeing that he’s left with no other valid option, Namjoon decides to keep the lie up. How unlikely is it that this is some sort of stray cat? Not that unlikely, especially in Seoul.

“What are you gonna do?”

Namjoon isn’t sure what the question refers to exactly, the way that Jackson says it just sounds so… ambiguous? Like there’s a nuance of this conversation that Bangtan’s leader cannot fully grasp. He hopes his voice doesn’t betray his insecurity.

“What’s the most responsible thing to do? I’ll probably bring him to the animal shelter later.”

“What?”

“I mean, there’s no way we could keep him. It’s inevitable that staff will notice and it will be a mess.”

The dogs are fine and Seokjin’s sugar gliders too, but they all have primary places they can stay while not being with their Bangtan owners. Another animal and management would pull their hair out, probably. Namjoon remembers now that ironically, Jimin and Jungkook had asked for a cat before, but that wish had been denied. For logistical reasons. No one wants to carry another animal around on their trips, especially the tours, with all the airport paperwork and staff having to take care of the stressed animals. Plus, cats usually want to run free, outside and on their own, so how can they ensure that a cat would come back from a walk in a strange, foreign city? Summed up, it’s just not a good idea. Or, rather, not a practical one.

“You’re not serious, right?”

Jackson musters Namjoon like a hawk, like he’s searching for something deeper in his friend’s eyes than just the surface calm. Namjoon is aware, wonders what nuance of this conversation he missed, but knows he has to keep up the lie. This is surreal. Even his heart knows it and pounds heavier than usual.

“Yeah why not? Yoongi-hyung, Hobi-hyung, Tae and I have dogs but that’s already a huge responsibility we often can’t really take care of well. We can’t add another pet to the situation now. Also, strays are not always safe to keep.”

For some strange reason, Jackson looks terrified. He grips Jimin tighter and holds him up against his chest protectively. Why is he so upset? Namjoon is sure he’s a good liar. But he can’t lie about the nervousness spreading in his chest. Suddenly, every little twitch in Jackson’s eyes turns into suspicion until Namjoon isn’t sure anymore if what he’s saying is credible. I should switch the topic. Wait. That’s too suspicious. Oh shit, what have I gotten myself into?

“I really can’t tell whether you’re really cruel or just pretending.”

“Uh, it’s called being responsible. Look-“

“No. I don’t believe you. Because your heart is pounding so fast but it has been the entire time since before I rang the doorbell and you’re sweating but that could just be the heat in this room and I’m not sure how to read all the signs in your scent and-“

“Wang Jackson! W-what are you talking about?”

Jackson looks like he’s on fire with the way he suddenly stands up and tosses his baseball cap on the ground. The snapping spooks Jimin a little, the kitty’s tail puffing up as his head snaps to the side and when he can’t read the situation, he sneaks away to bury himself deeply into Namjoon’s hip.

“Hyung, this is Jimin! And I really can’t believe you’d give your dongsaeng away because of this.”

Even in this heated argument, even with his head spinning, Namjoon can see the tears in Jackson’s eyes when he says this. There’s a feeling of fear in the air and Namjoon can’t grasp the unspoken words between them, the reason for this exposition of emotions. What haunts him all the more are the rising questions. How does Jackson know? Is is that obvious? How would he know something like this? I must be a really bad liar… what did I say? Will he hate me for lying in his face like that? Oh, God…

Honestly, Namjoon is out of words and doesn’t even know how to breathe with all these oppressive worries clogging up his brain but apparently, Jackson does have a couple of words for him because he’s still ranting on. He looks really mad. Thinking turns into a race that only stops when the other taps his shoulder gently. The touch pulls him back and makes him notice how his own fingers are trembling on Jimin’s back.

“Hyung?”

“Yeah,” Namjoon croaks, feeling like the calm from this morning has slipped away completely, like he’d dreamed it up. Maybe that was a completely different day. Now, all that’s present is the feeling of sitting in the rain. It’s cold and depressing.

“Hyung, did you not know?”

He looks at Jackson, his friend, who sports an expression on his face that spells confusion rather than anger at this point, with two dog ears flat against his head. Wait, dog ears?

“Yoongi-hyung and I…. What is-?”

Only then Namjoon realizes there’s something soft gently moving behind Jackson and he stares at the sleek grey thing. A tail.

“Is that a- Are you- Uh, what…?”

“Hyung, I’m a hybrid. And Jimin-ssi is a shifter. How did you not know?”

How would I have known? It’s not like that’s a thing. No one told me. Hybrids. Shifters?

“I didn’t- what’s a hybrid?”

By now, Jimin seeks closeness to his hyung, placing his paws on Namjoon’s lap as if he feels that comfort might be needed. After checking the dimpled face, he nestles himself into those squishy, strong thighs. Jackson watches the younger, giving off a calmer vibe.

“We’re half-half. Half human, half animal. And you’re living together with one. Well, not quite, since he’s a shifter. They’re a little different from us.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Uh. Shifters are… shifters are like the Hulk. Hybrids are more like Spiderman. Kind of like an 24/7 thing. But that’s not the most important right now. Do you know how hard it is to keep something like that secret? Did the others not know either? And why is he so small? Do you not feed him properly?”

When Namjoon doesn’t answer, overwhelmed by how casually Jackson throws these questions at him like they’re all supposed to make sense, Jackson kneels at Namjoon’s feet to reach up and rub Jimin’s ears.

“Do they feed you enough? Do you have everything you need?”

The little cat doesn’t answer, at least not that Namjoon notices and soon, he’s the target of his friend’s hawk-like glance again. What did I do now? What’s wrong?

“Why is he like this?”

“How?”

“He doesn’t respond.”

“Um, should he? He’s a cat, after all.”

“Hyung,” Jackson sounds offended, “shifters don’t lose their minds when they change. We’re not animals. Well, not entirely.”

He pauses. Sniffs the room. Sniffs Jimin, which translates to Jackson burying his nose in Jimin’s belly fur. As allowing as the little one has been during the whole time of this hyung’s visit, he protests now with a river of sweet meows and an ambitious hiss that is not at all menacing.

“Unless… is this his first time shifting?”

It’s a feeling of helplessness and stupidity crawling over Namjoon’s soul and he hates it so much. Whereas he’d just enjoyed spending time with his dongsaeng during the last days, it had been sweet and downright adorable as much as it had been a learning experience, now the realization that he actually knows nothing at all crystallizes. It feels like crap. And it’s bad because he should be the one being able to figure everything out, leading the other six members securely into one direction, towards their goals. He should be able to take care of their needs. And now he’s overwhelmed. What a leader I am. Can’t even see the path I’m on. Namjoon buries his face in his hands and soon, he feels a kind hand rub his arm.

“Ah, hyung-nim. Don’t worry, okay? It’s not easy, but I’m here for you. Hey, you’re all good. You’re doing great.”

Namjoon breathes. Grateful for the emotional bandaid. Normally, Hoseok would be here to do this, but Jackson isn’t so bad at guiding him either. He’s grateful that baring himself didn’t push this friend (one of the few he has) away.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen it, at least,” he manages to breathe out, “I didn’t know he could do that.”

Jackson hugs him, sensing how heavy this is on his friend who always carries such an air of responsibility and leadership. And this isn’t just a small thing. Being introduced to the entire world of this without any pre-knowledge is no joke. Jackson knows the feeling, has experienced it first-hand a couple of times. He watches the cub squirm and sets him down on the sofa, away from his hyung. Jimin just marks the sofa with his little claws but his sparkling eyes never forget to return to Namjoon. It’s clear the little one adores his hyung.

