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lostinlewis · 1 year

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Professional ~ Part Two

Rating: M

Words: 11234

The heat that radiated off of his body stifled you with its intensity, his clammy skin stuck to yours as he held onto you knowing he was a few strokes away from you vanishing from under him, and thus vanishing from his life too.

Every stroke was placed in a position to ensure you would remember him fondly a few days from now, every thrust was built with the want to both impress and to make thinking straight something you no longer could do; he was annoyingly good at it.

Your nails dug into his back and you could feel the difference in just the way his skin didn’t seem to welcome you quite the same. No longer did your fingertips running across his broad back feel like they belonged there, no longer did it feel natural to have this man on top of you, inside of you. It felt foreign, it felt strange, it felt wrong...so very wrong, yet the pleasure was almost addictive, it was the perfect way to numb any and all thoughts that didn’t fill your body with serotonin and that was all you needed right now, not him but also him.

“Leaving so soon? We barely even got started…”

There was no respect shown to this man whilst you fixed yourself up to leave, you didn't bother granting him to courtesy of turning to face him as he spoke to you, instead you used the reflection of the mirror at the end of the bed to do just that, careful to not spare a second longer of your time unless you absolutely had to.

“I think that was more than enough for me, thanks. It was great meeting you though, Ja…Jas…J…”

His arrogance soon turned into a scowl of disgust, as if he couldn’t fathom a world in which a woman he had just given fifteen minutes of his best work to, wouldn’t remember his name.

“James…”

His name was insignificant when you met him that night in the bar and it is still insignificant now, his name was simply a by-product of what use he had to you that night, and that use was paralysing the anxiety of missing him, he had no further use.

“It was great meeting you, James. See you around.”

You had hoped you were fast enough when exiting the room that he wouldn’t have time to make it over to you but you were wrong, as soon as you left the threshold he appeared at the door as if expecting some kind of farewell kiss or worse still, for you to change your mind.

“Was it something I said? I thought we were getting along great…”

You let your silence hold the moment briefly until you took pity on the really quite handsome man and the gutted look on his face, reaching up to cup his cheek, stroking it softly with your thumb.

“We were, don’t take this personally, I just don’t do commitment sweetie.”

Your truth felt like an explosion in the hallway of the hotel as you left him, not bothering to turn back even though you could feel the intensity of his eyes gazing into your back as you walked.

That was the thing about the truth though, no matter how much a lie could rip you apart from the inside, nothing quite gutted someone like the truth. There was no hiding from and, there was no denying the truth, you knew that more than most.

You were opposed to any and all forms of commitment and you always would be, James was just the unlucky man this week who thought he could change that truth, foolishly. There has only ever been one man who has made you consider a change of stance, but that man also cemented your correctness in never settling down, and for that you would be forever grateful to Lewis.

‘Fine.’ was your go to line when anyone asked how you were, not happy, not sad, just fine. Fine was safe, fine was entirely easier to cope with than any other emotion, fine was your preferred state of mind.

Most of the time you were telling the truth, you were fine now for the most part, you had made it to the stage of grief of a relationship in which you only thought of the other party every once in a while, no longer were you consumed by thoughts of him all day and night, so for the most part ‘Fine’ wasn’t a lie, until it was.

A lot of the time you allowed yourself to be distracted by friends, work, life in general but sometimes you could do nothing to avoid what was an intense wave of sadness that washed over you. You called it your Lewis cloud, it hung heavy over your head as you pondered all of what could have been had anything at all been different that day in Budapest, but you knew deep down that there was nothing at all you could do now, Lewis did what he was perfectly entitled to do and you left him there to do it, nothing could rewrite your history now, nothing could change the fact that what you had - and what that was, you weren’t entirely certain of - was in the past.

Had a critically acclaimed romance novelist or the writers of Love Actually themselves written your life story, Lewis would have barrelled through the airport as you went through security, shouting his declaration of love for you across the crowded scene as if it was his last and only chance to speak to you.

Life wasn’t at all like a movie or a book though, and what you had experienced together wasn’t the romance of the century it was just great sex, that’s all it was and subsequently, all it ever would be, you had insisted on it after all.

In a modern fairytale, one set in real time in a world where communication was primarily made through messages sent on various apps, with the occasional phone call thrown in too, it really shouldn’t have surprised you that as you made your way to the departure lounge you received a message from your fellow protagonist in the story.

You debated ignoring it, you wondered if you would be more at peace having put your phone on aeroplane mode already, but ultimately curiosity won, as it always did.

‘Please don’t leave without speaking to me.’

It was a simple message, you had almost wanted more from him but that wouldn’t have mattered anyway, nothing would have changed your mind, not before you had witnessed him replacing you before you had even left the country, and certainly not after you had.

If the previous night's situation hadn't happened at all you still would have been boarding your flight at 10am that Monday morning so his asking you not to leave was his own desperation talking, rather than an attempt at making you stay.

You wondered how much of his reaching out to you was guilt at having been caught rather than consideration for your feelings, what good could a conversation really do anyway? Especially when you had absolutely nothing you wanted to say to him.

‘There’s nothing to talk about, Lewis. It was just sex and like you said, Hungary was the beginning of the countdown for the end…it’s just a shame it was also when the time run out for us too.’

He must have sensed your location by the speed in which he read your message and replied, his desperation was shining through and he was not even trying to hide it.

‘It’s only the end if you let it be. Do you want it to end?’

No. Absolutely not. Not even one little part of you wanted it to be the end but it had to be, he had chosen that for you both, he had taken away your choice in the matter and so it was what it was; The End.

‘Goodbye, Lewis.’

It was your fault, you knew this, yet it didn’t lessen the sting of the sudden yet inevitable end. You had told him countless times, you had shown him with your actions by always holding him at an arms length until you wanted more from him, that all he was to you was just sex…incredible, life altering, mind blowing sex.

That would have been fine, you probably could have dealt with losing him had you actually meant it. Sure, you meant it to a certain extent but if you were being completely truthful your insistence came from a place more of having to convince yourself than it ever had come from your wanting to convince him.

If you really wanted nothing more from Lewis than sex, why did you feel so betrayed by him? What right did you have to feel cheated by the man you insisted knew he was nothing but a casual fling to you? Emotions do not account for logic, he technically had done nothing wrong yet your feelings were hurt all the same.

Pain caused by a fire you set didn’t make the burns hurt any less, in fact you were fairly certain the sting was harsher. You had dealt with having your heart broken by someone else before and survived, breaking your own heart though…that was something you were not sure how to treat.

Time is the best remedy for a broken heart, apparently. That’s what your best friend liked to remind you constantly even though you insist, and have been insisting, you do not have a broken heart, you are not and have not been in mourning for a love lost, and you certainly have no one to get over with the passage of time. One of those sentences was true, partially.

Instinctively she knew that you were pinning, she knew that although you would never admit to losing someone you cared for you, you were and you had, and so she did everything in her power to help you heal. What she couldn’t do, what she had no ability to do because she didn’t even know you did it, was stop you from doom scrolling through the many messages that had gone unanswered from Lewis to you over the past six months.

‘Talk to me, please.’

‘Baby, I miss you.’

‘I haven’t forgotten about you.’

It was the last one that really played on your mind. It arrived in the middle of a workday, it was sent to you unprovoked and out of the blue after almost a month of no contact. There were a lot of things you could fault Lewis for, but lack of trying with you was not one of them.

The messages were always simple, few words but that was all he needed to get across the message of his remorse, of his regret for exactly how this turned out. You never replied, you had nothing to say, there was nothing to repair in your eyes, you were both just in a situation that had run its course, and now you both had to deal with the conclusion in your own ways.

You never blocked him though, you never cut the passage of contact with him, and you were never quite sure why, but you didn’t and you wouldn’t.

It was on one of your nightly doom scrolls through everything ‘Lewis’ online that a notification at the top of your screen distracted you. It was a Hinge message from a guy you had connected with earlier in the day. His first line was simple and his picture was passable, but it was the fact that you finally felt done that made you reply.

You were done pinning, you were done feeling lost without Lewis, you had finally reached the acceptance stage of the grief process and it was what it was, and what it was was a short period of time with the greatest sex you had, so far. You were ready to see what the rest of the population of men had to offer you, surely there had to be someone out there that could live up to Lewis?

Every fibre of your being hoped there was.

Usually you dismissed emails from your manager when they arrived after working hours, but this one drew your attention from the very first line, it was impossible for it to not.

‘Urgent: Client exit imminent.’

It was rare the company lost clients to competitors, it was even rarer that you lost them, your boss always referred to you as the glue, she knew that without you being there, a lot of the clients would leave, or would have never signed a contract in the first place.

You were intrigued, amused even, to see which client it was that was threatening to break contract for another company, it was only when your scrolling drew you to the next paragraph that your amusement quickly turned to horror.

‘Informal meeting required with Sir Lewis Hamilton, he will be in the city for only one night so please make contact urgently. We cannot lose him, offer him whatever he needs to stay on as an ambassador. Work your magic.’

Fuck. Shit. Of all the people it had to be him didn’t it?

You considered replying to your boss, feigning sickness or inability to meet with the one man you had been doing your best to ignore for months now but you also knew your boss would never believe you. This was it, you had to make contact with Lewis, there was no getting out of this one.

It was a funny thing trying to determine the best place to be as you made contact with him. The sofa was far too casual, your bedroom felt too intimate, instead you settled on standing next to your kitchen counter, one hand on the marble top to support your already nervous self whilst you shook with anxiety as your thumb found his name in your phone.

One ring. Two rings. It was on the third ring you almost chickened out and hung up, deciding sending him a message might be easier to cope with initially, but before the fourth ring even came around it was already too late.

“Hello you.”

Fuck, it was him. Of course it was him, it was his number you called, but yet still, his voice being on the other end of the phone caught you by surprise.

“Hi Lewis, sorry to call so late, although I don’t know what time it is where you are right now-“

“It’s late here too, but it’s fine. I’m happy to hear from you.”

It probably would have been easier for you had he immediately jumped on wanting to woo you, but instead he kept it casual, he let the conversation flow and so he left it to you to lead the direction it took.

“I’m calling about work actually, I’ve had notification that you’re thinking of dropping the company. Why is that?”

It was faint but you heard it, the little sigh of frustration at the call not being social as Lewis hoped and instead you only reaching out to him through sheer necessity.

“Let’s not do this over the phone, when can we meet? We can grab dinner or something.”

“I’m free tonight…”

You heard his little laugh of continued frustration as you offered a solution he wanted with the most difficult of all time frames.

“Babe, I’m fast but I’m not fly across an ocean in an hour fast…how about tomorrow night? Know anywhere private in the city? I don’t want the world to know our business.”

Lewis really left you no choice at all in the matter, it was a city, there was no where you wouldn’t be seen or heard, yet the solution left your lips without even thinking of the consequences.

“Why don’t you come over to mine? I will cook.”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Don’t you need my address, Lewis?”

“No, I still remember where I dropped you off.”

Double fuck. How could you be so stupid to not only agree to dinner with him but to also agree to have him in your home? There was no amount of self love that would rid your desire for him the moment you saw him. You were in trouble, big trouble.

Mother Nature had your back. It was rare that she did, it was rare that she did anything but inconvenience you with her monthly show of your still working reproductive system, but this time you were thankful for your period.

There wasn’t much else that would have given you the strength to not fuck him, but she provided that in the form of some of the worst cramps you had ever experienced and a flow so heavy you were unsure you would be able to contain it enough to host dinner that night.

It didn’t matter that you were not fucking him that night, that did not stop you from ensuring you looked your absolute best. Temptation was at its highest heights when the subject was unobtainable, a little squirming for a love lost never hurt a man before and it certainly wouldn’t hurt the man who had the pick of anyone he wanted.

You wanted, and you needed, Lewis to want you that night. There was no amount of self confidence that told you he would still want you six months later, but you were determined to make sure he did.

The sound of his car door shutting signalled his arrival. You were already standing by the front door, unable to do anything but pace the hallway with nerves. You closed your eyes and you held your hand over your stomach, you felt sick with nerves and the cramps did not help one bit. It was only when he rang the doorbell that you opened your eyes again, taking a deep breath as you readied yourself best you could to face him.

Lewis was there, Lewis was at your house and Lewis was still very much Lewis. Immaculate dress sense, beautifully braided hair and that smile, the smile that sold you the world with one little gesture, the smile that both made you shake with nerves and calmed you like the ocean. Lewis was there.

Seven seconds was about the limit for a hug to remain friendly, before it crept into dangerous waters of a little more than that. Right at this moment, with your arm wrapped around his back, careful to not give him a full embrace, you had hit close to ten and yet neither one of you stopped it.

Lewis was more generous with his affection, he wasn’t afraid to hold you in your entirety, both arms wrapped tight around you as he nuzzled his nose against your neck like he was drawn to your warmth.

Twelve seconds. You could feel his heartbeat against your own, you wondered who was winning the battle for the most rapid pace, you imagined it was probably you as it felt close to bursting out of your chest.

At fifteen seconds you began to pull away, he didn’t let go though, he simply moved his hands to your waist as he looked at you for the first time since he arrived. For the first time in months.

“You.”

There was so much weight behind that small word, so much intent when used, yet he didn’t elaborate, he didn’t need to, you could feel the softness that was within its make up.

“I’ve missed you, a lot.”

It was that sentence that woke you, it was that sentence that brought you back down to earth with such a force that even being held by such strong hands couldn’t stop the impact. This was wrong, this was so wrong.

“Through here, Lewis. We have lots to talk about tonight…”

You twirled out of his embrace, moving towards the kitchen in which you had spent the best part of two hours cooking that evening.

Lewis let his hand linger on you for as long as it could, only pulling away once even the very tips of his fingers could no longer feel you.

“Yes, we do.”

You turned to him at the doorway, your words halting in your throat as you noticed the little bite of his lip as his gaze lazily left your ass.