When Namjoon looks up, grateful for the warm embrace that lifts his spirits, his eyes are drawn to a pair of silvery-brown dog-ears on Jackson’s head. They point at Jimin and move with every sound the little one makes. That… is not what he expected to come out of this hangout that had already been rescheduled three times and almost didn’t happen. Life is crazy. Those are real.

“Okay, could you show me his room? I need to get his scent.”

“What?”

As if this conversation isn’t weird enough already, it makes no attempt at stopping the approaching weirdness. Rather, it embraces it.

“We emit pheromones, it’s like a secret language.“

“I know how animal communication works.”

“Great! Has Jimin peed anywhere yet?”

Namjoon almost chokes on his spit. Shit. Will Jimin pee in the apartment? Wait. Where has he peed the last days? Other than on Yoongi-hyung and me… shoot. We took him outside a couple times but what if he-?

“I hope not,” he mumbles weakly. It would be a lie to pretend it’s not fascinating to watch Jackson’s tail wag in obvious amusement.

“He should at least once. It’s his home and he should mark his territory,” Jackson states without batting an eye and when Namjoon’s mind won’t stop thinking about that, quickly jumping to the obvious follow-up question, he blushes.

“Oh God,” Namjoon mumbles and jumps up, followed immediately by his friend.

“What?”

“I ain’t gonna set foot in your apartment again. Hell no. I don’t even wanna know.”

Jackson cackles, no, erupts in of those laughs where he bends his whole body to slap at his thighs because he enjoys the joke just that much. Namjoon frowns. Yikes.

“Let’s go see Jimin’s room.” Jimin is eager to get off the couch and run after his two hyungs the best he can, tail flopping and paws hitting the floor rhythmically.

“He’s a leopard,” Jackson mumbles, “that’s super rare. You’re gonna have a lot of work on your hands once he’s grown.”

“Grown? He grows?”

The look Jackson gives him is stunning. It’s his typical deadpan- Bro, are you kidding me? look.

“How big?” Namjoon whispers, feeling small under the hybrid’s gaze.

“Have you ever seen leopards? They’re big, Joon. Hence the term Big Cat.”

“Shit.”

They enter Jimin’s room, which is clean of course, except for the stuff on the floor that Namjoon hasn’t cleaned up. Jimin doesn’t like chaos (even if he’s dirty while they’re on tour but who is not?) and loves inviting people (aka Taehyung and Jungkook), so it’s mostly clean. Neat for finding things. (Maybe Namjoon should start cleaning up his stuff too. Hoseok would certainly thank him.)

Namjoon looks at Jackson, not exactly sure what to expect from the other, whose eyes travel all over the place. Maybe he’s looking for something specific. How does this even work?

“How’s the, uh… scent?”

He regrets the question as soon as it’s over his lips. There’s another wtf? look for him and he shrugs apologetically. There’s a big chance Jackson’s just messing with him, like he does all the time, but Namjoon isn’t sure if his question might have been offensive or not. It’s not like his ordinary human nose can smell anything other than the mild fruity-bubbly scent that seems to penetrate everything that belongs to Jimin (it’s that frickin’ body spray he brought home from Tokyo when he went with Jungkook, and Namjoon bets Jimin would probably bathe in it if he could because the younger keeps reordering it). (Oh, and the scent mixes with something sweet, probably that glorious liquid gold hair oil. That one is definitely worth the money for Namjoon too.)

“This is definitely his room, smell-wise,” is all the commenting Jackson does before inspecting the room. Mind-blowing conclusion.

Jimin seems happy to be in here, in his own space, and curls up on the bed, happily rumbling to himself on the sheets. When they make eye contact and Namjoon remembers what Yoongi taught him, to blink slowly, Jimin takes the gesture like a gift, purrs in a kitty-thank you and bares his belly. Aware of the high degree of trust that’s on display, the rapper keeps a tight grip on his wrist.

Don’t rub his belly, Yoongi had recommended, nay, warned. What kind of cat expert are you, hyung? That’s common knowledge, had been the elder’s casual reply.

So instead of succumbing to his urges to let the adorableness meet his fingertips, Namjoon stealthily takes a photo. The leopard ears swirl at the audible click. At the same time, Jackson turns towards him. Caught, Namjoon blushes but it doesn’t seem like his guest minds. The tail is still wagging. This is so surreal.

“One thing is strange,” Jackson notes and Namjoon can’t help but imagine the worst thing right away. Is something wrong? Is he sick? What if-?

“What is it?”

“Jimin’s scent is really… weird, somehow.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure… I have a suspicion, but I don’t want to say it as long as I’m not sure.”

“Is it bad?”

“I don’t think so. Don’t worry. I’ll let you know if I can confirm it.”

Namjoon’s head feels like it’s spinning. This is worse than a Seoul-New York jet lag. Honestly, he’s never heard of any of this stuff and he doesn’t know what to think about it either. He only knows that with every passing second, his desire for Jimin to turn back intensifies. Just to turn back, stay human and not cause more stress than necessary. He can’t even imagine what this means for all of the members on a long term basis. A dramatic gasp pulls him out of his sorrowful thoughts.

“Where did he get these?”

“Get what?”

Jackson holds up one of the pill containers from the nightstand next to Jimin’s bed.

“Oh, those are supplements his parents make him take since he was young. Vitamins or something, I don’t know the exact details. But he gets sick without them.”

“Hyung, these are really high-dosed suppressants.”

“Is that… bad?”

“Probably.”

“What do they suppress?”

“His shifting, most likely. Look, his genetic root is a leopard, not a domesticated cat, so you can expect the genes to be strong. Hence these high-concentration suppressants. I bet they wore out, his body got used to it. This,” Jackson looks at the pill tube, reading the banderole, “is a really high dose. It certainly explains why he’s shifted this late. They’re not healthy for his body because they suppress what’s natural for him. Shifters usually turn as children and their parents teach them to control their two forms and their instincts. If he’s taken suppressants since his childhood, it’s all been suppressed and he’ll have to learn all of that now.”

“But will it cause negative long-term effects?”

“I can’t tell you. The only thing I can guess is that his parents are shifters and when they noticed his drive to dance, they wanted to enable him to pursue his dream, to make it far. Hybrids and shifters both aren’t exactly appreciated in the industry, hyung. They wanted to give him a chance. So you’ll have to support him as much as possible. He won’t have it easy now.”

When did Jimin ever have it easy? Namjoon can’t say that this new information sounds good. He takes a look at his dongsaeng that seems comfortable under Namjoon’s warm hand. His mind wanders to Jackson’s dog ears that turn towards Jimin when he starts to purr.

“So, do you have any dog-like instincts or behavior? Or characteristics? Apart from the ears and the tail.”

Jackson’s tail flops against the sofa cushions in a steady, happy thrum. To Namjoon, it sounds like a little beat, happy, maybe bordering on cheeky. Typical Jackson. And this is when Namjoon takes note of how intertwined these animal traits must be - because there’s no way Namjoon can spot the line where they flow into his human ones. It’s all Jackson, all one person. It will be the same for Jimin, right?

When his friend laughs, body moving along with the freehearted sound, Namjoon blushes. Just a little. In retrospect, the question is so weird. So embarrassing.

“Man, I’m surprised you ask. It’s so obvious. You know how I like meeting people. I love people. Also, I’m super athletic. I’ve been told that’s very dog-like.”

After a second of nodding in complete acceptance of the facts, Namjoon’s mind hits the brakes. Hard.

“Tae…” the idea seems ridiculous but kind of realistic enough and he just doesn’t know. He ends up whispering, “…is Tae a dog hybrid like you? He loves people as well and people love him. He’s like a puppy sometimes.”

In his mind, it’s not too impossible, considering he hadn’t known about Jimin all this time, much less Jackson. So when the other shakes his head, Namjoon isn’t fully convinced.

“Why not?”

“He’s not, Joon, don’t worry. He smells human. Don’t get paranoid now.”

“Am not paranoid,” Namjoon mumbles and plays with Jimin’s tail until the cat starts chasing after his fingers. It’s fun to see Jimin playing so freely, even if the claws come out and break Namjoon’s skin.

“Just a little?”

“No. So, how long will he stay like this?”

“When did he change?”

“This is his third day.”

“Since it’s his first time, probably still a day? He doesn’t know how to control it, so it will just happen at one point.”

“It just happens? Like, how?”

“Like farting. It just happens.”

Namjoon’s mind just… blanks. It’s too much information at once. Jackson’s humor doesn’t even register. There are too many things that don’t fit in Namjoon’s mind. He feels emotionally exhausted. Even if there’s nothing that’s really happened during the last minutes. He thinks about Yoongi-hyung, living his best life in the studio. Probably napping. Namjoon wants to nap.

“Or like blanking out,” Jackson cackles, “are you okay, bro?” He only gets a hum in return.

“You know what,” Jackson proposes, “I’ll get you a specialist to come by and check him out. I know someone trustworthy.”

“Jackson,” Namjoon starts and he doesn’t quite know how to go on from there because he feels a headache coming. It’s all too much.

“It’s okay, I’ll give you some time. Text me if you need anything.”

And then, Jackson slips a business card in his hand. It’s a little thinner and strangely, more solid than any other business card he’s ever held. The light catches on it softly, making the vivid grey surface shimmer in the sunlight. It stuns Namjoon when the card warms up against his fingers and he’s even more surprised when the fine white Chinese characters on it somehow… thrum a little against Namjoon’s fingers, like they’re alive and want to get his attention. As if the light and the warmth had stirred them from a hibernation sleep, they swim together and reform into Korean words right before his eyes. Namjoon gasps, looking up at Jackson, who just smiles and shrugs. Surely this can’t be real…? When he looks back to the buzzing paper in his hand (is that even paper?), the card spells, “Call me on this day in a month. Jimin won’t need me until then. You’re doing well, Kim Namjoon. But make sure to tell the others.”

After he’s read the words, they swim together again and almost as if he’s watching a little animation, he sees a white-line drawing of a figure picking up, washing, and feeding a little cat. That’s me. His eyes widen. 잘 했어, 김남준 appears again, after the figures fade. A big sigh falls from his lips. Well done.

When the card keeps silent, no more than the bare grey from the beginning, he’s a little confused. What kind of business card is this? Doesn’t leaving out a number or a name defeat the purpose of a business card?

“There is no number,” he points out. Jackson doesn’t look surprised whatsoever. “Or name.”

“The contact details will be there when you need it.”

“Is this magic?”

“You think Jimin turning into a leopard is not? Everything is magic. We just don’t see it all the time. Actually, you’re a musician, so you should know that by now.”

It’s difficult to keep a straight face after this new information that doesn’t actually make sense (but what does, on this strange day?) and while Namjoon still hasn’t an idea about what to make of the card, he slips it into his pocket. Reassurance softly bumps into his heart without warning, settling there. Relief spreads. It’s nice, a bubbly feeling like champagne. Namjoon finds it almost addicting. It will all work out.

I’ll put the card by my mirror so I won’t forget it, Namjoon thinks. However mysterious the contact may be, if Jackson trusts them, he’ll trust them too. He sits on Jimin’s bed, still working on sorting through all his thoughts and questions. Jimin nuzzles into his hip and Namjoon lets himself fall back. When he closes his eyes, everything swirls around in wild circles. The cat’s fur is soft between his fingers and he strokes Jimin’s back as well as he can, careful to be a gentle giant.

Something rings back in the kitchen and Namjoon is certain that it must be Jackson’s phone. Sure enough, the other rapper perks up from where he had been rummaging through Jimin’s drawers, still looking for something like a clue, something he can’t describe to Namjoon but something that would be helpful in understanding Jimin’s situation.

When Jackson leaves to take the call, Jimin just looks up to Namjoon with his big blue eyes. The latter isn’t sure what he can seem in them.

“What’s wrong, hm?”

The little leopard doesn’t answer, only puts a paw on his hand to sort of hold it there and nibble on Namjoon’s index finger. Maybe he’s teething, Namjoon thinks. I should really get him some toys that he can bite and chew on. Or-

“Are you hungry again? Jiminie?”

Jimin doesn’t reply, only gags and mewls when he takes too much of the finger into his jaw. Namjoon quickly caresses Jimin’s back while the little one shakes from the force of his own body protesting against the intrusion.

“Be careful,” Namjoon chides. He can’t deny the little spike of panic inside of him when his dongsaeng gagged. For a second, he’d been afraid that Jimin would throw up his food from before but right now, the younger seems fine, moving back to chew on Namjoon’s spit covered finger. To prevent further accidents, Namjoon lifts Jimin up and walks towards the living room from where Jackson still hadn’t returned. Hopefully the call doesn’t bring bad news.

Jimin wiggles around in Namjoon’s grip and the rapper feels the small muscles and bones in his hand, can feel the pricky little claws snagging on his skin, can feel the fluffy fur brushing against his fingers. Jimin is a little ball of contrasts, just the same as he is in human form. Cute but fierce. In an alluring kind of way. Small but strong. Kind but ready to hurl you against a wall if need be. Not that Jimin really does that regularly. But he can, potentially, and just knowing that the possibility exists adds to his appeal. As a human, obviously. As a leopard cub, he fits into Namjoon’s two hands.

Namjoon steps into the living room to see Jackson shove his phone back into the pocket of his jeans jacket.

“Management,” he rolls his eyes. Namjoon wonders how often their members get called in by management.

“I actually gotta go, I’m really sorry that this didn’t work out,” he adds and while Namjoon understands, there’s a little hint of disappointment crawling into his mind. But honestly, he’d already forgotten their original plan to hang out to have fun and talk about their lives. Priorities, right?

“It’s fine. Better go before they worry,” Namjoon waves it off, hoping that his own worry won’t show. He’s been with Jimin for three days (not knowing what to make of the situation for three days), so he should be fine (although letting the guy who actually knows stuff go is the stupidest idea ever). It shouldn’t be a big deal and yet, Namjoon really isn’t sure. He knows that the internet is useless in this case (it’s hard to believe that almost every human being on this planet uses it and there’s still next to no helpful stuff on there). On top of that, he isn’t really emotionally ready to prepare the talk with the members and with management on his own, without any advice from an expert.

“Hey, are you going to be okay? I know it must be a lot for you, with Jimin like this. I’ll try to help you as well as I can, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thank you, Jackson.”

“Anything for you, bro. Just let me know. Seriously, just text me.”

“Kay,” Namjoon says. It doesn’t mean he’s happy with how this hangout turned out. “You owe me. Let’s go out for dinner next time.”

Jackson nods.

“Bye Jiminie, hyung is leaving,” he reaches out to boop Jimin’s nose and the little cat rasps a sweet purr as a goodbye. “Yeah baby, see you soon.”