“Business only, Lewis. This is a professional meeting, remember.”

It was easy to avoid him in your kitchen, with him sitting at the table waiting for you, you could busy your eyes away from him whilst serving the food, until you were sitting directly opposite him, that was.

“So…”

It hadn’t gone unnoticed that even after ten minutes of the food being in front of him, he hadn’t touched it, instead he danced his fork around the plate until he braved speaking to you.

“Why are you breaking your contract?”

You didn’t hesitate to bring up the reason he was even in your house, you were not going to waste time with small talk, that moment had long past between you both, this was a strictly professional relationship now, a professional relationship that was fast drawing to a close and you would not allow it to be anything else, you couldn’t do that to yourself again.

“Straight to business huh?”

“There’s no need to beat around the bush, you’re here for a reason.”

Lewis looked at you with the fork of food paused at his lips, his eyes scrunched a little in a look of what could be mistaken for confusion or maybe despair, either way you were not going to run the current conversation off course just to spare his feelings.

“What if there isn’t a reason? What if I just want a change of look?”

You mimicked his earlier movements with your own, but this time you paused the glass at your lips as you weighed up how to tackle his frustrating response. He was giving you nothing to work with, and you could tell that was done on purpose.

“Have we not met your expectations? Is there anything we, or I, can do to make it work better for your needs?”

Lewis smirked at you as he chewed rather elegantly on the food you had prepared for him. It was incredibly annoying that he was taking his time with everything, if it was up to you this meeting would be over quickly with his commitment to your brand firmly in place, but there was nothing you could do when your opponent was Lewis, he wouldn’t allow you to have full control, ever.

“You were always very good at catering to my needs, I certainly do not have complaints in that department...”

For a second, maybe even half a second, he had you lost in thought of the many ways you had, and he had too, catered perfectly to the others' needs in your personal time together.

“…I have some needs that could use your tender touch tonight.”

You could always leave it to Lewis to completely break the spell that he had lulled you into with cute memories of lust, all he had to do was misstep once and you would remember exactly what you wanted to portray, and that was Lewis based abstinence.

“Have you finished?”

You asked him the question without looking at him and without waiting for an answer, instead you grabbed his plate regardless of the state of his finishing of his food and quickly moved to the sink to clean up.

“I’m sorry if I misspoke…”

Lewis held the gentlest of touches on your waist as he appeared behind you, ringing apologies in the warmest of tones within his hot breath against your neck.

“…it’s just, I can’t help myself around you.”

You were quick to shake off his touch, not caring that you soaked your dress in the water that dripped from the plate you were cleaning as you fought to rid yourself of his hold before you lost all ability to.

“Well learn to, I haven’t invited you here to end up in bed with you.”

Lewis took the half clean plate from your hand and then the sponge, replacing your stance in front of the sink with his own, with the most annoying of smiles on his face. He felt like he was winning, nothing annoyed you more than someone thinking they had won with you.

“What are you doing?”

You were powerless in the moment but it didn’t stop you fighting to retake the plate like a petulant child, as he held on to clean it equally as petulant.

“Stopping you from having an excuse to not look at me. Now, you invited me here to talk didn’t you? Let’s talk.”

Lewis had finished the washing up within seconds, turning to face you with that same grin on his face. Did he know that you wanted to punch him with the same amount of energy as you wanted to kiss him?

“You’re not being honest with me…”

Your face was already screwed up with annoyance but now even more so as he accused you of lying when that was completely untrue.

“I have not lied to you once, Lewis.”

Both of you held your faces well, his annoying smile and your ever increasing wrinkled face as if the first one to break would lose.

“You invited me here under the pretence of this being a business meeting but we both know you could have arranged this for anywhere in the city, it didn’t have to be your home.”

“You said you wanted somewhere private and I-“

Your sentence was stopped short with his fingers brushing over your cheek, this time you had no fight in you to pull away, instead the thought of him reading you like a book so easily stunned you into shock.

“It didn’t have to be your home, there are plenty of places it could have been but you chose here for a reason didn’t you…”

You hadn’t even noticed him step closer to you, you hadn’t felt the warmth of him until his lips brushed over yours in a kiss built only to tease you.

“…you wanted me in your home, you wanted me here to test yourself, to see if you could still resist me when we’re alone together…”

The tip of his tongue brushed over your lower lip ever so slightly, so softly you couldn’t even be certain he had actually done it.

“…so tell me, how did that work out for you? Still sure you want to keep this professional?”

“Lewis…”

The tone of voice as you purred his name was answer enough, he had read your intentions clearer than you had even realised and he knew, he knew that the only reason he was in your home that night was for you to see if you could resist him. The way your lips worked towards his proved that you couldn’t. You had failed your test, you needed him.

There was no more talking, no more questioning, Lewis lifted you effortlessly onto the counter as he buried his tongue inside your mouth, cherishing every rhythm of your lips as he kissed you, his hands brushing up your thighs.

“Not here, I want to take my time with you…”

As if his words were built purely to bring you back to reality once more, you were thrown out of your hypnotic state and back to the moment with him, the moment in which Mother Nature had assured you would never be able to lose yourself in.

“Wait, no…I can’t…”

Lewis didn’t fight it, he didn’t try to convince you, instead he placed his forehead against yours as he tried to control his breathing once more.

“It’s you. You are the reason I’m breaking the contract.”

You had barely been able to catch your breath when he hit you with that sentence. You didn’t pull your head away, instead you let him rest there a little longer, his hands still planted firmly on your thighs.

“What did I do, Lewis?”

He moved both hands up to cup your cheeks as he lifted his head off yours to look at you.

“You became impossible, sweetie, completely and utterly impossible. I should get going, I don’t want to take up anymore of your time.”

Lewis didn’t wait around for a soft goodbye, a farewell of politeness, instead he left the space between your thighs that he had found himself in and hurried towards the door as if he was late for an appointment.

“Wait…you can’t just say that and leave…”

You hurried after him, catching up to him only as he walked down your pathway.

“Sorry, that was impolite of me…”

He jogged back towards you to plant a kiss on your cheek, his lips hovering against your skin just a little longer, the only sign left that he had an ounce of affection for you.

“What did you mean, Lewis?”

“It’s not your fault, not at all. You’re just impossible and it’s for the best that we no longer have any business dealings. I’ll see you around, sweetie.”

As quickly as he came, Lewis left into the haze of the sunsetting on your street and disappeared for what appeared to be the last time you would ever see him.

Touché, you thought to yourself. The last time you had been the one to disappear and this time it was him. You were even and now it was pretty symbolic in the sense that you had both ended it through choice, there would really be no need to see each other again now. The End.

‘Re: Hamilton exit confirmed.

As suspected, Sir Hamilton has pulled out of his deal with us forfeiting 25 million to cover damages, this will not begin to scratch the surface of what kind of long term loss this will cause. A thorough investigation will be made into the failings to keep him on our books, all parties involved with the contract will be invited for a formal meeting with the CEO so we can ensure this never happens again.’

‘Your meeting is scheduled for Thursday at 16:00pm.’

Your boss hadn’t even waited for you to return to work from your annual leave before she decided to let you know you had messed up astronomically and now you had days to stew over the meeting in which you were almost certain you would be asked to leave the company.

Lewis’ loss was huge, to you personally, but also in the fact that his exit had almost certainly cost the company you had put your life into, millions in the present and millions more in the future.

You were screwed. All you had to do was not fuck your client and none of this would have happened. You sunk lower into your sofa as your thumb teased pressing his name in your address book but you knew there was nothing left to say, not really.

‘You really left…’

‘You didn’t want me there, sweetie.’

‘The company, not me. I am in so much shit now, I have a meeting with the CEO on Thursday and I am pretty sure I will lose my job. This should have never happened.’

Lewis didn’t reply and you didn’t hold it against him, there was nothing more to say between either of you, the damage had been done and everything was beyond repair, now it was time to face the wreckage and walk through it like a serial killer revisiting a crime scene he had created, but with entirely more remorse.

It may have only been a matter of days since you last heard from him but there was something different about the silence now, something more permanent and certain about the way you knew it was fruitless to even check your phone, he wouldn’t have tried to contact you anyway.

Still, as you paused for a moment before walking through the CEO’s door, not at all prepared for the meeting you were about to take part in, the one in which you were almost certainly going to be asked to leave the company, you hoped he would have found enough empathy to at the very least send you a wish of good luck.

He didn’t, this time the goodbye was final and there would be no more Lewis to ease the pain of life, he would no longer be your treat after a long hard period of work, he would now only be someone you knew, someone you were acquainted with, he would now be exactly what you wanted all along; no one of importance to you really.

The meeting was bad, it wasn’t as bad as a ‘you must leave your job’ meeting but it was still very bad. Your boss had insinuated that you had lost your touch, that you would no longer be trusted to be able to deal with the biggest of contracts, your reputation had been permanently tarnished and there was not a single thing you could do about it now.

Nothing distracted your miserable thoughts, the volume of your car radio did not seem to go up loud enough to drown out the thoughts of regret. You were wallowing, it had been so long since you allowed yourself the option of self pity but the fallout of the situation with Lewis had given you no choice, all you had wanted was some casual fun. How was it fair you must pay with the career you had worked so hard for?

You were so caught up in your barrelling train of negative thoughts that you didn’t notice the car parked in your driveway at first, it was only as you tried to pull in and found you were unable to, that you saw it.

It took a few more seconds for you to register who the car belonged to; Lewis. Well it wasn’t the exact car you knew him to have, it was a different colour, but you were certain it could only be him inside of it.

You didn’t bother to park properly, you were far too annoyed for that, instead you threw off your seatbelt and threw open the car door, barrelling over to the Scarlet Shelby Cobra parked in front of your house.

It was empty, and finding it empty frustrated you more than it would have had you found Lewis inside. What was he playing at? You had told him how bad today would be for you, the last thing you needed was his games right now.

In your red misted haze you somehow found his number in your phone, one ring quickly turned to four and then to seven before the call cut off. You were mid writing him an angry text when you saw a message come through from him in your notification bar.

‘Check your wipers.’

You hated being told what to do, you hated being in need of help from a man more, so this combination made you seethe even more with anger as you spotted the card placed confidently behind your wiper as if certain it would not rain and ruin it for you both.

‘A little gift for you to apologise for the fallout of us - whatever us was - hopefully when you drive this car around it will not only remind you of your grandpa but also me, someone who never expected to yet cares about you more than you will ever know. I’m sorry for everything. Lewis x’

A car? He was giving you a car? Not any car either, the car he had told you was kept in mint condition in Malibu because of how much he loved it.

This was wrong, this was so wrong, yet as you got into the driver's seat to move the car to allow you to park properly, you were overwhelmed with a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in such a long time.

Lewis was everything you had ever wanted in a man, and that was exactly the reason why you couldn’t accept this gift.

‘Please answer your phone, or call me when you can talk, it’s urgent.’

You hadn’t dared look but you were certain the amount of calls made to him were nearing the hundred mark yet there was never an answer, there was never even a call cut off, you just imagined him sat with his phone in his hand waiting for you to finish calling so he could carry on with his day.

It took until 1am for your phone to ring, you hadn’t stirred to the first round of vibrations against your pillow, it was the second time that he called that woke you.

“Are you okay? I have just seen your message…”

“I can’t accept it, Lewis. I can’t accept the car, it’s too much, it’s not-”

“Calm down, breathe…”

His voice made you do just that, it hadn’t mattered that you had just been woken up, it was as if the words fought to leave your lips first and they came out in a hurried scrambled mess.

“Now…tell me why you can’t accept the car…”

“Because it’s not right, you loved that car, I don’t need it, I-”

“You know you just said a lot without actually saying anything right?”

You sighed. You sighed so loudly and so prolonged that you heard it echo back at you as if the sound wasn’t coming from you at all.

“Okay, if you really insist you can’t accept the car you can bring it back to me tomorrow night.”

“You can’t come and collect it?”

“I’m working all day but I will be home tomorrow evening. I'll cook you a meal if you like? Return the favour…”

“Home? You don’t live in this city…”

“I didn’t when we met, I like this city so I bought a place. I’ll send you the address, 8pm okay for you?”

You thought about it for a moment, the last thing that was sensible to do right now was be alone with Lewis but you also had to get rid of the car. You were going to Lewis’ house tomorrow night, and this time you could really prepare for the finale of your story, you could prepare for the clock to hit zero and you could prepare to finally put an end to your story.

Dressing for the chapter in your story titled ‘The End’ was far from easy. There was not a single dress you put on that felt right, there wasn’t a strand of your hair that cooperated enough to style it how you wanted it, your eyebrows were shaped like they were cousins and not sisters but as you gave yourself a final once over before you left the door, you smiled.

You looked good, you looked more than good, and Lewis would be foolish to not want you the moment he laid eyes on you.

You had opted for black, a short little black dress, black heels that would ensure you towered over the man who lacked height at the best of times and a tiny black purse that held nothing at all. You opted for black for a reason, it was a funeral you were attending after all, a sad long awaited funeral. The End.

It would have been foolish to expect a normal house on a normal road when you were driving to Lewis’ house but that was exactly what you were met with, from the outside at least.

Pulling into his driveway you were greeted by an exterior that resembled regular and a car parked on the drive to match, it was your car, well the car you were redelivering that looked the more costly, and for that you were a little taken aback.

“This is very…normal?”

The shock in your voice was evident as he greeted you at the door wearing clothes far more casual than you had ever seen him in.

“You say that like you expect different from me, I am normal?”

He was a gentleman, helping you take off your coat to hang on the rail behind you yet insisting you keep your heels on, despite the fact his carpeted floors were an off white shade that appeared as if you stared at it too hard you would leave a stain.

“If normal means you are a multi millionaire with anything you can possibly want at your fingertips, I guess.”