Namjoon looks at the cub fondly, feeling oddly warm about the fact that his dongsaeng treats his friend so well - it’s not that he doesn’t expect him to, Jimin is a very sociable person who loves his friends dearly and Jackson is a loved-by-all social butterfly but Namjoon feels honored to have his younger brother appreciate his choice of friends. It’s just - nice to see.

“You’re such a Dad,” Jackson teases.

“Oh come on, shut up,” Namjoon grins but blushes a little, just like every single time the other rapper exploits this old joke.

“They are all your children, admit it,” Jackson cackles, and while it’s just a joke he loves to bring up over and over again, it’s a little irritating because Namjoon knows that there’s a grain of truth in it. There was a recent interview where he even admitted that wish of his. It’s old, his wish, old with yellowed edges, old with moments of pondering, of wishing that things could be different. Moments of imagining what it would be like to hold little hands in his big ones, to have a little body on his chest, sleeping, to have the power to take all nightmares away with a kiss, to have the power to create a life and make it precious by filling it up with love. Yeah, Namjoon wants that. Sometimes, the wish becomes a painful aching in his heart, mingling with doubt, producing tears. It seems impossible sometimes, and that’s why he is grateful when he meets Seokjin’s eyes and recognizes the quiet understanding in them. It’s those days and moments that Jimin usually sneaks up to him, giving comfort even if his mind doesn’t feel the same longing. It doesn’t matter, Jimin loves to give comfort and Namjoon gives thanks every time. So, until the day comes where Namjoon can really be a Dad (he had confided in Jackson long ago), he will just take care of this group. Maybe not like a Dad would, but he could swear he’s raised Jungkook. And that has to count for something.

“Except for Jin-hyung,” the cackling builds up and Namjoon swears if Jackson doesn’t stop, he will- “he’s your husband, of course.”

“Yah, you’re such an annoying friend, honestly.”

Jackson bursts into laughter even as Namjoon shoves him towards the door.

“You’re so shameless it’s criminal,” he says, groaning.

“I know. That’s my appeal,” Jackson waggles with his eyebrows until Namjoon can’t keep the warm laughter inside his belly anymore.

“You’re ridiculous. Go smooch Jinyoung.”

“Kim Namjoon! Don’t make fun of my babies only because you’re bitter that yours are gone.”

“Oh my god. Okay. Tell your babies I said Hi.”

“Will do,” he gives a thumbs up until his phone rings a second time, “have a good one.”

“You too, man.”

When his door closes, Namjoon stills. He is looking at an empty apartment, quiet now where laughter had been a few seconds ago. He still feels it in his body, the joy that always stays behind when Jackson leaves.

masterlist | moodboard masterlist

tags: @taeshuworld, @justanemptydream, @hoodmeup, @gingerpeachtae

#park jimin #kim namjoon #bts #bangtan #shifter!au #shifter!jimin #leopard!jimin #cute #fluff #lol namjoon is so confused #i kinda feel bad for him #wow #wordsturnintostories #oct29 #show me your rosettes baby (g)#smyrbg #min yoongi

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seraphimluxe · 5 years

Text

Mama × b.b.

summary: In their darkest moments of despair people call for their mothers, but Bucky could never understand why.

Warnings: dark as shit, angst, lots of death, torture, starvation-dehydration-sleep deprivation, violence, just kinda sad imo

a/n: closest thing to whump I've ever written and I'm not sure how I feel. to me the flow is awkward but I think it came out how I wanted it. enjoy 🧡

trigger warning

Bucky's seen a lot of people die in the war. He's seen a lot. He's noted the way the light leaves their eyes, he's noted the way the pain stops the moment just before they're gone, he's noted the way their hands shake, their whole body quivering, and he can never tell if it's from fear, or their body being incapable of processing the pain.

There was one particular thing that was consistent, even among the strongest, toughest soldier, and no matter how many times Bucky heard it, it sent chills down his spine everytime;

they called for their mother.

Never their father, their nanny, beloved pet, their drill instructor, their aunt. No, always their mother. Naturally not every single man did it, but the amount that did shocked Bucky.

Even orphaned men, men who were silent, shy or emotionless, shamelessly calling for a saving grace. Each using their own delegated term for her: mother, mam, ma, mama, mum, mommy, mammy, mutter, he's heard it all, in every language he could thing of.

The first time he'd heard it, it was a chilling awakening to reality. As he heard it more often he began to wonder the reasoning behind it. Surely these smart, strong intelligent young men weren't looking for their mother to appear on the battlefield and magically heal them? Realistically, there was nothing one's mother could do in a situation like that, it would only result in collateral.

He figured it was an apology. A plea for forgiveness, a cry for mercy, that her child– the one she carried, and fed, the one she invested her love in, the one she raised and guided to adulthood– an apology from him, for abandoning her, for leaving her when it was his turn to take care of her, for causing an irreparable hole in her life. Yes, an apology it was, but only the tiniest bit.

But he came to find, that in truth, it was a call. A man regressing to his first instinct, wailing for his mother like he did when he first came into the world, looking for the safety and comfort she once provided. That's what they were looking for: safety.

Regardless of who they were, what their upbringing was, or even their relationship with their mother, she held him and kept him safe for nine months. For many she was so much more than temporary residence, she sacrificed, sought her child's best interest, and loved. Oh, the power of love, and to be the first one to ever love someone, to have that kind of impact on them.

Their whole lives these men had relied on their mother for answers, for comfort, healing, they relied on her to fix things. She always knows where their socks were, where their homework was, how to fix a skinned knee, how to fix a cowlick. And now, when these men are lost and scared, with no sense of security guiding them into the afterlife, they'd turn to her, because she must know. The infant-like belief that she'll protect them if they call for her.

That was absolutely jarring for Bucky.

He could never imagine doing it himself, despite how his friends back home used to joke about him being a mama's boy. He always protested, but only for the sake of his dignity, because they were in fact, correct.

She was a gentle woman. Mild-mannered and polite, like most women in the 30's, but her temper was enough to ignite wet hay. She reminded him of Steve more times than he'd admit, and the idea of leaving either of them– dying– it wasn't something he would let himself think about often.

He thought of her when he fell off the train. He thought of her before he even got on the train. The second before he hit the ground, an apology was ghosting his lips, awaiting release.

He didn't think of her again until after he got his arm. His focus was on the pain. There was so much pain. His hands shake whenever he thinks about it. He didn't understand what was happening at the time. He wasn't sure if he was dead or alive, or what they wanted with him. He thought maybe this was the afterlife, this was his punishment for killing all those men during the war. He couldn't understand.

They made him understand. They beat him, trained him, taught him. He will understand now.

But he didn't. He couldn't understand Russian, he didn't understand why they'd beat him, he didn't understand why no one was coming to save him. Even when they spoke his language, he still didn't understand.

They broke him. They tied him up, bound his wrists and bound his ankles, and they pushed him to his knees.

He didn't understand why they made him take his shirt off. He didn't understand why they hammered his flesh fingers until the bones splintered, why they laughed whenever someone would land a punch on him, why they won't let him rest. He hasn't slept in three days because of their "testing"

He knows they're only testing him for entertainment, and they know he knows. He knows his body is trying so hard to heal, but with no food or water, no rest, and new wounds constantly opening, it's fighting a losing battle.

He thought they might let up soon, the two men seemingly tired of his misery, but he didn't even have the energy to flinch when two new men entered, one with a whip, the other with a knife.

He couldn't take it. The first lash on his back enough send him over the edge. This was too far.