Lewis hadn’t been able to wipe the smile from his face from the moment he answered the door to you, and even as you stood inside his hallway teasing him lightly about his wealth, he smiled at you with a grin akin to pride and eye crinkles to match.

If you could have frozen in that moment you would have, the moment was sincere, natural, unweighted and untainted by anything else that came before or after it. He was happy and if you were honest, so were you; being in each other's company had that effect.

“Well maybe this multi millionaire is a little different to all the others you know. Maybe if you stuck around long enough you would have found that out, sweetie.”

The temptation to bite at him, to clap back at his audacity to make it seem like you leaving him, you leaving the temporary situation that he was also in, was not hurried on by his inability to keep it in his pants for one weekend, but you chose not to. You knew that if he was going to get a rise out of you, and it was clear he wanted one, you would make sure it was one deserving of such energy.

Lewis’ home was so normal, even as you walked through the hallway and towards the dining area you were stunned with how minimal it was, how almost homely it was, if it wasn’t for the fact it held no life at all, pale and unloved, a home used only for short stays and for that you couldn’t fault him for, it would have felt like a home you could see yourself living in.

You thanked the Gods for Lewis having no ties anywhere which stopped your wild imagination running away with ideas beyond what you thought your heart desired.

It caught your eye the second you stepped into the room, hung up high over a rather spectacular looking fireplace was the picture, that picture, the picture Lewis told of how it reminded him of you in a message, the picture that reignited contact if only brief, the picture that was now a daily part of his life; the picture of you.

“You bought it?”

Lewis stood behind you, he was close but the chair he moved back to help you sit was separating you enough that you could only hear the faint sounds of his smile in his breathing; you were grateful you couldn’t feel its warmth.

You didn’t sit, he didn’t move from his place, you both stood staring at the picture that hung proudly on the wall as if all of the unspoken words you shared were screaming at you in the art form that was undoubtedly the focus piece of the room.

“I had to…It’s beautiful isn’t it?”

He was right, it was far more beautiful in person but you dared speak the agreement into existence as it would be weighed down with way more than just a mutual understanding, it would be leading, it would be provocative, it would open the door to a world in which you had done so well to leave behind you. This was the last dance for you both, and once the tango of the evening was over, you could leave it behind you, forever.

Lewis didn’t push you, he seemed content alone in your company, as if having you there was fulfilment enough for anything he needed in that moment mixed with what you could only imagine was an unnatural caution, scared of saying or doing the wrong thing and frightening you away too early, anxious about hitting the forward button on the timer that was set to go off in a measly few hours from now.

“I’ll just be a minute, will you be okay here?”

There was something different about him, you hadn’t ever seen him this cautious before, he was treating you as if you were made of glass and it made you feel incredibly uneasy. If you were completely honest, you had come here to see the Lewis you knew one more time, not the Lewis he thought he had to be around you.

“Lewis I am a grown woman, please I will be fine.”

You could hear him hurry about in the Kitchen as he plated up the food he had cooked, a part of you found it adorable that he actually went to the effort, expecting him to have hired a chef for the evening but that was the man he was, full of surprises from the start and clearly equally as full at the end too.

“I hope you like this, if you don’t please just say and I will cook something else or we can order-”

“Lewis, stop.”

You interrupted his fretting as he made it to his seat, stopping him in his track of anxious words as he looked up to you in surprise.

“What?”

“This…this being super cautious around me, this worrying, this being super careful…this isn’t you, Lewis.”

His eyelashes fluttered into a little roll as you spoke, you could see his urge to disagree trying to force its way out of his mouth but he swallowed it down with the first bite of his food and immediately looked back at you.

“You’re right, it isn’t…but I can’t be me, I scared you away the last time.”

You knew you had to choose your words carefully, you knew that the outcome of the rest of the evening would depend on them and regardless of what you thought you wanted, you knew you needed the real Lewis, the Lewis you were fond of, to enter the room.

“You didn’t scare me away, I just…I guess I wasn’t prepared for what I saw.”

Lewis did well to hide his smirk behind the rim of his glass, the delight of your opening up, even if only just the bare minimum, had made him happy.

“I fucked up, you know nothing happened with her, right?”

It was your turn to hide behind the rim of your glass, a thousand and one questions fought to be asked but you knew you couldn’t, you knew you were in no position to question a single man's actions with another person, yet you needed to know anything and all that he would be willing to tell you about that fateful encounter, even if it meant ripping your heart out in the process.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

There was no pause, no hesitation as he thought of what to say next, as he fretted over how to answer, this time he was straight in there with a response, one that came from the heart, one that was as open and as honest as you could ever hope him to be.

“Yes, I do. I fucked up, I should never have taken for granted what we had, I should never have disrespected you by having her there, I’m sorry.”

“It’s my fault, I overreacted, you did nothing wrong really…we were casual after all, right?”

With the both of you having met an understanding of guilt, you shared a sweet smile across the table before you both set your eyes back on your plates. You were wondering if his mind was racing with as many thoughts as yours was as you played with your food.

“Did it hurt you?”

Your gaze snapped up to his across the table, the scowl that formed on your face made him squirm with regret almost immediately.

“Did what hurt me? Seeing you with someone else?”

Lewis didn’t dare confirm with words, settling for the safer option of a shy nod instead as he waited with bated breath to see how venomous your answer would be.

“Is that what your aim was, to hurt me? Did you set that scene up for me to find to make sure I left the country punished? Lewis, did you do it on purpose?”

Again he cowered away from words and opted for a meek head nod to confirm a suspicion you hadn’t even considered until the last five minutes.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Lewis expected you to erupt in anger, he expected you to scream at him, to shout at him, he wanted you to let him have all of the pent up aggression in your body but you didn’t.

You rose to your feet with hast, looking at the distraught and embarrassed looking man sat in his seat, frozen, before you shook your head and headed to the door.

“Wait please…please don’t go.”

Lewis appeared behind you in the hallway in an instant, his face fraught with worry, his hands desperately reaching for arms he was almost certain would shrug him off again in a moment.

“I think we are done here, goodbye Lewis.”

It felt right, it felt like it was finally over, it felt as if Lewis’ admission of guilt was exactly what you needed to hear to put the final nail in the coffin, to certify your situation as dead, and now you were free.

“Please, at least take the car…you can’t walk home, not alone, not in the dark.”

“I would rather walk miles in the pitch black than take anything from a man who purposely tried to hurt me.”

“That wasn’t my intention, please let me explain…please.”

Without thinking of his actions, Lewis stood in front of the door to stop you from leaving, out of sheer desperation for wanting you to stay he had unconsciously held you hostage.

“Are you going to force me to listen to you?”

“No…no, sorry.”

He moved from the barricade he had created with his body and let you have the option of the wide open door should you want it, but he certainly wasn’t finished talking.

“Please, just give me fifteen minutes to explain myself. I know I was wrong but I promise I never wanted to hurt you.”

As if Mother Nature knew exactly what she was doing as she opened the heavens, rain beat down on the driveway and you knew you couldn’t walk home in it, the thunder that roared above your head just confirmed it.

“Fifteen minutes…at least this time we will know when the clock runs out.”

Lewis tried to tempt you into the living room, he tried to entice you to somewhere comfortable hoping it would soften you up a little, but instead you returned to the seat you had taken at his dining table whilst he flirted with the decision to sit or stand, choosing last minute to just stand.

“Fifteen minutes, go…”

You set your timer on your phone and placed it on the table in front of you, knowing that every minute would feel like an hour and every word that left his mouth would feel like torture.

“I fucked up-”

“You said you were going to explain yourself, not repeat the same words you have said before…”

“Let me finish. I fucked up by testing you. I never invited her there to do anything but test you, I thought you would realise that you actually have feelings for me, I thought the sight of me with another woman would make you finally admit it.”

“You think I have feelings for you and you thought you would prove that by hurting me?”

“It wasn’t one of my finest ideas, I’ll give you that.”

Lewis paced, even though he could not see the seconds counting down on your phone screen he could feel them, he paced up and down the length of his table as he awaited your scolding.

“You’re right it wasn’t, and to even assume I have feelings for you when I have said so many times that this…that we…were just casual-”

“So you don’t have feelings for me?”

Lewis stopped by the table beside you, staring at you in disbelief, now it was you who felt the pressure.

“Why do you think I do? I told you, I don’t do commitment.”

“You told me plenty with words, but your actions told me more. I know you have feelings for me, I know you care and the way you have acted since my mistake just made me even more certain. If you didn’t care, if you didn’t feel anything for me…why do you hold what happened against me?”

You looked down at the timer on your phone as if it would sound off immediately and give you a route to escape, no such luck.

“You can’t even admit it can you? You have this image of a strong woman, of a woman untouchable yet you are scared of your own feelings, aren’t you?”

“I’m done here, I don’t care to wait eight more minutes to leave…”

“And instead of admitting it you are running away, figures…”

Lewis’ taunting of you was the final act to push you over the edge, you had barely stood when you exploded, you had barely had time to breathe when he forced it out of you.

“Fuck you, Lewis. This was just supposed to be sex, nothing more…you can’t try and guilt trip me into anything more.”

He grabbed at your wrists as you shook them whilst you spoke, pulling you closer to him to stop you from looking at anything but him as he responded.

“I just want you to admit it, I just want you to realise that what you feel, that what I feel…it isn’t something that comes along everyday. I know you have feelings for me, I know you do…”

Your weak attempt at shrugging off his grip was fruitless, he wasn’t convinced by your protest and neither were you, you were left with no choice but to look at him as you spoke.

“Fine, fine. You’re right, I cared, I was hurt, I was upset…I cared and…and…”

“Say it, sweetie.”

“I have feelings for you.”

The timer on your phone rang out, time was up. It was over.

The room was lit only by a flickering of candlelight, the storm outside provided the backing track to your emotions, as intense and as loud as your heartbeat the thunder crashed, and as his lips bore down on yours, the last thing you saw before your eyes closed was the gold slick across his cheek, glowing and beautiful. His eyes made love to you before his body ever did.

Nothing, there was nothing else in the world that felt more perfect than the moment your lips met once again. As electric as the lightning that struck the damp ground outside, the unison in which your lips moved sent shockwaves through your entire body.

He laid you back on the table so gently at first you hadn’t even noticed you had moved. He was so careful to not place his whole weight on top of you so instead he placed both of his hands either side of your face to hold himself up as he divulged in the taste of your lips.

“I missed this…I missed you.”

You could hear the hunger in his words, you could hear the intensity in his breaths as he tried desperately to communicate the rush of emotions that had swept over him.

You opened your eyes to meet his, a brown that had darkened with lust now sparkled with an emotion that could only be described as with love. His beautifully long eyelashes barely fluttered as if he did not want to blink and miss a single second of this moment with you, that was until you leant up to kiss him once more, placing a hand at either side of his cheeks to tease his full weight onto you and at once you felt his whole being relax.

There was no more patience when it came to devouring your body, it felt as if every kiss placed on your skin stung with an urgent need for more, like nothing at all was quenching the thirst he had for you, yet.

You hadn’t felt his fingers hook around the thin material of your panties until he had shuffled them halfway off of your thighs, throwing them to the floor as if they were the final thing that restricted him from you, from being able to really have you all to himself.

It was impossible to breathe, it was impossible to think, it was impossible to do anything but anticipate the very moment his tongue met the swollen nub that yearned for him.

With equal passion to how he kissed your lips, Lewis kissed, sucked and played with your nub with his tongue like you were satisfying a hunger that had starved him for months now, and in a way you were.

You were close, you were so close, he had the power to bring you to the edge within seconds of him working his magic on you but you were so very desperate to not give it to him this way, you wanted to feel him, you wanted to really feel him when you unleashed your pleasure.

Not a word needed to be shared between you, it had been this way from the moment your bodies connected, neither one of you needed to guide the other it was as if you were both made with the purpose of satisfying the other, like the other's pleasure came as a natural instinct to you.

“Can you taste how sweet you are?”

Lewis spoke in whispers into your lips as he engulfed yours with his own, words broken by faint moans as he throbbed against your middle, begging for entry.

“Please…”

Your plea was built from desperation, it was fed by a hunger that had grown purely by the one man you wanted being so unattainable for so long.

You needed him, every inch of your body needed him, you wanted to feel his heaviness and you wanted to bask in the pressure he built within you.

“I need you, Lewis…”

Lewis smiled with softness, in that moment he could have been arrogant but he wasn’t, it was as if he was satisfied enough with hearing your want for him, as satisfied as any orgasm would ever make him, and so he soaked in the satisfaction that came with hearing you purr for him before he slowly placed himself inside of you.

He hissed as he felt you wrap around his length, you gasped as you felt him stretch you, his size was so unforgiving that even a few months without him made it feel like your first time once again.

You had never been one to make love, you had never been one that needed it, but the sex you had on his dining room table was something out of the most romantic of all love stories.

It was slow, it was deep, both of your hands finding the other's skin to cling to as if you needed to be closer. Lewis made love to you and you back at him, pure, unadulterated love.

Lewis felt you tighten, he saw the look in your eyes that told him that he was a few strokes away from making you crumble with ecstasy and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold it throughout, even if he wanted to.

“Baby, I am so close…”

His voice was strained with pleasure, his lips parted permanently as he panted. For the first time since you started this, you didn’t rush to switch positions, this wasn’t about control, this was about the both of you doing the only thing you knew how to do to connect.

Your hand reached up to cup his face once more, the feeling of his beard in your palm was so comforting, the look in his eyes, both pained and electrified, told you of what he wanted.

“Give it to me.”

Those four words alone were enough to make him collapse back down onto you, wrapping his arms around your head he pounded into you with such ferocity neither one of you cared about the animalistic noises you let out.

It would be impossible to determine who finished first, but your orgasms hit with intensity at the same time. Moans echoed through the silent home as you felt the warmth of his ecstasy fill you whilst your intimate walls squeezed him in place.

You didn’t think it was possible but somehow, in the immediate aftermath of an earth shattering orgasm, Lewis looked even more beautiful. He looked like a man you could love, he looked like a person you would never be foolish enough to lose again, he looked like the Lewis you had met all those months ago, your Lewis.

It would have made more sense to move to his bedroom, even the sofa would have sufficed more than the marble table you were laid on together but he was comfortable, his chest that you rested your head on was soft if not for the prickly shaved hairs that decorated it.

Lewis gave you a feeling you had been missing for so long, he made you feel safe, he warmed you even in the coldest of winters, he made time stand still in that moment you were laid with him.

“I still can’t take the car, just so you know.”

You felt his chest rise and fall as he chuckled whilst his fingers tickled your bare arm, he was never able to truly not touch you.

“You are so stubborn. Take it please, it is a present for having caused you trouble at work. I had it shipped here before I even told the company I was leaving.”

“So you knew you were going to cause me trouble?”

“Well I knew it wasn’t going to go down well and I wanted to soften the blow a little.”

You rose up on your arm to look at Lewis as you asked him the next question, it was frustrating you that he did not seem to get the gravity of the upset he had caused in your life by his decisions.

“Why did you pull out if you knew it would cause me trouble?”

Lewis smiled at you, a frustrating untelling smile before his hand found the back of your head, pulling you down to his lips once again.

“It was my last resort, I had to see you…and after you confirmed wanting nothing to do with me at your house, I had no choice. I couldn’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

The words felt so expensive as they danced in the little space there was between both of your lips now, it was as if you could feel them before they were even said by him.

“Walking around like you aren’t the love of my life-“

“Lewis stop you don’t know that-“

“And neither do you. What I do know is I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you for even a second. I see you everywhere I go, I smell you in rooms with no one else present. If you aren’t the love of my life, then I don’t know what love is.”

It would have been so easy, so natural, for the two of you to fall back into making love once more but you didn’t. Instead you spent an hour just enjoying having the chance to kiss each other, to feel each other, to really soak in each other's presence.

“Are you leaving?”

Lewis had left you on the sofa as he went to freshen up, the storm had long passed outside and you began to feel like you had overstayed your welcome in his home.

“It’s really late, I’ll just call myself a cab and-“

“Come here.”

Lewis held out his hand for you to take it, you obliged.

You were far from surprised when Lewis began to lead you upstairs but his intentions were nothing like what you thought, for once.

“This is my spare room, I have three spare rooms. I do not want you to leave because you don’t quite feel ready to stay with me, I want you here and I am prepared to take it as slow as you like.”

“Lewis…”

“I’m serious, I will sleep on the floor if it makes you feel comfortable around me. No pressure, I just want you here.”

“Is that what you think, that I don’t feel comfortable around you?”

It was your turn to take the lead now, kissing his pert lips, nuzzling into his cheek with affection.

“It’s the only conclusion I can make when you say you don’t want commitment and I-“

You kissed him again, distracting his thought process and derailing his words, this was certainly a game you could enjoy.

“It’s not you, it’s me. You…you are wonderful.”

“Then why have you been fighting to keep me away for so long?”

“Because I can’t deal with another ghost.”

Lewis knew he had to make you comfortable so you would open up to him, he chose to lay with you on the bed in his spare room, he held you on his chest to know that should you need him, he’s got you and you felt it.

“What do you mean by another ghost?”

“I’ve been here before, I’ve done this before…people leave me and they leave me with their ghosts forever haunting me. I can’t do that again.”

“Look at me.”

Lewis held out his pinky finger for you to take.

“What if I promised you that I won’t leave you? I can’t guarantee that we will last forever but I can promise you that no matter what, you will always have me in your life.”

“But is it worth the risk?”

“I think you are worth every risk in the world. If we try and fail? I’ll be sad but I will be comforted by the fact that I have known you and that I have loved you. That is never going to change.”

He wasn’t quite able to reach your lips so instead he settled for a kiss on your forehead. His lips took a second to separate from your skin, placing an extra small one for good luck.

“Let me be the storm that clears your path, baby.”

“I just…I don’t know if this is the right thing, Lewis.”

His patience held strong despite the fact you could see the desperation in his eyes, he wanted you to agree, he needed you to trust him, he just wasn’t sure how he was going to make you believe you could.

“But what if it is? You deserve a shot at being smothered in love, don’t you?”

“I can’t…I just can’t lose you.”

This time Lewis strained down to your lips, in a last ditch attempt at making you feel all of what he already felt for you, he kissed you with a passion that took your breath away.

“Let me love you, let me prove to you that not all love stories end.”

#Lewis #ex #professional

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princess-of-the-corner · 1 hour

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Random Thoughts! That will not leave me be until they are shared!

Fumikage’s Quirk

I would say part of Fumi not noticing “Seance” would be that, because he isn’t around people with Vestiges, most of the “side effects” of his Quirk can be explained by the animal senses thing. Like, Fumi always knows where people are. He can’t be snuck up on. For the most part, these things can be excused by the animal portion of Fumi’s Quirk. Though not all. The closer he is to someone, emotionally, the better he is at telling where they are in particular, possibly how they feel, if they are ok. Growing up, this connection was strongest with Eimi - Fumi always knew where she was, if she was hurt, if she needed help. When people asked, the two said it was a “twin thing” (they are, actually, half right. The twin thing is not why Fumi knew all those things. The twin thing was why Eimi could basically “piggyback” off the connection to know how Fumi is. It’s why they can fight as basically one person when they need to. It’s highly unlikely Fumi will get that kind of connection with anyone else).

When Fumi goes to U.A., he starts to have similar connections with his classmates, but probably wouldn’t notice right away. If he’s asked, he puts it down to the bird thing giving him increased situational awareness (Koda is sceptical). I’d imagine the first inclination he gets is Aizawa accidentally Erases Fumi’s Quirk … and Fumi FREAKS OUT.

Regardless of whether he was aware of it or not, Fumi’s had this “Sixth Sense” basically his whole life. It’s part of the way he perceives and interacts with the world. Cutting it off is, for him, similar to someone getting blinded or deafened. All of a sudden, Fumi can’t sense where people are. He can SEE them, but they don’t feel REAL. Images, rather than people. They seem EMPTY. Even more disturbing he can’t sense Eimi. He’s ALWAYS been able to sense Eimi, to know where she is, if she’s safe, if she’s hurt, now he CAN’T! As far as Fumi’s concerned, his sister just straight up VANISHED.

Of course, this doesn’t last all that long. Maybe a few seconds, cause Aizawa notices Fumi’s freak out, stops using Erasure, and Fumi’s senses come back. Aizawa, of course, wants to know “What the hell”. Eimi also wants to know “What the hell” because their connection just went WEIRD. Not “dead” exactly, but Eimi could barely feel Fumi at all. Fumi, shaken, tries to explain what just happened. Apparently Aizawa erased his bird senses?

Aizawa, of course, goes “I did what?”. Because he cannot do that. He very much cannot “erase” someone’s senses - most people with “extra sense” Quirks are mutation types, and Aizawa can’t do much if anything to mutation type Quirks. Like, if he uses Erasure on Jiro, he MIGHT dampen her range, but he isn’t going to completely cancel her hearing. Her whole thing is hearing. She’s built for it. It is IMPOSSIBLE for Aizawa to completely negate her hearing. Similarly, if he went against someone, like say, Pony, he might be able to erase her Horn Shots, but he can’t erase anything else. He can’t erase Officer Tamakawa’s Quirk at all, because it’s just the cat head thing. The only way he could “erase” someone’s senses, are if they’re part of Quirk that isn’t Mutation based.

The more the twins explain, the more Aizawa has a headache. Cause I’m assuming he did this once already with Hagakure, possibly Uraraka. He’s wondering if he can find the idiots with Quirk Counsellor Licenses some of his kids went to and smack them, because good grief.

tbh my only hesitation in this is that I did already write Aizawa using his Quirk on Fumikage before. He was attempting to get ‘Dark Shadow’ under control and realized that it didn’t work at all which led to him looking more into whatever’s going on with those two.

But also. HELL YEAH.

#submission

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veny-many · 11 months

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I love imagining 104th battalion as a lost one's battalion.

Original 104th members has vanished horribly in sudden except four survivals.

Which means they should have built second one by recruiting many clones.

Most of them are shinies, who are still new to Kel Dor general and feral original Wolfpack, and reality of war.

And some of others are from other battalion due to many reasons. Someones are just got transferred because to fill the place. Some of them might lost his battalion before, like original 104th, and never had a chance to rebuild his own. Someones are got thrown by his own battalion, due to his will or not.

Because of this, second 104th's rebuilding had many problems and arguments. Like new shinies scared of alien General. Some rude mans gossiping that commander and General were faulty of their great loss. Someones doesn't understand why original Wolfpack members are so shaken by their loss, because clones were meant to be expendable. And confused over Kel Dor who is caring every troopers with his honest and kind attitude.

Wolfpack also had problems with their new brothers. Because these new mans don't trust them yet. They are afraid of them. And then they realized why.

Shinies are afraid and confused over brutality and loss of war. Some didn't trust netborn because they were abused. Some are devastated by lost of their families. Some just found this war is meaningless.

So Wolfpack uses their General's method: Just wait patiently. To get this man's trust. And no meaningless judgment or promises, and just show in action that they do care for them. That they will protect them.

It was Plo's method to gather trusts and respects from original 104th. And it worked. Before they lost almost everything. In honest mind, Plo thought he might lost his man's trust when they lost so much under his command. But they still followed him, and trusted him. Because they saw how hard he tried to save his troopers, fighting in harassing space void just to save three clones in hopeless situation. How he tried to encourage clones in despair, keeping them from thinking about cruel space, leading them to what they can still do. How he still tried to hope to save more, asking Skywalker if there was any other survivors, and grieved with little soka for fallen troopers.

Their bond was beyond loss and grief. And it was not marauding like rage and anger, was not suffocating like despair and sadness. There was hope. So they could fight for light in this world even if it's hard to find or fragile, and fight for their lives not just for own selfishness but for belief that they can follow the greater good and make changes for better world.

And if it takes more to form this bond with new 104th, it will be totally worth it.

Soon after, the new 104th members started to believe their officers. They knew they would fight to death by each others side to protect brothers and innocents. They accepted that they do care each other not just for battle strategy, but for living being not just meat droids that can be easily replaced. They could mourn the fallens, so they never forget, and they could live eternal in their heart and memories. They comforted each other to ease the pain, played with each other for joy, and rested with each other for relaxing. They became brothers. Tied to each other's blood and tear.

(Boost joked about 'brothers by blood' thing when they were too badly injured and needed blood donations, that shortly filled with hundreds volunteers from their battalion camp site. And Sinker added jokingly that in that case General can't be their brother because he can't share any blood with them, and met with aggressive objection from Comet came with full body slam. Wolffe scolded them with annoyed face, and Plo just laughed calmly until angry medic marched to them.)

And finally one day, Wolffe knew that his battalion is whole, again. They march together, laugh and grieve together. It was time for them to choose new color to wear.

Wolffe still didn't forget his last battalion. He grieved to remember them. To make them eternal in his memory. In his grief, his mourning.

But he knew he still has to get up from loss. The loss that burned down his home and family. Left nothing but a ash for mourning.

And Wolffe will rise with ash, with his brothers marched away.

He chooses gray to mourn his fallen.

The new battalion gladly accepts their commander's choice. Because now they understood their oldest brother's history and will. And they will march with his will, to mourn and remember their own fallens too.

104th has completed once again.

#star wars #the clone wars #commander wolffe #104th battalion #plo koon #blessed are those who mourn #my writing #my whump #my headcanon

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betasuppe · 2 years

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For the Champion Emmet AU, whenever you mention Emmet's reign of terror, it takes a moment for me to remember that he's 'just' beating lots of trainers and crushing their dreams, not enacting a literal reign of terror. What if being Champion did give him actual political power? What kind of reign of terror would he start?

I'm gonna be honest bruv, I hate any & all politics with a deep insidious burning passion and you could not even pay me enough to willingly talk about it even in regards to a fictional character. SO instead I'm gonna turn this ask a different way -

Let me start by saying this: EMMET IS A GOOD GUY. He's not inherently evil or hateful, by any means, ok?

& now prepare below for a ramble -

Sure, Emmet in his role as Champion might be cruel & cold-hearted in battle as well as be exceptionally prone to snapping at people probing too deep into his business... but he's not a bad guy. I jokingly call his years as champion as his 'reign of terror' but honestly he's really hurting & had a number of very bad experiences that lead up to him becoming prickly, easily aggrevated, & even ruthless when it comes to battling - but bUT BUUUUT, it doesn't continue like that forever!!!

Emmet really is a good guy. Not even hidden deep down or anything, but he's genuinely a kind, passionate guy!!! But he was so hurt by the loss of his brother & how the rest of the world ignored him & treated him with such disregard that he started acting very... not like himself.

Thus, enter his Champion Emmet persona.

& also, listen. I hate hearing people shit on variations of Emmet that aren't always perfectly happy & chipper, even with his brother & best friend vanishing out of his life. So please, give Champ Em some leeway - this isn't who he truly is, it's more a way he could cope & struggle through his grief.

& trust me, coming from someone who went years without being correctly diagnosed & treated properly for multiple mental health issues, I was a snarky, needlessly cruel & rude fucking asshole more often than not. & that's not who I am, at all! Likewise, Emmet went through an extreme amount of trauma & needed professional help & even therapy to break through this harsh, cold exterior to his sweet, old self that he had hid away when the world around him was complete offset.

I'll tell the follow up story later [if anyone wants to hear it, though I strongly doubt anyone reads this or even cares lmao] of how Champion Emmet returns to his old self & ends up becoming one of Unova's most well loved public figures. But for tonight, that's as far as I'm gonna go.