"Stop."

His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Whether it was the incessant ringing, or the dry rasp in his throat, he didn't care enough to wonder.

A shared amused look between the two men was barely visible through his swollen eyes. He could feel his eyes working their hardest to produce tears, but the days of dehydration left his body unable to release anything.

He was humiliated. He was tired. He was hurt. He was broken. He was lost. He was confused.

The combination of these would have made any man terrified, but he didn't even have the energy to be scared. No, he wasn't scared.

He was homesick.

The memory of home was fuzzy, he couldn't even really remember what the concept was. His brain felt like goop from the past few days, so he couldn't quite pinpoint what it was about home, but he knew he wanted it. He missed it.

The flash of an alley, a porch with an iron railing, rain on asphalt, tall brick buildings with lots of windows, the smell of car exhaust and cigarette smoke, a tiled floor.

He didn't know why these random flashes in his head made his chest tug with longing, and why they were so comforting. He tried to hold onto them, to catch them as they shot through his mind.

Another sharp lash across his back broke him from his thoughts, a raw hoarse scream painfully tearing from his vocal cords. His thoughts were far from home. He was suddenly in the room again. The present is the only thing he knows. Pain.

He believes it wasn't always like this, there was a time before the pain. His mind drifts again. He wants security, safety, comfort. He wants to be held, and not hurt. He wants to be cared for– no, he needs it.

A strike across his back, tearing from the scarred flesh on his shoulder, across the other two lashes, and down to his hip.

Mama. A broken, dry sob fires through him, the word like sandpaper in his mouth. The impact sends him lurching forward, almost falling, his hair tumbling and sticking to his bloodied face.

He has broken.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

He remembers her.

The first time they wipe him it doesn't work, they just electrocuted the super soldier. He whispers the word again, his body nearly burned from the failed procedure.

The second time they succeed enough. He doesn't remember who he is. He remembers home, he remembers her, he remembers Steve, but he doesn't know how he fits, or how they relate to him.

The third time, the fourth time, the times when they start to lose count, he's gone. He's pliant. He knows his orders and what he's told. That's all he knows. There's still a gentle faceless frame of safety and comfort lingering in the dark part of his mind. It's fuzzy and hurts his head to think about, but he knows it.

Even when he doesn't know himself, he remembers her.

And then there comes a time where he forgets. His last ounce of comfort, the last remnant of humanity was forgotten.

And then he was lost.

#avengers fanfiction #marvel drabble #bucky fanfic #bucky whump #bucky angst #avengers angst #stucky #james buchanan barnes #marvel angst #marvel whump #avengers whump #bucky oneshot #bucky drabble #avengers oneshot #marvel fanfiction #bucky imagine #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #avengers

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dan-alexander-art · 4 years

Text

Personas

Man it has been a long time since I posted anything. I wanted to apologize for that, things have been hectic. Especially with University but through all that I've been doing a lot of self discovery and realized I'm not one person, but actually six (plus a train of thoughts). Most people might think it's Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID or Multiple Personality Disorder) but that's not what I have. After talking to a therapist about this she's helped me see that they're just different parts of me. I knew it wasn't DID to begin with since I didn't have blank memories. It took awhile but after trying to listen to my different parts I figured out who they are and their own stories. Most have their own tastes of music and that has helped me a lot in figuring out on who they are, what they do and what they're like. So below I their bios as well as a short story of them and how they came to be. This is right to left.

Name: Love and Memories

Nickname: Rose

Likes: Listening to Maroon 5 and songs about love. Look back at happy memories. Giving Lillies or Bonsai Trees to friends.

Bio: Love has been around a long time, he's the second longest persona that existed. When he's around he doesn't care what to wear. When he's present he likes to go back and remember both the good and bad in my life. He has a deeper understanding between a good relationship and a bad relationship. The vines represent a current relationship I have, weather it's a friendship or family relations. When the vines are mostly thorns rather than flowers it means the relationship is toxic and should be fixed. If there are more flowers than thorns then the relationship is healthy. The point where the toxicity has gotten really bad is when the rose on his right eye begins to wither. Whenever we get friends he symbolically gives said friend either a lily or Bonsai tree since these require lots of care, love and patience just like a real friendship. Love isn't too hesitant about forming new bonds but only after a certain amount of time. He's not shy but most people would assume since he doesn't speak much, but in reality he just doesn't know how to communicate well and worries it might come out wrong, misunderstood or offensive.

Name: Beast

Nickname: ---

Likes: Feeding off my insecurities and taunting me

Bio: Beast is a dangerous persona that requires me to have full control of what goes on. Beast can control the other personas. For example Beast can make Love rewind traumatic memories and leave me feeling paralyzed. He is the embodiment of negativity and he enjoys seeing me suffer. If I'm not careful he can and will slowly crawl up behind me. Starting with small whispers of insecurities then building on until he's shouting taunts at me. Shouting all my fears, my worries and my worthlessness to the point of crying.

Name: Hurt

Nickname: Wolf

Likes: Listening to Linkin Park, Three Days Grace, Katy Perry and any type of strengthing music. Wearing rings and bracelets.

Bio: Hurt carries a lot of scars and wounds on him that represent emotional and mental scars and wounds I carry. He doesn't mind showing them off, he actually finds them empowering. To him it shows not only what he's been through but even through all that he's still here. Hurt isn't afraid aside from Beast. Beast is the only thing that scares him. Hurt also doesn't mind crying, it just means he's human like everyone else. When he's around he lets me cry when I need to but also reminds me that there's always a better tomorrow. That whatever is going on in my life doesn't mean the world is going to end and this experience is only going to make me stronger. Hurt's nickname comes from his ability to change into a wolf. The form represents the pride he has for being able to continue walking down this path dispite the curveballs life has thrown at us. Hurt is very wary of new people and doesn't open up on the spot. Though he's very kind and is willing to comfort people who are hurting. He always puts other people ahead of himself. The cracked eye shows that Hurt's soul is part broken, since the eyes are the windows to the soul. The cracked has a tendency to bleed every now and then and because of the cracked eye his perspective is warped. What caused the cracked eye is something Hurt doesn't want to talk about or explain.

Name: Ying & Yang

Nickname: Unity

Likes: Listening to NoCopyrightSounds (NCS) and other types of beat music. Wearing a black hoodie.

Bio: Yang has a deep understanding for human behavior and human emotions but doesn't understand his own. When he's around I just have a strong emotion of movement and color. Yang is very powerful, he can alter my reality. He helps me see different perspectives. Yang also has a different side called Ying. Yang is calm, collective and uses his ability to make my day brighter. Ying is a bit more unstable, he changes my reality in order to escape it. Ying doesn't always show up but when he does it's often from stress and a sense of lack of control. Unlike Yang, Ying doesn't see color. He only sees static black and white. This static helps calm my mind by focusing on less. Ying is also chaotic and makes me go through healthy mental breakdowns. Though Ying's mind is also disturbing compared to Yang's. Ying doesn't mind listening to twisted music and watching gorey movies.

Name: Smart Alec

Nickname: Yukio

Likes: Listening to lo-fi and reading music. Reading fiction books. Peace and quiet whenever possible.

Bio: Alec is the first persona to be around, he only focuses on school and is always planning ahead. He rarely makes me forget to do HW. Alec would often scare me into doing HW fast and early. Though it pays off. He loves reading especially the Wings of Fire series. The combination of music and reading helps keep him immersed into the world. He's often very technical and often likes to argue with science. He's all about the facts and research, he sees educating one's self is important especially with the type of world he's in this time around. He's hardworking and studying whenever it's necessary. He use to push me to my limits but is now more lenient and doesn't make me overdo it when it comes to studying. He's not really too comfortable in crowds and prefers to be with a small group or being alone. He doesn't mind a challenge, in fact he actually welcomes it. Alec doesn't see any reason for emotions and he lacks a lot of emotion himself. Although he doesn't see it as bad he does see it as a burden, especially if when I'm upset but there's a task to be done. Though he encourages me to do said task, like he always says: Once you hit rock bottom, the only way now is up.

Name: Creativity

Nickname: Twilight

Likes: Listening to Alan Walker, Zedd and any upbeat music, but mostly music in general. Drawing and painting, especially adding a new drawings to my bedroom walls. Playing videogames, mostly JRPGs. Wearing hoodies and comfortable clothes.

Bio: Creativity likes to turn Yang's vision of colors into meaning. He often translates those colors into drawings. The same goes when he listens to music. When he's around he always compeles me to draw even if it's late. He gives me a drive to continue drawing. He also looks out for my wellbeing by helping me balance between downtime and chores. Creativity is also the one who gave the other personas nicknames. He's mostly shy but that shyness doesn't stay around when he's playing competitively. He won't hesitate to pick up a controller when it comes to games such as Smash Bros. Playing games helps with the ongoing stresses in life but also helps spark new ideas. Creativity also likes to world building and create new characters for his world building. He's always positive and helps me through my hard times by drawing vent art. Creativity is a Walker fan himself, if you're curious he's Walker #37804.

Name: Lust

Nickname: Blaze

Likes: Listening to Ke$ha, Avril Lavigne, Green Day and any type of party music. Think about sex as a means to relieve anger, frustration or irritation. Wearing multiple necklaces and high tops.

Bio: Lust didn't always have free will especially early on. He was always fueled by rage, hate and anger. He often protected me by being cold and learning to fight back. He was present in my early years of starting Elementary school as a way to keep a distance from people who would try to hurt me. Though because of his lack of free will he would often make me feel angry and ready to clock anything even if it was just bothering me. The lack of freewill came from Beast. In fact Beast and Lust use to be one. With Beast fueling his anger with hurtful words. It wasn't until Ying and Yang helped them be their own person that Lust started to control his anger. Now he just likes to display himself as someone against authority when he believes something is wrong. And he uses that anger as a passion to participate in marches and protests. Though Lust hasn't completely shed influence from Beast. He possesses the ability to become a dragon. He can do this at will but not when he's angry. The angrier Lust gets the more dragon like he becomes. Only when he gets enraged does Lust become a full dragon. Lust is very protective, not just protective of me but also of my friends. He cares about other people and displays it as being protective. If anyone messes with my friends, Lust won't hesitate to get even. He's also very raw when it comes to intercourse and sees it as nothing more than human nature and not something to be ashamed about. Though he also holds consent to a high standard. If we're out he'll make sure me or someone there doesn't end up getting taken advantage of or be in a dangerous situation. Intercourse is very secrete to him and not something someone should have the ability to abuse.

#digital art #personas #charcter art #charcterdesign #persona drawing #digital illustration

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ceffythesquirrel · 5 years

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Post Apocalyptic Sander's Sides AU

Hello! This is inspired off of @sidespart amazing art of Logan and Robot!Roman. Check notes for navigation (Poor princey.) I'm sure @sidespart had a completely different idea when they were creating that art piece, so this is just my take. If they ever do anything more with that universe, just know that this is completely separate and...yeah. XD

Warnings: Lots of death mention (nothing graphic), minor character death, explosions, terrorist attacks, let me know if theres anything else!

Roman - Backstory

M29-Ro-man was created a couple years before the apocalypse by a robotics genius. The dude just took a bunch of parts from the scrap yard, cleaned them up, put him together, and programmed him to be Roman.

He was just sitting in his garage lifeless for the longest time because he was one of the few robots with emotions that existed and the creator didn't really want him stolen or known about yet. Also he was solar powered and any contact with the sun would bring him to life.

Decided to give him as a gift to a friend/Broadway star who needed a personal companion to rehearse lines with on a daily basis. Thus the robotics genius programmed Roman with everything a robot should probably not be programmed with. He had emotions, the ability to learn and gather information, and the ability to adapt through different situations and circumstances.

When the Broadway star received Roman he acted like a human with a metallic body and an off switch. He couldnt physically feel since he had no skin. The creator also mentioned to the Broadway star that he was a little too boisterous and wasnt sure how to fix it, but once meeting Roman, he didnt mind at all.

Roman instantly took to the theatre atmosphere. He was told what to do, how to help his human companion, and practice with him.

When Roman was not on duty, he was constantly watching Broadway show after Broadway show, acting them out on his own. He would always study the one his human was performing in to the T so he could help him get his lines accurate.

So they were both pretty good friends. Roman had never experienced that robots under humans rascism until way later. He experienced it when he got fitted for a prince outfit, because the Broadway star thought he'd like it, (which Roman very much did.)

Roman can also sword fight he found out. Not because he taught himself, but part of a fencing bot's mainframe was welded inside of him.

Roman believes all other robots are stupid after seeing none that act like him. He knew he was special and had a tendency to act like it.

It all changed when the first terrorist attack of WWIII happened. Of course it happened at Broadway. There was a bombing causing most of the building to collapse.

Lots of people died including his human Broadway star friend. But, Roman would never know what had happened to him. When the bomb exploded, the roof of the room he was in collapsed and debris switched Roman off rendering him useless for a couple of hours.

This is where he meets Logan.

Logan - Backstory

He was an average kid with an average family. He had no siblings and was often left to his own devices. Its not that he didn't try to make friends, its just he wasn't that good with social cues. Some say he may have been autistic, but no one knows for certain.

He has always loved robots growing up, and wanted to be someone who worked with robots. Unfortunately, the robot industry was already deep into the golden age and it was a very competitive field.

Giving up on that dream, he went with chemical engineering instead. He still had a heart for robots though, and would always watch them work whenever he could.

He was under the belief that robots should stay machines and not advance into anything else. So when he saw the world's first emotion robot he voted and protested against it with every fibre of his being.

He read the book "I am, Robot" (book about Robots taking over the world) so it makes sense why he didn't like the idea.

He graduated as valedictorian of his class and went on to become a theoretical chemist. Not what he had planned to do, but it was interesting nevertheless.

He was in a research group of 11 other scientists who were working to develop the world's first force field. It was when they succeeded that it all went to hell.

They were presenting their work at the world fair in New York when the bombing on broadway happened. It was utter chaos as other attacks ripped through the city and people ran for their lives.

Logan acted on impulse rushing people to safety while staying a safe distance with his colleagues, until an explosion split them apart.

Because one of the scientists had a feeling this was going to happen she made the other 11 make a plan b so their work wouldn't be stolen. Of the twelve, six split up the force field plans.

Logan was one of those six and was running with the three hard drives that contained all the equations for it. In his lab coat mind you, that he forgot would make him a target. So he was running from chopper fire and was able to hide behind a building and dive under rubble.

He had no idea where anyone was or if anyone was still alive since it seemed WI-Fi and internet was down all across the world. Even television was having problems.

He was shaking with fear as chaos continued to reign outside so he went further deep into the rubble to seek some sort of shelter if he could and wait out the storm.

He took a wrong step and fell a story into the exact room Roman was in.