So yeah, sorry I'm not answering your question, but I hope this bit of rambling is ok!!! x0

#asks #champion emmet #keeping it minimal but !!!#theres plot! i swear!#i just know no one wants to hear about my silly au so blah #sorry this is all i gots

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west-tokyo-incidents · 1 year

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oops have some ouchies.

Garion stared, as he did many times, at the empty void left behind by the great beast. It was humbling, it was devastating, it was… disquieting. To look upon the black space. The deep groans of Things as they move through the space like whales or jellyfish.

His biggest failure. His greatest blunder. So many timelines simply. Gone.

Because he’d failed to predict it. So many unarchived timelines were taken with it. And there was nothing left to track where it had come from. There was no trail of evidence, no path to the destruction. They couldn’t even guess where it had begun, only where it ended.

And the end of it was a frayed knot. Timelines that were still in repair. Some that had to be trimmed entirely for the suffering caused by the damage.

Garion frowned quietly. His mind ran through all the different timelines in that vast abyss he had visited before it was gone. The feathers of a beautiful crane-serpent that welcomed him and listened to him. The burning torch of a bull-lion as it razed the fields of its enemies. A great forest that had sprouted across an entire continent, made into the hunting grounds of the Hunter and his Hounds.

His eyes softened, and then closed in grief for the Hunter. He’d been particularly fond of that one. A Paresse instance who had taken to a kind of ‘most dangerous game’ scenario. Having captured and subjugated a few other douji and made them nearly feral beasts. He enjoyed letting the Hunter think he could catch up. Only to turn the game back on him. The Hunter had enjoyed the challenge and delighted in the occasional reversal as well. Sometimes, they hunted together. Garion would bring in an instance slated for destruction and they would chase…

It was all gone, now.

None of those timelines, though, had been ones anyone expected to spread outside of their bundles. Their branches were nearly solid. Few so much as bled into others. And the World Eater had never so much as resembled any of those. It had never resembled anyone, honestly. They way it shrieked and twisted, like an eel with too many mouths. Tore through timelines like they were paper. They had thought, at first, that it was searching. It certainly seemed so. It didn’t destroy from the outside, it tore into them. Hunting through different areas before eating them from the inside out like wasp larvae to a spider.

That’s why it had been so hard to detect. Whole timeline bundles would simply… implode. Vanish. Blink out of existence. And he had chosen to ignore it. Even when the Hunter’s forest vanished, he ignored it. Figured it was a natural decay.

And the searching became screaming. Became wailing. Became mindless destruction. By the time the Facility realized that the implosions were because of this creature, it was too late to try and satiate it. Its original timeline was long gone, there was no way to figure out who it had been.

“Boss.”

Garion jerked his head around, seeing Songbird looking at him, her arms crossed. He grinned wide at her, “Whatchya need, chickadee?”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re needed by Father in a stable timeline. Said you can choose.”

He hummed and rolled his head back, thinking, “I’ll meet him in the Rift line.”

“Stable timeline, Boss.”

A groan, “Fiiine. I’ll go to the K-12. Boring one, but stable.”

A laugh, and she’s gone.

He stares for a moment longer at the emptiness. How far away the next bundle seems. The space where countless others should be. There's grief there. A deep, agonizing grief. And not just his own. He turned his back to it and let the projection fade, the mechanics and screen of the room appearing and folding back into place in the walls, going dormant for the next person. It’s too dangerous to view the expanse directly.

His cane clicked along with his shoes on the hard floor. Dubois’ steps behind him were silent in comparison. He told Garion that Songbird had gone ahead to the meeting place. Garion just nodded his acknowledgement.

He let the halls be silent. Even leaving the projection behind, the World Eater continued to eat at his mind.

Whatever the World Eater had been, it had left such a burst of agony in that vacuum. Its wailing when he, himself, had to step in and remove it entirely.

Sometimes, he wondered if it meant anything. The way it had changed when he showed up. It had paused long enough to let its end come. Countless eyes suddenly turned on him. The little noise it had made, almost childlike. Maybe it knew what he could do. Maybe it knew that he was its end.

That had to be it. He couldn’t let his imagination take root, imagining it as happiness at seeing him. Because if it had been, then its death cry would have been in betrayal. He couldn’t let himself imagine any kind of recognition or familiarity in those eyes.

He was just being a narcissist. Songbird always accused him of being such. Putting himself in the middle of everything. This is no different. He shakes his head. The World Eater was just a beast he failed to predict. It was a disaster, yes. Many, many people died. But it didn’t care about him. It simply isn’t feasible that it would, there were millions of timelines in that space. It could have been any number of them for any number of reasons.

A nudge on his shoulder. Dubois. The man was giving him a concerned look from under his beret. Garion just shook his head.

“I’m fine. Sorry.” He lifted his cane and pulled open a small rift, motioning his guard ahead of him. He could tell Dubois didn’t believe him, but it didn’t matter. There’s a meeting to get to.

He steps into the rift and closes it behind him.

#The Facility #Garion Dubois #World Eater #While the implication is that the Hunter is the Eater #tbh I'm not even sure #it could be anyone in those timelines #wheeeeeeeeeeee

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ruminativerabbi · 3 months

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The Jewish Wind Phone

All of us for whom prayer is part of daily life have occasionally been challenged to justify our practice—possibly even just to ourselves—by saying clearly whom we think we are actually speaking to when we pray. It’s not that easy to know how to respond. There are numerous traps to avoid when answering. Saying simply that we are talking to God seems inevitably to lead to two derivative questions, both unsettling to address: how exactly we know that and why it is we think all-knowing God needs to be told anything at all. And a third question too, equally disquieting, also surfaces regularly, the one that asks why it is, if prayer is dialogue, that God never seems to talk back in the way we would consider perfectly normal with any other interlocutor.

The problem, however, lies not in our answers but in the questions themselves: all are rooted in a simplistic understanding of what language is and the role it plays in our human lives. Yes, language is communication: you ask the nice lady in the store which aisle the paper towels are in and she tells you. But language is also self-expression, a means of ordering the world, of grappling with the unfathomable by addressing it, by naming it, by interpreting it. And it is that latter definition of language that we bring to prayer: the world feels overwhelming in the wake of disaster and, instead of withdrawing into our shells like terrified turtles, we face the darkness by naming it, by labeling its parts, by addressing it from the depths of our consciousnesses. We thus allow language to serve as a kind of bridge that connects our inmost selves to the terror just ahead…and, instead of trembling in our boots or shutting our eyes, we speak. And thus do we subdue the raging world with language, with words, and, yes, with prayer.

Almost entirely forgotten—at least by Americans—is the Tohoku earthquake and tsunami that hit Japan on March 11, 2011, a nightmarish disaster in the course of which 15,894 died almost instantly, most from drowning. More than 2,500 simply disappeared and were never seen again.

In the wake of that disaster, I remember reading about an older man named Itaru Sasaki, who lives in a place called Ootsuchi where over eight hundred people were washed out to sea in less than a single minute. His town was devastated by the tsunami, but he himself was in mourning for a cousin, someone he truly loved, when the disaster struck. And so, feeling bereft and totally alone, he came up with a very strange way to deal with his grief: he purchased on old phone booth and set it up in his garden. Then he purchased an ancient rotary phone, a black one, and put it on a table in the booth. There was no dial tone because the telephone wasn’t attached to anything. But on that phone, Mr. Sasaki would talk to his cousin and tell him about his life now that he was carrying on alone and without someone he truly loved. He called it the kaze no denwa, the “wind telephone.”

And then, the amazing part. Word spread about this thing, this crazy, unconnected, telephone in a phone booth in a garden by the sea. People started coming. In droves. From all over Japan. NPR sent a reporter to cover the story and he got permission to record some of what people were saying into the phone.

“Why only me, dad? I’m the only one left alive. People don’t realize what it’s like,” a teenage boy said to his missing father.

“Everyone’s good here. We are all trying hard,” an elderly lady told her long-time spouse, a man who disappeared when the sea overwhelmed his town.

“You were going to buy me a violin. I just bought it myself finally,” a girl says to her vanished parents through tears.

“I’m building a new house but without you or our little girl and boy, there’s no point is there?” The words choked up in the throat of a middle-aged man who lost his entire family.

It’s a touching story, but the big question—to me, at any rate—is why this thing worked at all. Shouldn’t it not have worked? It’s an idiotic thing, after all: an ancient rotary phone that isn’t connected to anything in a phone booth that is also not connected to anything in a garden in front of someone’s private home. But what makes it interesting to me is that it somehow does work…and not because it really does anything at all. These poor people in Japan found in that phone booth not a portal to the afterworld, but a way of using language to communicate with the universe and all of its parts, a way of facing the unimaginable using the tools offered by language itself, a way of speaking into the dark and finding, not silence and not nothing, but glimmers of hope, of light, of promise. For me, that is what prayer is, almost by definition. For more about the wind telephone, click here or here.

It was this story, which I first read about years ago, that came to mind when I first visited the remarkable website called Coming Home Soon (click here to go see for yourself). Currently a real-space exhibit at the Jewish Museum in Amsterdam and created in Holland by people consumed with worry about the hostages being held by Hamas, the on-line version is remarkable. The front page of the website offers pictures of every single one of the hostages held or still being held in Gaza, presenting all 253 and not distinguishing between the 110 who were released in a prisoner swap a few months ago, those still being held, and those already dead: all are or were prisoners of Hamas. (Hamas is holding the bodies of the deceased hostages to use as the most ghoulish of bargaining chips to use in future negotiations.)

Who thought of setting up this website, I don’t know. But the idea couldn’t be more simple: on the front page of the site are on display color photographs of each of the hostages. The dead have tiny “forever in our hearts” badges attached to their pictures; the ones already freed have “welcome home” badges. But otherwise they are all mixed up together on the page—just as they are in our hearts. And each photograph has just behind it a biography you can read of the hostage and—and now I get to my real point—and an opportunity to write to that hostage. The hostages don’t get mail. They don’t have access to email or to text messages. The letter you write and send off does not go into some cosmic in-box to wait for the hostages to log on and see what you had to say. The messages you send to the dead will not be any more unread than the ones you send to the living.

This is not a real mail service; this is the Jewish kaze no denwa, the Jewish wind phone. You write not to communicate—or at least not to communicate in the normal manner of people dashing off emails or dictating text messages to tell other people this or that—but to express, to pray, to use language as a kind of bridge between despair and hope, between the dismal reality of where we are and the bright light that beckons in the distance—the flickering flame of faith, of courage, and of confidence in the future.

When this is all over, all the hostages will come home—some, surely most, to their families and others to their graves. But, until that happens, the job of the righteous is to pray for their released and for their survival. Language is the bridge to God; that is why prayers are constructed of words. Sometimes, it feels right to turn to God directly in prayer. That, we do all the time. But there are also times when you can use language to pray to God by addressing a human party, living or dead. That is the opportunity the Coming Home Soon website affords: a way to pray for the hostages through the medium of language directed not directly to God but to those of God’s creatures in the most need of redemption.

#Prayer #Hostages in Gaza #Wind Phone

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denimbex1986 · 4 months

Text

'All of Us Strangers, a new Bafta-nominated film starring Andrew Scott, follows a man in middle age who is drawn back to his childhood home and has a series of conversations with his parents over the following weeks.

There is a twist. His parents have been dead for more than 30 years.

His mother and father, played by Claire Foy and Jamie Bell, died in a car crash when he was still a boy. The interactions the character, Adam, has with them as the film progresses are therefore imagined.

Adam can only guess what their reactions might have been to his adult life; his job, personality, and, most significantly, his sexuality. His parents remain the ages they were when they died - which is why the actors playing them are younger than Scott.

Fantasy and reality are not always easily distinguished by Adam - or by the viewer. Adam goes about his life in a dream-like haze, something which sets the mood of the film. The result is a melancholy and absorbing piece of cinema which deals with themes of grief, loss, identity and isolation.

"More than anything, it's about someone looking back into the past to understand how to move forward, and have conversations with the past as a way to feel more secure in the world," director Andrew Haigh tells BBC News.

"It's not the visceral pain of immediate grief and loss," he continues. "I wanted to talk about pain across the board, all of the sort of difficulty and trauma and loss that you all experience throughout your life."

The idea of envisaged conversations will be relatable to many who have lost someone close. Wishing a parent, partner or friend was alive to share moments in the present is natural, and it can be a useful and comforting thought exercise to consider the discussions you wished you'd had then - or the ones you wish you could have now.

"Any kind of loss, whether it's through death or divorcing parents, the breakdown of a family, a close friend that moves away, whatever it might be, there are these things in our life that leave an imprint," Haigh says.

"They are always there and they bubble away, they grow and they exist forever. And you have to sometimes look back at them, and find a way to speak to them and uncover them again, because you need to as you go forward in your life, it doesn't vanish."

Taking a film with such a gloomy premise and turning it into something so enjoyable is quite a stunt to pull off - but Haigh has done so beautifully. All of Us Strangers has been greeted overwhelmingly by four and five-star reviews since its premiere at the autumn film festivals.

"It is a poignant, deeply melancholic exercise on the attempt to bridge the past with the present, a cosmic inquiry into resolving all that was unsaid through second chances that never were," wrote The Wrap's Tomris Laffly.

The Hollywood Reporter's David Rooney agreed: "While it unfolds in a hazy dream state rooted in Adam's loneliness and the emotional suspension that has blocked him from moving forward, it's by no means a downer. It's a thing of beauty, heartfelt and unforgettable."

All of Us Strangers has been nominated for six Bafta Film Awards - including outstanding British film and best director for Haigh. The Oscar nominations will be announced on Tuesday.

The film is based on the 1987 novel Strangers by Taichi Yamada - but while the building blocks are similar, there are some noticeable differences between the source text and the film.

The original novel, set in Tokyo, plays like "a more traditional ghost story," Haigh notes. "There's a heterosexual love affair alongside it, no queer element."

But in the film adaptation, Adam's homosexuality is front and centre - and played out through a relationship that gradually develops with a younger man, Harry, one of the only other residents in their London tower block.

Harry, played by Aftersun and Normal People star Paul Mescal, occasionally encounters Adam in and around the near-empty building, aware of a certain romantic friction between them.

Haigh, whose previous films include Weekend and 45 Years, says it was important to have a gay actor such as Scott play the leading role.

"I wanted someone who I knew was a brilliant actor who could go through some very difficult emotional transitions in this film," he explains. "But I also did want someone who was gay and who could understand the nuance of that stuff that's being talked about under the surface or in the edges of the story."

"It's an interesting thing that a lot of gay people have to go through. And it's hard to explain you had something within you that you felt may separate you from your parents and they'd reject you for it."

Adam grew up in the 1980s, a time when society was far less accepting of homosexuality, particularly in light of the deepening Aids crisis, a disease many at the time mistakenly thought almost exclusively affected gay people.

Haigh says he was keen to cast an actor who "understood on a visceral level the fear of having to come out, the fear of rejection, the fear of growing up in the shadow of Aids, all the things that affected a generation of queer people".

Mescal, on the other hand, is not gay - although his character appears in far fewer scenes. The actor has argued that the debate about straight actors playing gay roles is simplistic, and that the director and the film's intentions are what's most important.

"It depends who's in charge of telling the story," Mescal recently told the Sunday Times. "The issue is that there have been so many queer performances in cinema that have been offensive, but that's because the film-makers and the actors have been careless. I don't think this film exists in that conversation whatsoever."

To begin with, Adam's parents are not initially thrilled to hear about his sexuality. But they do not reject him outright. Instead, they seem more confused and curious about his lifestyle. They gradually warm up the more they learn.

"It was a really tough time for a lot of people, parents were very unaccepting, and the world did not like gay people back then. That's how we felt anyway, as gay people," Haigh recalls. "So I needed there to be a truth to it, I needed the parents to have a complicated reaction to it, but I also needed them to be accepting in the end because Adam absolutely needed that.

"And also," he adds, "it is a reality that, if those parents had not died, they would have grown into an understanding of queerness and would have been accepting, because that is what we have seen happening in the world."

In the UK - still, in many respects, a country of the stiff upper lip - the idea of exploring and discussing feelings and sexuality so deeply might work for a film, but be a horrifying prospect in reality.

"We're terrible at saying the things we need to say," Haigh agrees. "But I do think British people are good at being able to express those feelings without having those conversations. Americans often think we're repressed and don't want to talk about it. I don't think that's true, I think we just do things slightly differently.

"We might make a cup of tea for someone, and that is an expression of love, without us needing to say 'I love you'. We do things in a way that are expressing our emotional sentiment, just through other methods."'

#All of Us Strangers #Andrew Scott #Andrew Haigh #Claire Foy #Jamie Bell #Paul Mescal #Strangers #Taichi Yamada #Weekend #45 Years #BAFTA Film Awards

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bhagvadgita · 5 months

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Verses 12.13 & 12.14 - Bhakti Yoga

अद्वेष्टा सर्वभूतानां मैत्र: करुण एव च | निर्ममो निरहङ्कार: समदु:खसुख: क्षमी || 13||

सन्तुष्ट: सततं योगी यतात्मा दृढनिश्चय: |मय्यर्पितमनोबुद्धिर्यो मद्भक्त: स मे प्रिय: || 14||

One who is not envious but is a kind friend to all living entities, who does not think himself an owner of things and is free from false ego, who is equal in both happiness and distress, who is tolerant, always satisfied, self-controlled, and engaged in devotional service with determination, his mind and intelligence fixed on Me – such a devotee of Mine is very dear to Me.

These verses describe the qualities of a pure devotee of God, who is free from malice, attachment, egoism, and duality. Such a devotee sees all living beings as parts of God and treats them with kindness and compassion. He does not claim ownership of anything and does not identify with the body or the mind. He accepts whatever comes by the Grace of God and does not complain or rejoice in the changing situations of life. He is forgiving, content, and steady in his devotion to God, with his mind and intellect dedicated to Him.

These verses also imply that devotion to God is not a matter of external rituals or formalities, but a matter of the heart and the attitude. A devotee does not need to renounce the world or perform severe austerities to please God. He only needs to cultivate a loving relationship with God and serve Him with sincerity and faith. He does not seek any personal benefit or reward from God, but only His pleasure and love, like Sudama.

These verses also reveal that God is not partial or indifferent to anyone, but He reciprocates with His devotees according to their level of surrender and devotion. He loves all living beings, but He is especially pleased with those who love Him and follow His instructions. He bestows His grace and protection upon His devotees and guides them to the Ultimate Goal of life, which is to attain His eternal abode.

Similar verses from Vedic texts, are:

- Isa Upanishad, Verse 6

यस्मिन् सर्वाणि भूतानि आत्मैवाभूद् विजानतः । तत्र को मोहः कः शोक एकत्वमनुपश्यतः ॥

He who sees all beings in the Self, and the Self in all beings, he never suffers; because when he sees all creatures within his true Self, then jealousy, grief and hatred vanish.

- Katha Upanishad, Verse 6.14

यदा सर्वे प्रमुच्यन्ते कामा येऽस्य हृदि श्रिताः ।अथ मर्त्योऽमृतो भवत्यत्र ब्रह्म समश्नुते ॥

When all the desires that dwell in his heart are gone, THEN the mortal becomes immortal, and attains Brahman even here.

- Yogavashishta, Chapter 6.2.8

नाहं देहो न देही न जीवो न जगत्पतिः । अहं ब्रह्मास्मि सर्वं ब्रह्मैवाहमद्वयः ॥

I am not the body, nor the embodied, nor the vital force, nor the Lord of the world. I am Brahman alone, all is Brahman, I am non-dual.

All these verses emphasize the unity of the Self with Brahman, the Supreme Reality, and the need to transcend the illusion of duality and diversity. They also teach that the realization of this Unity leads to liberation from suffering and bondage, and the attainment of immortality and bliss.

However, the Bhagavad Gita verses also stress the importance of devotion to God (Bhakti), who is the personal aspect of Brahman, and the source of all existence. The Bhagavad Gita verses suggest that the highest form of Realization is not merely to identify oneself with Brahman, but to love and serve Brahman as the Supreme Personality, who is the ultimate object of love and the Supreme Goal of life. Brahma (ब्रह्म) is the name given for the Source Energy/Highest God, by Hindus. The Bhagavad Gita verses also indicate that God is not impersonal or indifferent, but He is the most intimate friend and well-wisher of all living beings, and He reciprocates with His devotees according to their level of surrender and devotion.

#bhaktiyoga #gita #yoga #bhagavadgita #spirituality #yogi #meditation

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soysaucevictim · 9 months

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“it feels like my brain (was floating in a fishtank)”

(See warnings/summary on Ao3.)

[ Prologue/Start ] [ Previous ]

Chapter 9: Levitation Nation

Roman sat in his room and dug around for where he shoved the Disney pins out of sight for the better part of the last year.

He hesitated briefly to pull one of those things out, to open his eyes with it in his hands. But when he did, he found himself crying. He carefully rubbed the enamel, actually enjoying the experience for the first time, since before everything. He could still do other things, like look around his room and actually think.

The sting in his chest was gone.

He couldn’t feel his Horror stirring at all. It was strange.

His head felt a clarity and quiet he never had before. As much as the idea of flying around still sounded like fun, he felt like a human being. He was curious about seeing his Horror sleeping soundly, but he couldn’t open up a gate to his own Lair.

He knew distantly, how vulnerable he was like this. That if someone found him like this, he wouldn’t be able to defend himself. Neither in the real world or the Primordial Dream. The weight being lifted was just too profound to register it.

He wished he could have a few more days like this. His parents were happy he seemed happy.

If he hadn’t gotten a surprise message on his phone, reminding him of the main reason WHY he finally managed to shake off Steve’s touch, he would think the risk of it all was worthwhile.

It took several replays of the voice-mail for Roman to properly process what he was hearing.

“Robro, it’s been awhile. Can we, uh, catch up later? Halloween is just around the corner and I know you won’t pass up going to Disneyland. I have some promising news to share! You will be there, won’t you? Please, please be there. I-I need-!”

Remus hung up before he could finish the sentence, Roman was rattled by how his brother’s tone shifted too. From this confident, if kind of stilted casualness, to trembling with fear.

When he shared it with his parents, the color in their faces drained.

Everyone was happy to have heard from him, after being sick with worry. But, Roman knew this also meant it was time to reawaken his Horror. He was scared for his brother. He was scared for his parents’ safety in the Primordial Dream. He was also selfishly scared about what it would take to do so – he worried if he was going to hate or hurt his parents after this.

But they reassured him. “We’re only doing this out of necessity, we love you. We love all of you. Dearly.”

Carrie remembered the time Roman vanished after he was shot by Steve. She remembered the feeling of the world disappearing beneath her, staring at the trail of blood he left behind. She was bereft with grief, so many things happened in what felt like an instant and her mind was playing catch-up.

She started having nearly constant nightmares after that happened.

At first they were clear 1:1 trauma flashbulbs, the events playing out in sharp fragments etching deeply into her heart. After Steve had died, the nightmares started to warp into some kind of fairy tale. She realized she had been Called by the Bright Dream, when her broken leg healed so much faster than it should have.

There was a brief moment of elation, to get that cast off and walk normally again. Before long, she started to understand what it really meant to be a Hero. Most of the time, she just wanted to be a normal human mother again. Just concerned with her work at the hangar, staying connected with the extended relatives, and taking care of her immediate family and home.

Those desires would then be tainted by the Bright Dream, “Maybe if your children weren’t monsters in the first place, you could’ve had that.”

Whether she liked it or not, that wasn’t the reality she lived in. Ruminating on it wasn’t helping anyone, least of all herself.

She and Vic stood before Roman’s bedroom. As she looked into her child’s expectant eyes, she knew this was going to be one of those times she might actually be grateful for its Gifts. She hoped it wasn’t going to be the last time.

She held her husband’s hand and they stepped through the shimmering rift into Roman’s very soul, together.

The entrance point the Espinozas had taken led into a long, winding burrow. The only way was forward.

The first thing they were met with were unrelenting gusts of wind, within the Lair. It was surprising how the tunnel’s torches even stayed lit in there – with how the winds stretched them to near-nothingness with each pulse. Thankfully, they had entered with some climbing gear, relying on picks to leverage themselves further inside.

It was a boon granted by Roman’s invitation that the air inside wasn’t too thin to breathe. It was also probably the only reason why they didn’t contend with a bellows effect on those flames while there.

The wind made it hard to communicate. Carrie was taking point, shouting, “I see the first chamber ahead, dear!”

Soon enough they were there, the winds had more room to churn about, but there were other concerns in front of them. Namely, most of the space wasn’t level or stable footing but a deep chasm below. There was barely enough room to sidle along the walls toward the next tunnel.

Roman told them this place technically went to two chambers. Across the top? His beloved Hoard chamber, the place they wanted to be. Down the drop? Smack dab in the Heart Chamber, where the dragon slept, and it was a very, very long fall.

There was a burrow connecting Heart to Hoard as well, so that gave them a couple routes to get there. Either try the direct path to carefully cross the pit, or rappel down and take the scenic route. Hearing about it beforehand, Carrie thought they’d do the former. But, after actually seeing it for herself? “I think our only option is down.”

“Do you think we packed enough rope?”

“We can only hope.”

The noises of the ropes twisting, of cracking stone and fall-away rocks made time feel sluggish and tense. The wind making the two sway with even a little too much slack forced them to slow even more. Carrie was worried her husband wouldn’t keep up, until his magic flared up again, part of the way down. It almost broke her control of her descent – how a wave of adrenaline and goosebumps overcame her. She had to pause to catch her breath, “V-Vic!?”

He cackled, riding the thrill of the spell he just cast, “Just trying to give myself a second wind!”

Vic redoubled his speed of progress down into the Heart, she was worried he was going to get reckless at that rate. Again, her thoughts returned to Remus. “Careful!”

They managed to get close enough to the floor to see the hearth fire that lit up Roman’s Heart and to get a sense of just how short the rope was. It had to be just over a storey’s fall height, by Carrie’s reckoning. She was about to tell Vic to let her jump first, but he let go first.

He wasn’t the most graceful about it, and she followed with a more stable landing. She fretted a bit over him only to find him a little scraped up on landing. They went quiet to the sound of noises, a mix of growling and snoring, loud and low enough to reverberate deeply through the two of them.

They looked across the chamber to see just the immense scale of Roman’s Horror. As Carrie carefully approached her son’s soul, she figured the dragon could eat several people in one go, no issue. She shook her head as the Bright Dream’s echoes pierced her thoughts, “It would be so easy to-”

Vic noticed her starting to shake, “What’s wrong?”

“I-I can’t stay here, we need to get to his Hoard. Now.”

Vic understood, this place filled him with a constant feeling of unease. Seeing Roman’s Horror reminded him where they were, a realm he wasn’t really at home in. Carrie was more in her element, scarily so. She knew which of the burrows to take for the target Chamber.

Before long, they were in the Hoard Chamber and it was stunning and so neatly organized. Everything had this preserved sheen to it, both the brand new items and the vintage ones. They looked around for something to wake up Roman with, and destroy it. Carrie dreaded hurting her son like this, knowing that these were more than simple objects to him. The Bright Dream, however, was gleeful and spoiled for choice.

She winced and grabbed something and Vic’s arm. They were to find the chamber that looked like the Marketplace from there, destroy it, and take a gateway out there. As soon as something was held, a lethargic growl shook the halls.