He saw the unique looking robot, covered in debris and was more scared of it than anything. Maybe it was another trap or a bomb, but after it didnt move for awhile Logan's curiousity got the better of him and moved it out from under the pile and get a better look at it.

It was dressed like a prince, and had a sword. Some robot.

When Logan switched it on his life changed.

Hardship to Friendship

Basically the exchange went like this: Roman sprung to action with his sword. Logan shrieked and fell over from surprise. He was already scared of what was going on outside and this did not help. Roman called out Logan on his nerdy appearance and his so-called want to steal an amazing robot like him. "Over my dead body Isaac Snoopin'!" And Logan is just too terrified for any of this so he just faints.

Roman is more confused than anything, but the impact of a bomb over head tells him something is definitely wrong. His eyes widen as he remembers his human friend and is about to go find him, when the conscious he had developed told him he shouldn't leave the scientist behind no matter how much he wanted to. Especially if he was an enemy, and in sword fighting you never take your eyes off your enemy.

So he picked up Logan like a rag doll and began searching through the ruined structure for the stage.

It was a tragic scene when he got there however. No one was alive and he couldn't tell anyone apart it was that bad. Another bomb could be heard hitting the ground nearby. Roman had never felt this amount of sorrow before so he just kind of sat on the ground rocking with his knees to his chest with sadness not exactly sure how to process the emotion, since he couldn't cry.

Logan came around about an hour later and Roman was still repeatedly doing the same movements. When the prince-robot saw Logan begin to wake up he drew his sword at him.

"YOU DID THIS!" "Wh-what?! Me!?"

"Who else could have accomplished this feat but a scientist?! You murderer!" Logan began trying to explain that he's just one person and could never pull off something this massive.

As they argued, the ceiling of the room they were in began to collapse and they dove for cover in the nick of time.

Just cue the whole scene where they are running together for their lives through the crumbling hallways somewhat screaming, somewhat Roman yelling at Logan, and somewhat Logan getting frustrated at this almost human who is blaming him for the ruining of his theatre and death of his beloved friend. Logan was in the same predicament since he didnt know if anyone he knew was alive.

Logan does take it too far when he says "This is why your kind should never have emotions!"

Roman had a temper so he wasn't thinking when he took his sword and swiped it across Logan's face. Cue Roman realizing he is capable of hurting others and shrinking back. This is not the robot he wanted to be.

"I'm sorry. That was uncalled for." Logan was more suprised that the sword had only nicked him in the cheek and not got him in the throat or anything.

The place they are in begins to collapse right after that too and Logan shoves Roman out of the way with a "You're forgiven!" when the floor begins to crumble underneath them.

The rest of it is just them talking/ introducing themselves with just a little more civility and trying to find a way out of the building. They finally do, but it caves in. Roman helps push with Logan and finds out he is soooooo much stronger than a regular human. He clears the way so easily that Logan's actually jealous of the robot.

So now they are running through the city above ground away from the commotion and start their journey as fugitives in an apocalyptic world. Logan doesn't know why Roman is sticking with him and frankly Roman doesn't either, but the robot has no other place to go. Also Logan is a scientist and Roman is still suspicious that he wants to take him apart and study him. Which isn't completely wrong but Logan is more preoccupied with running for his life right now.

They first run to Logan's apartment a couple blocks down while the chaos is still happening around them. He grabs items from his house like he's evacuating and changes from his lab coat into more casual clothes, still keeping the hard drives with him.

Logan and Roman barely escape from the place before a bomb destroys the complex behind them. Logan gets tired quickly as they run through the traffic, since he didnt really work out. So Roman just picks him and his bags up with ease and sprints off with the speed of two cheetahs combined.

That was the story of how the two unlikely friends met. Logan eventually tries to contact his other colleagues only to find out that only three of them were left, not including himself. Each of them held a piece to the force field, but the blueprints of the actual structure were lost somewhere. Roman and Logan had parted ways for a little while so Logan could go meet up with the other scientists, but found out it was a trap just to get the three hard drives he had. His other colleagues were dead when he got there.

Roman had went to find his orginal creator, but there was no sign of him anywhere. So he returned to Logan and busted him out of the trap and they went on the run again.

From there on, the duo became inseparable even if they did seem like they were at odds half the time. They were soon joined by others who found sanctity and friendship within their tribe of misfits.

Emile Picani: The Ex Vice President of the fallen United States that everyone loved more than the actual president. He had signed a secret deal with the illuminati but when New York got attacked he said "Screw it" and ran.

Virgil: A 21-year-old boy with unexplainable psychic powers the government had locked up for experimentation. He's a techie and is good at technology and hacking stuff.

Patton: An alien disguised as a human who might have accidently contributed to Virgil's psychic powers. He loves everything about Earth, except the violence and bad stuff.

Remy: A defective clone who knew he was more than just a science experiment.

Nathaniel: An ex-security officer who just wants to survive the apocalypse and the people he's with sure seem to know what they are doing.

Thomas: An old friend of Logan's with the safe house they all camp out at sometimes. He is the one with all the money and supplies they need to stock up on.

There is so much more I could do for this AU. If you want me to do Patton and Virgil's meeting or backstories let me know. I'm sorry this got so long. I just love this AU now. Again credit to the artist who made that amazing piece sidespart and hope you all enjoy!

#logan sanders #roman sanders #sanders sides #thomas sanders #platonic logince #thatsthat24 #long post #tw death #tw lots of death #terrorist attacks #explosions #no deceit #for right now at least #we shall see

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emma-nation · 6 years

Text

In My Veins - KamilahxMC Fanfiction (Chapter 2)

Summary: Inspired by Lovestruck’s “Havenfall is For Lovers” (Antonio). Amy is a regular, small-town girl looking for her first job in New York City. When she gets kidnapped by the powerful CEO, Kamilah Sayeed, she’ll have to discover her true goals… before it’s too late.

Genre: Romance

Rating: T

Notes: - English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes - This fanfic is slightly inspired by Lovestruck’s story Havenfall Is For Lovers - Antonio, but I intend to make it more interesting and steamier too :P

- I’m sorry for taking so long to update this fic, I had been focused on For You but now it’s ending I’ll be updating it regulary. You can re-read Chapter 1 here.

- Minor changes: I’ve resized the cover and changed the rating to T. There was no reason to be classified as M.

- I hope you enjoy it, your likes and reviews are always appreciated.

Amy opened her eyes. Slowly. Hoping she'd wake up in her own bedroom. The image that started to form in her vision was another. It wasn't a nightmare, after all. She was still trapped in Kamilah Sayeed's house.

Kamilah Sayeed. The gorgeous and rich CEO who planned to kill her and drink her blood. Because she's a vampire.

Amy could do nothing but laugh. Even if she managed to find a way to contact the authorities, who would believe her?

Her stomach started to growl. Her kidnapper hadn't served any food yet since her arrival. She narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. Two could play that game. She wouldn't just give up on her life. Not before making Kamilah's life a living hell.

"Hey," she yelled, right behind the door. "I'm starving here! Open this door!"

She threw punches and kicks at the door. She cried. She shouted insults. Nothing. From the other side, only silence.

She sat on the bed, sighing in frustration. A couple of minutes later, Kamilah furiously opened the door.

"What's your problem?" She asked. "I was in the middle of an important phonecall!"

"What is my problem?" Amy snarled. "My problem is that you locked me in this room to starve to death."

"The door was unlocked. You could've left anytime you wanted."

Amy felt her cheeks blushing. Indeed, she never actually attempted to open the door.