They couldn’t stop to appreciate the surreal sight when Carrie took a Br’er Bear fursuit from one of the piles and tore it apart with her estoc. Carrie knew it to be an artifact from one of the more ignoble pieces of Disney history. When reminded of the inspiration behind Splash Mountain, it made her son squirm with shame taking it from the Whites. Even if the dirt was necessary to dig up.

Despite all of this, in an instant, an ear-splitting screech was heard. It was filled with pain and fury and froze Carrie. An irrational part of her wanted to face the Horror, some fucked up sense of honor. Vic’s attempts to shake her out of it fell through. The Bright Dream’s compulsions being way too strong.

In moments, the Horror stared them down, snarling. There was no reasoning with it, no illusion of human thought, it simply wanted them to die. It took a swipe and Carrie parried and took a quick stab, almost on auto-pilot. Vic started to panic, “CARRIE. ¡DETENER! ”

After more exchanged blows and screaming from both sides, Carrie suddenly relaxed just enough to realize she was hurting her son. Again. When she grew tired, she knew Vic was casting another spell over her. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Vic carried her off and out barely before they could be licked by Roman’s flames.

The only solace for Carrie was knowing she hadn’t killed him or undid the work to break his anathema.

The plan was for Janus to have Annie wait at the marketplace to pick up the Espinoza parents once they were done. And it was Virgil’s job to make sure Roman didn’t do anything rash upon his Horror waking up.

Virgil had taken him to a safe room they all agreed to convene at, it was Ellis’s old place. Ellis had reinforced and soundproofed it with his magic over the years, making it basically a bunker. It was also good that it was roughly halfway between the Espinoza’s place and the market. It gave them the time to soften the landing ahead of them all.

As soon as his parents had destroyed something from his prized Hoard, Roman was incensed. An intensity well beyond the fury he held towards Virgil or anything in recent memory. He screamed and flailed and cried, as his eyes flared red. Roman was beyond words, growling and screeching like the monster he was. He really was a horrible monster, it was stupid to think he could pretend otherwise.

Virgil was cautious about how he restrained him. He wasn’t sure if Roman was going to have access to his atavisms, like this. Or if Roman was going to hurt himself or anyone else.

The Espinozas looked worse for wear, once they arrived. There, they immediately heard Virgil's speech mixed in with Roman's screaming, “C’mon Roman, you can pull through this. I know you’re strong enough to survive even the worst that heroes can do, let alone one who only wants to help you.”

When Virgil appeared to notice them there, he clearly fumbled to change his tack, “Because you’re an absolute piece of shit who refuses to die. You’ll survive out of spite. You can't just give the world that favor.”

As Carrie and Vic looked at their son with worry, Virgil stepped aside.

Roman thrashed about in the webs as his parents carefully approached him. Carrie was welling up, unable to get close, “Roise, I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry.”

Vic stepped closer to his son, “Te queremos mucho, Champ. I know it was hard...”

The thrashing started to slow down, Roman had nearly destroyed his voice, “N-nanay? Papa?”

Carrie stepped closer, wincing about how he flinched. Vic appeared to grow tired as he used his magic to soothe his son, it worked a little bit. It only tapped the brakes on the autonomic nervous system, in hope that his son’s mind would catch up.

Eventually, Virgil thought Roman wasn’t going to do anything and released him. Roman was immediately hugged by his parents.

The present Espinozas, simply needed to have this moment, Virgil allowed them the space.

It took a couple days for everyone to recover from that endeavor to more completely purge Steve’s grip.

There was still an air of uncertainty about Remus. His spawn didn’t relent and Roman was still in that gorged haze. He knew he needed to make himself hungrier, just in case he needed his claws and fire again.

Carrie wounding his Horror helped that along by itself. He had so much more to worry about then, than how much that whole ordeal hurt to heal from. They all did, there was a heaviness in the air as Halloween approached.

Despite Janus and Ellis’s best efforts, they never could get a bead on where Remus was. There were too many of Remus’s Horrorspawn for Carrie to effectively track her son either. On top of wanting to look forward to Halloween to celebrate instead of dread.

Roman noticed Remus had blocked off the entrance into his Lair, from the chamber they had shared, at some point. So he couldn’t find a way to contact him in the Primordial Dream.

Eventually, after enough run-ins with those things and Roman stewing about how it felt having his Horror being awakened again, his thoughts went somewhere that he was uncomfortable with. He didn’t have much time left to do it, but it was to make his own Horrorspawn.

He learned from Janus that one of their boons was making it easier to deflect anathema. Roman shivered as the phantom aches of Steve’s curse briefly came to his mind. At that point, with it gone, he understood even more why Virgil was so wary of his mother.

He didn’t realize how much mental energy he put in just to manage its effects on his life.

He wasn’t sure who he’d even pick to hold some piece of his Horror inside them, to inflict more nightmares on. He hated that the immediate choices were his own parents, they’ve already been through so much.

He had to ask Janus what to do.

Janus had told the twins a few different ways to conjure Nightmares, over their times together. Remus even shared a few with Roman, before. Janus also said they could learn new nightmares from those considered kin, mages being an example. So on their advisement, Roman went to meet Ellis.

Roman found Ellis in the library again, reading something. “Hey, are you busy?”

Ellis glared back at Roman, “What does it look like?”

“R-right. Janus said you could teach me about Nightmares.”

Ellis sighed, “Yes and no. I need time to make preparations for our Halloween operation. However, I do have a colleague better equipped to help you out with this.”

“Who?”

“Mr. Pfeifer, Virgil works for him. He’s one of those warlock colleagues of mine. I referenced them to your father, once. Let me contact him.”

Ellis pulled out a phone, “Hello. Mr. Pfeifer, are you open for a consult? Good, please come to the estate to-.”

Suddenly, a third person was in the room, startling Roman. It was probably a good thing he was too gorged to claw anyone up, let alone this guy. Ellis looked at them and rolled his eyes, muttering as he returned to his reading, “Show off.”

The stranger chuckled about that. He wore a bright smile, glasses, and had a lot of pink and light brown elements to his outfit. “Mr. Pfeifer?”

Mr. Pfeifer nodded, “Oh. You must be Roman? I guess you desire a little inspiration? I can help with that. All you have to do is ask.”

Roman stammered, “I-I didn’t say anything.”

Ellis groaned at this, only making Pfeifer laugh more. “I suppose Lo-Ellis and Vi- Val didn’t tell you much about the Arcana stuff. Well-”

“H-how do you know my-?”

Pfeifer continued, but his mouth didn’t move, speaking from inside Roman’s head, “Mind stuff is kind of my thing and Beasts are basically my beautiful planar neighbors! You can call me Milo, by the way.”

Roman stepped back and looked around himself, “The hell-?”

Ellis glared at Milo, “Sir. You already know why I asked for your attendance. Get on with it. I have delicate matters to process over here.”

Roman was suddenly more uncomfortable, knowing he was getting pried into, “How about a warning, next time!?”

Milo laughed heartily before speaking aloud again, “You really are a lot like my best hire, huh?”

Roman simply pouted and Ellis was staring daggers into that tome of his. Milo continued, “Alright, you’re lucky you have a lot I can work with in there…”

Roman shuddered, “What?”

“Notice the lack of a certain kind of insight in Disney’s Rogue’s Gallery? Believing their questionable aspects are badges of pride, justifying it just a tad too much? Even though it’s clearly leading to their failures? How do you think you can use that to your advantage out there, Jake?”

“My name’s not JAKE!”

“You’re a dragon and American too, sooo-”

Ellis grumbled, “And THERE it is.”

Roman started to realize what Milo was getting at, after a moment, “Oh. OH. You cheeky-!”

“Well?”

“I-I guess I have some ideas…”

Milo spoke inside Roman’s head again, “You can do a whole lot with that intimidating specimen. Hmmm, I wonder how many omelets you could make with five dozen eggs?”

Roman stared Milo down, deliberately thinking, “Great. Now I’m thinking about Mom’s cooking…”

Milo laughed and answered aloud, “Looks like you got a good one lined up there, I knew you could do it! I’d love for a follow-up later.”

Milo looked down at his watch, “Oh my ears and whiskers, how late it’s getting!”

Ellis piped up, “Are you quite done?”

Milo nodded at them both, with a more serious expression, “Oh and good luck with the Remus situation. Adieu.”

In a blink, Milo vanished. Leaving Roman to remember how worried he was getting for his brother.

There was a long silence, as Roman tried to process what happened. He had more in his arsenal, the next step was where to use it. Who to use it on.

Ellis stopped reading, looked at Roman, and took a deep breath, “I’m supposing you didn’t miss him almost spilling our True Names?”

“I-I was kind of wondering about that too.”

“Know that if we can’t destroy this threat, we’ll need to at least seal it away. I am nearing the end of those preparations. I think you will be needing mine, and you have permission to share this with your parents. No one else, understand?”

Roman nodded.

“It’s Logan. Sumner.”

Roman snorted, “So. I can call you Nerdy Wolverine, then?”

Logan groaned, “I imagine you will even if I told you no. Given what we’re facing here – I have more important things to be concerned with.”

“Wait, what do you mean sealing?”

“We’re going to need some objects to serve as reliquaries, as there is some documentation on addressing Insatiables in that way. Plural, just in case.”

“Can they be anything?”

“Presumably.”

Roman went on to discuss some of his ideas with Logan. “… and a jar of dirt? Oh well, I’ll take it on board. Oh, and I want to make it clear that I’m also worried about your brother’s wellbeing, too.”

Roman smiled slightly at that, “Thanks.”

Roman visited the Disneyland Park about two weeks before Halloween. Partly to find some solace. Partly to memorize the layout again, to prepare for what may happen. Partly to find potential incubators. He just had to find someone he could stomach doing that to.

The park entrance already had some festive decorations. The line going out into the esplanade was really long and it wasn’t even an hour past opening time for Guests. It was a weekend Carrie had off, and she insisted on coming along with him.

Roman would be annoyed, if not for his peace of mind too.

So there they were in line, there was a woman with a stroller past the person right in front of them. She also had a child, maybe Patton’s age, to her side. The children took her attention away from the line a few times, leaving enough space for a pair of young men to cut in front of this lady.

She didn’t seem to notice, neither did Carrie, but Roman certainly did.

Roman told her, “Will you keep my spot, Mom? I think I recognize those guys from high school…”

Roman didn’t really tell her that third reason he wanted to come here.

Carrie narrowed her eyes a bit, “Sure. But I AM watching you.”

This was totally for that lady’s honor and rightful place in line. Not because Roman took the thought of waiting even longer to actually get in the park personally. Roman definitely wasn’t being petty.

Roman first went for one of the guys that looked like he was just following the other. He seemed a little less sure about the stunt they pulled, even more so as Roman approached them. Roman could smell some anxiety coming from him. Roman smiled. “My, do you look familiar! Remember me?”

“Uh, no?”

“Does the name Isaac ring any bells?”

“Not really?”

The other guy, pretended to look like this was always his spot in line and was annoyed with Roman butting in. He looked at the first guy, “Dash, who are you talking too?”

Dash shrugged, “This guy says he’s Isaac. Do we know any Isaacs?”

Roman piped up overly cheery, “I think you were on the football team, right? I was one of the band guys.”

The line took a few steps forward, as Dash narrowed his eyes at Roman. and then at his friend, “You buy that, Kwan?”

Kwan crossed his arms, scowling at Roman, “You know what? I don’t think I do. The fuck is your angle, man?”

“Oh, fine. You got me. You don’t know me. I’m just gonna say it was really clever of you two taking advantage of a distraction like that! And all you did with that was jump the line. How droll.”

Roman’s eyes flickered red as he stared into Dash and then Kwan’s eyes, pulling them into the same nightmare, smiling eerily.

They were pulled into a tavern, more worn in and dreary than in the movie. The taxidermied trophies were more fantastical and horrifying - dragons, griffons, harpies. The trophy chair was made from dragon hide and so was the rug. There were suspicious splatters of blood in various spots of the venue. The patrons took the facsimiles of the crowd in the real world. Even a few confused looking children.

But what immediately struck terror in those two is how their bodies and mouths were forced to re-enact the scene Roman was pulling. Kwan was Gaston and Dash was Lefou. As Kwan shifted this way and that in the seat, some of its scales sheared off into his shirt collar. As the performance started to get violent – Kwan had taken a disturbing amount of glee in beating the shit out of his presumed friend. Dash just smiled along and sang praises, as blood oozed out of his mouth.

It was all a very grim and uncanny scene. The lyrics were a distorted parody and personalized to these two troublemakers’ “values”. Dash was totally elsewhere when he got crushed by that chair, munching pieces of that rug in the process. He was laughing like a fool as his “friend” smiled down approvingly at him.

As the nightmare took hold, Kwan barked an order at Dash, “Hey! This crone and brat were small fry. We totally could hop those fucking turnstiles.”

Kwan smiled and stammered, “Sure thing, boss!”

Roman tried not to laugh as the predictable happened – them getting pulled aside by security to be disciplined. The woman they cut in front of was utterly baffled as Roman let her through with a bow.

He rejoined Carrie, who knew exactly what Roman just did. Roman flinched when she stage-whispered, “Roman. Isaac. Espinoza. What did you do!?”

Roman whispered into her ear what he did and why. She deeply sighed, “… If all of this wasn’t for Remus, I would probably have you by the ear and shipped home for that, mister.”

Roman sighed with relief, as they made their way into the park.

He felt a heaviness inside his Lair before long, he managed to do it. It was strangely distracting, as he was trying to take in the whole park again. He was kind of scared of checking on it later.

He at least had the presence of mind to grab a park map and schedule along the way.

Roman hesitated to check on his own spawn when he got back from the trip to Disneyland.

He lasted only a day before he got too restless and worried about them being reincorporated.