"But... I saw as you locked it last night."

"Of course, you were acting like an enraged animal."

Amy took a deep breath. She need to control herself. If Kamilah locked the door again, she wouldn't be able to explore the rest of the house. Where she could possibly find a phone.

"Let's go," Kamilah showed the way. "Breakfast is served."

Amy followed her to the dinning room. An enormous table with the most diverse food was served.

"I didn't know what you liked so, I ordered all the available options."

"This is so gentle of you," Amy ironized.

She took a sit around the table. Filling a plate with eggs, bacon, sausage and waffles.

“I cannot fathom how your kind survived this long.”

Kamilah was sitting in front of her, eating yogurt and some fruits. Then, she grabbed the newspaper and started reading in silence.

Amy stared in disbelief. How could she act so normally when she kidnapped a person she intended to kill?

"Funny," she provoked. "I thought your kind needed another kind of breakfast to thrive."

"Blood, you mean," Kamilah patiently closed the newspaper. "We only need a small amount daily, to keep our bloodlust under control."

"Then why have you been killing so many people lately, huh? Is it your concept of fun?"

"I haven't killed a single mortal in centuries."

Amy let out a sadistic laugh.

"Right..." She shook her head. "Then what's the deal with me?"

"You're special," Kamilah took a sip of her coffee.

"And what's make me special? Really, I'm only a small-town girl. I don't even have a job yet."

"Your blood makes you special."

“Okay, then my blood is like one of those rare expensive wines you have there in your rack,” Amy pointed to another corner of the room.

For a second, she could swear Kamilah’s lips would turn into a smile, but she hid it. Very well.

When they finished eating, Kamilah announced she was going back to her office. She had some papers to sign.

"I suppose you'll lock me in the bedroom again," Amy said.

"No, darling," Kamilah shrugged. "You're free to do whatever you want. As long as you don't leave the house, of course."

Amy's face lightened in hope. She spent the rest of the morning mapping the mansion. Inspecting every corner in search of alternatives to escape, or at least a phone. Her expectations were frustrated when she realized the only avaliable phone was in Kamilah's office.

Lying on the couch, she watched the news. Another animal attack. At least she knew Kamilah was telling the truth this time. She spent the night busy... Kidnapping her.

"Amy?" Kamilah called. "Would you come to my office, please?"

Amy gulped, was she ready to drink her blood? Nervously, she sat on the chair in front of her desk.

"So, will you finally do it?"

"No," Kamilah approached her, with a syringe in hands. "First, I need to draw a blood sample to confirm you have what I need."

"No," Amy protested. "I refused to sign your contract. You won't touch a single drip of my blood."

Kamilah sighed, as if she already expected that reaction. She grabbed something inside her drawer. Amy recognized her cellphone.

"Lily has been calling you the whole morning," Kamilah told.

"Of course, she's worried about me."

"One phonecall," Kamilah extended the phone in Amy's direction. When she was about to touch it, she retreated. "In trade for a blood sample."

Reluctantly, Amy agreed. It was her only chance. Of course Kamilah was going to monitor the call, but she could give Lily the smallest sign. She knew her best friend would be able to notice the weirdness in her voice.

Kamilah inserted the needle in her arm's vein. Her touch was soft, careful... There was no pain. Instead, a good electric sensation ran from Amy's arm, spreading to her entire body. Almost causing her pleasure.

"What the fuck, Amy?" She thought. "What the actual fuck... She's cold-blooded monster. How can you even feel like this? Of course, she compelled you. She’s trying to put you under her sadistic spell!"

"Are you alright?" Kamilah's voice brought her back to reality.

"Uhhh yes," Amy felt her cheeks burning a little bit. "Now give me my phone as you promised."

Before Kamilah handed her the cellphone, her face acquired a threatening expression.

"Don't you even dare to try anything, do you understand? You wouldn't want to put Lily's life in danger... Right?"

Amy nodded, grabbing the phone violently from her hand. Kamilah positioned herself in front of her, hearing every part of the conversation.

"Lil?" Amy felt a notch in her throat, controlling herself to not cry. "That's me."

"Jeez, Amy. I was starting to get worried."

"I'm sorry I didn't go home last night... something happened."

"What? Are you in trouble?"

Lily's words alarmed Kamilah, who made the motion of taking the phone from Amy's hand.

"No... Actually, it's something good," she lied. "I got the job."

"Really? And where are you?"

"A-At Kamilah's house. It's uhhh... A special training to... prepare me for the position."

Lily paused for a few seconds.

"Amy, there is something else going on! You're acting strange."

"Fix it," Kamilah muttered, showing the tips of her fangs.

"Me, Lil? Of course not! I'm just tired, I worked a lot last night."

Suddenly, Amy heard Lily gasping at the other side of the line.

"Oh my god," she shouted. "I can totally see what's happening! Tell me, she's some kind of Christian Grey, isn't? It explains that mysterious attitude."

"Lily, no..."

"You only act this weird when you're into someone."

Kamilah was impatient, pacing around her office with a disturbed look on her face.

"Okay, Lily. There's something between us! But it's not as you think. Anyways, I need to go now. Kamilah needs me."

"Calling her by the first name already. You go, girl! Enjoy your time with her, but don't forget to fill me in on details when you have time."

"Oh... Of course. Bye."

When she hung up, Kamilah gave her a furious gaze. She grabbed her phone and smashed it with one hand.

"Hey! That was my phone," Amy yelled. "Why did you do that? I followed your orders."

"No, you didn't," Kamilah rebuked. "You demonstrated tension in your voice, you insinuated we could be having an affair... and who the hell is Christian? Is it some kind of code?"

"Oh, you're not into modern literature."

"Not really, rare are the books from this generation that I..."

Amy handed her a piece of paper.

"Read it, it may help you to relieve your tensions."

Kamilah looked at her intrigued.

Amy spent the rest of the day lying on Kamilah's office couch, asking the most diverse questions about vampirism.

"This heavy curtains," she pointed. "Does it mean you can't walk in the sunlight?'

"Correct," Kamilah replied, eyes still focused on a pile of papers.

"If I open the curtains, will you sparkle or will you turn into ashes?"

Kamilah rolled her eyes in annoyance.

"Why don't you test?"

Amy opened the curtains. As the sunlight penetrated the room, Kamilah didn't show any reaction. After a couple of minutes though, she showed signs of pain and discomfort.

"Close it," she demanded.

Amy obeyed. At least now she knew one of Kamilah's weaknesses. She could use it as advantage in the future.

"How long can you take it?" Amy wanted to know.

"One hour and half."

"Any other aversions? Like garlic, crucifixes..."

"No, it's a myth. And before you ask, I don't sleep in a coffin."

Amy insisted on her plan. So far, Kamilah answered all her questions patiently.

"I'm going to take a shower," she announced. "I’ll need some clothes, you know."

"We can provide it," Kamilah said. "Tonight you can wear some of my clothes.”

Amy nodded, coming back to her bedroom. She wasn't successful on her mission. As long as Kamilah had control over the situation, she wouldn't get affected. Amy needed an opportunity where she'd be vulnerable, an occasion where Kamilah could not control... And it seemed like luck was on her side. Before dinner, Kamilah was on a heated argument over the phone.

"Amy, we need to talk," she spoke when they sat down to eat. "On Friday, I’ll need to attend this event and I have no other choice... I'm taking you with me."

Next Chapter: What kind of trouble Amy can cause when Kamilah takes her to a public event? Coming Soon!

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #choices fanfiction

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