He used the portal in his bedroom again to get into the Lair. He went to his Hoard chamber, where he knew where the nest was. He passed by the Magic Mirror and noticed his draconic form inside there had a few scars – one across his left jowl and few on both his forelimbs. He gave a low growl, lowering and shaking his head, his thoughts melancholic, “I guess there’s no forgetting what led to all of this.”

After a continued scan, Roman saw a nest made of Disney plushies and themed blankets. It held a pair of his own eggs. He stepped closer, they were pearl-white, with red and gold freckling all over their surface. They looked more like bird eggs than lizard eggs, even though he wasn’t as avid about biology as his dad and brother were. He heard the shape prevented them from rolling away too far.

He cautiously approached the eggs, lightly tapping one with one of his claws. The shells were hard enough that he felt comfortable with the urge to nestle up to them and warm them. It was almost instinctual.

They truly were pieces of him, he started to understand what Remus was going on about.

A distant part of his mind bothered him. The part that looked at the monster he was, disturbed by all the new things he was learning about what he was. Here though? It was barely even a whisper.

When his whole self was within the Lair, he knew he could protect his creations.

The next week seemed to fly by for Roman. He visited his Lair, practically every other day, and time just seemed to stop and a lot of his other worries did, too.

That didn’t stop his parents from getting worried and the mixed responses from the rest of the Brood. Apparently, he was acting strange to them. He was elsewhere, distantly recognizing that this behavior might have looked a little too much like Remus just before he left them all. Not long after that car accident.

Roman vaguely remembered downplaying it to them. At least Janus and Virgil left it alone, once they knew what he was doing. Logan and Vic seemed to be mildly intrigued. Patton followed him around more, whenever they were at the estate together.

Time inexorably marched on until eventually, when Roman returned to his Lair, he saw the spawn starting to hatch. He was so excited to see them emerge! They were fully formed, tiny drakes that made Roman make this strange rumbling purring noise at how they looked. He was taken by surprise by how adorable they looked, precociously galloping and gliding about inside his Lair.

One was a little more red and the other was a little more gold. Roman held the names Rubí and Oro, for them.

They were ready to debut into the real world.

Feel free to ask to be on a tag list, if you wish!

(I’ll probably tag every other cross-post.)

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#spilled musing #sanders sides #begotten au #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders

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blzzrdstryr · 3 years

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Hi! If it's doesn't bother you may I request diluc,amber,zhongli and ganyu with their darling died during child birth but as a the child grow up their the exact copy cat of their mother ?

Starring: Amber, Diluc, Ganyu, Zhongli

CW: Death, yandere

Amber

Amber is distraught by the whole ordeal, the realization of your death finally sinking in months after it happened. She just can’t believe it at first, even denying the notion of any harm coming to you, and desperately repeating to herself that everything is fine and you’re still alive.

“You need to travel far, far away and you will eventually return” is what she will tell to herself, spending her days between attending her duties as the sole scout of knights of Favonius and being a single parent. All the words of condolences and pitiful gazes will be either ignored or met with faux confusion, until she comes to accept that you died.

She will collapse then, overcome with grief and self-hatred, the mask that she has been wearing all this time finally slipping and cracking into a thousand pieces, as the full blown hysteria takes over her. Amber will loudly cry on the floor, deaf and blind to the outside world, as her heart processes emotions she kept bottled up for so long.

She will quickly recover, remembering that she has a child to care for. She will be mostly a good, understanding mother, cherishing the kid both as the product of your shared love and the last thing she has left of you. It’s highly unlikely that Amber will restrict the child in some major way, except for rare times their face and voice remind her so much of you, her heart is at the verge of bursting. She will be overcomed by the sudden protective and strict episode, for which she will apologize later.

Diluc

Diluc already has trouble processing his own emotions and your death will only exacerbate this problem. He will shut off from the world upon hearing the dreadful news, scarlet eyes unfocused, as his mind races for the possible explanation.

Why did you die? Didn’t he hire the best medics and doctors? Didn’t he monitor the entirety of your pregnancy? Didn’t he spend a fortune to provide you with the best care he could find? So why did you die?

People like to shift the blame in hard situations, even if there’s no one to blame in the first place, and Diluc is no exception. For a single moment he will feel so much hatred for his newborn child he will start seeing red. This feeling, however, will soon melt and vanish as he will take the infant into his hands, a wave of self-loathing crushing him for just feeling this way towards his child. Your child.

Now with no one to blame, a new thought will appear in Diluc’s head - that he's the one at fault, that it's him who put a child in you, which led to your ultimate demise. He wants to crumble this same second, yet he stops, remembering that he has a child.

Diluc will constantly switch between being the main caretaker and having the kid watched by the multiple maids, while he's away or simply busy with winery business. He wants to be always there for his child, yet sometimes they look so much alike to you, he has to take a step back, lest a wave of grief consume him. Diluc will definitely be an overprotective, strict dad who babies his kid, especially if they inherited not only your face but character too.

Ganyu

Ganyu is very shocked when she learns of your sudden death. She will immediately blame herself for this - adepti blood is a heavy burden, and maybe her being half qilin is what killed you.

Ganyu you will request a leave from her job, to collect her thoughts and spend time with the baby. She lived such a long life, witnessing the archon war and working as Qixing secretary for countless generations, yet this is something totally unexpected.

Ganyu will try to look after the baby, the key word here being "try" as she finds herself very unfamiliar with what she should do next. Her biological "clocks" will also pose a problem for her, as after living in a very strict schedule for such a long time Ganyu finds it extra hard to adapt to the baby's regime, sometimes unable to wake up in the middle of the night at the sounds of their scream.

Ganyu will also feel a certain guilt for bringing the child into this world - she is half human and half adeptus, someone who has never felt welcomed in either of worlds, and she fears that her child will experience the same heartache.

Zhongli

Zhongli is also stunned, but he regains his composure the quickest. An outsider might even think he feels nothing for you, as he calmly asks to see the baby, yet it’s far from the truth. Zhongli is just too hardened by the passing time to break here and now.

He will gently grasp the infant, marveling at the mix of the divine and mortal, his and yours. The reverence he held for you will be shifted towards the child, as he views them as some kind of miracle.

Zhongli will personally oversee the child all the time, yet he will also ask some of his adepti to keep an eye on the kid, lest any harm comes to them.

They will grow up amidst the peaks of Juyeun Karst, as even with the mixed blood they're still pretty strong and will need all the help they can get in controlling and embracing their powers. Adepti will most likely humour and entertain the kid out of their loyalty and sympathy, so the child will grow up surrounded by love, care and attention.

This harmonious picture will be shattered when the child will decide to explore the world and see other nations, as Zhongli can be a very strict and overprotective parent. He will restrict and confine them in Liyue if it means they get to be safe.

#yandere genshin impact #Yandere Amber #Yandere Diluc #Yandere Zhongli #Yandere Ganyu #Female yandere #Male yandere #Platonic yandere #yandere imagines #genshin impact

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curiosity-killed · 3 years

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Lang Qianqiu deserves more love goddammit: a post, unfortunately

This brought to you by the wonderful @veliseraptor & @/yuer on Twitter but also mostly out of spite and the fact that it’s preventing me from writing a very dumb poke-the-bear post abt the entire weird social media culture around The Minors

As always ✨SPOILERS!! SPOILERS EVERYWHERE✨

So first off: when I hit the scene where lqq confronts xl and screams “I will never be like you” I sat up in bed, did a little shimmy of delight, and hissed “fuck yes” at like 2 AM so. Now you have a preview of wtf this train wreck will be

1 ) lqq is a good character

We don’t get a ton of time with lqq because tgcf is 87 side characters running across stage with The Most Interesting Concept constantly one-upping each other before vanishing. But what we do get is, I think, enough to make a pretty compelling story: Lang Qianqiu is a kind and generous prince who is also the sole survivor of the bloody massacre of his entire family, committed by the people dearest to him (both in his belief that Gusohi Fangxin did it and in the reality of An Le’s involvement), who goes on to peacefully lead his fractious nation into a peaceful reign before he ascends as a powerful enough (aka beloved and worshipped enough) god to be ranked among the top heavenly generals. That’s like. Pretty fucking classic protagonist vibes right there.

And, as usual with mxtx’s characters, we get a lot more than this lovely little backstory. In his interactions in canon, lqq is capable of great grief and anger; he is willing to sacrifice himself if it means avenging his murdered family; and he simultaneously holds both great hatred and great respect for his old teacher. And, of course, he winds up raising and taking care of his enemy’s son which shows a remarkable depth of compassion and emotional messiness that I find terribly compelling. He struggles with a simplistic view of justice that is supported by lies told to “protect” him and that is uprooted by the truth and forces him to try to make sense of the world without the guardrails that others installed around him (looking at you mister fangxin sir).

Also I’m stealing my own tweets bc I’m Right but:

*pulls up single barstool to lqq is a good character table* I think it’s interesting & Says Things abt the continued relationship btwn lqq & xl that lqq *didn’t* recognize xl, implying that he left fangxin’s mask in place even when he went to kill him

Like here is the man who killed his family & best friend, who left him abandoned in bloodshed on his 17th bday—& here is also the man who saved his life, who taught him, who lqq looked up to & wanted to be like

Even when lqq *does* recognize xl, he still has so much respect for him paired with that hatred that it’s honestly rlly tragic? Like man. There’s so much grief in lqq’s repeated demands for a duel & insisting it’s fine if xl kills him as long as he doesn’t hold back

*pats lqq pompom* this bb is so sad. And so much more like his teacher than either of them seem to realize or necessarily want

Despite being a pretty minor character, lqq gets a lot of complexity and nuance! Look at this child trying to be grown up while desperately turning to his old master for guidance and “the truth”! Look at him! Be sad!!

2 ) lqq is an excellent parallel to xl

Okay stealing my own tweet again don’t look at me I yell the same shit everywhere

Xl didn’t want lqq to become like him (self-sacrificing, vengeful, alone) but lqq not only became alone, chasing vengeance, & willing to sacrifice himself for revenge—he also became kind, open-minded, & remorseful!! & he still clearly respects xl @ novel end 🙃🙃

We all know hc’s “they’re not very alike at all” and yeah sure baby go support your man but narratively, there’s a lot of importance given to cycles, parallels, and foils in mxtx’s writing and most explicitly (compared to mdzs, haven’t read svss) in tgcf. For example, *gestures at beefleaf, gestures at Xianle Trio vs Wuyogn Crew, gestures at Xie Lian & Jun Wu’s whole uh. Deal.* And while I’d argue xl and lqq are part of a triumvirate rather than a pair, we’re not including mister three-face in this conversation so just looking at xl and lqq:

Both adored and sheltered crown princes

Both taught by a guoshi who was seeking to prevent the repetition of their own tragedies and in their efforts, lied/omitted information and failed to protect their charge from tragedy

Both were betrayed* by their closest friends

Both are the last living members of their respective royal families

Both caught the interest of supernatural beings from a young age

Etc etc I’m getting v bored and distracted writing this so moving on

Most importantly to me, we have their betrayal by a very close and adored mentor and how they react. The confrontation I mention at the start of this shitshow is really imo one of the most important scenes in the novel because it a) illustrates the differences in xl and Jun Wu and b) sort of gives you a preview of how xl ultimately wins

So a) Jun Wu and Xie Lian both take a talented, marked-for ascension young prince under their wing. Jun Wu sees himself in the boy and obsesses over shaping him into Jun Wu’s own image in the belief that this will make him the perfect heir. Jun Wu pushes his chosen heir into situations where Xie Lian is repeatedly harmed in an effort to show that the common people are fickle and cruel and don’t deserve his compassion and care.

Meanwhile, Xie Lian is reluctantly roped into mentoring his prince due to his inability to stand aside when he feels he could do something to prevent hurt or injustice befalling another (simultaneously his great strength and great weakness! God I love him). Xie Lian tries to teach his student to believe in and care for the common people and not to sacrifice himself (see: flashback convo re:taking the force of the sword strike into his own body).

When Xie Lian refuses to bend in the shape Jun Wu demands, Jun Wu bashes his head into the wall. When Lang Qianqiu cries “I will never be like you!”, Xie Lian laughs and says “Good!”.

B) this of course feeds directly into foreshadowing! Like Lang Qianqiu’s bold words, xl ultimately refuses to become like his mentor and remains defiant even when it would stop him from being hurt. Xl beats lqq and says so what if I tricked you, so what if I lied, I still won. Naturally, xl beats Jun Wu not through standard swordplay but by using a trick he learned while forced to busk and wander the earth alone and unlucky for centuries.

…okay so I have fully forgotten what I was actually saying here! Anyway!

Like Xie Lian, Lang Qianqiu spends a time consumed with the need for vengeance, hunting his enemy and rejecting the heavens. And like Xie Lian, he winds up caring for his enemy’s “son” and trying to both comfort him and maintain what’s left of Qi Rong’s life force despite having previously been hellbent on destroying him—bc he sees the impact it has on another person. In the end, he even gives a gift to Xie Lian—his mentor, his role model, and the one who killed his father—that was once given to him as a symbol of unexpected kindness. Sound familiar?

But, importantly, and contradictory to what I have been yelling abt but whatever it’s 12:30 am, Lang Qianqiu is not a direct mirror of Xie Lian but a closing of a vital loop in the story. Lqq is very similar to xl (I will die on this hill!! Only I won’t bc I’m stronger than y’all and will keep swinging these pots and pans) but bc xl tries to do better and keep lqq from suffering the way xl has, lqq is able to have a gentler and more optimistic path forward. He’s proof that even a small act of kindness or even kindness to only one person still matters and has a ripple effect that can’t be seen when you’re in the middle of it—a thread started with xl giving the coral pearl to Lang Ying and closed with Lang Qianqiu returning the pearl to Xie Lian.

So I have no idea if any of this is coherent or compelling but I meant to be asleep two hours ago and the points are:

A) Lang Qianqiu is good actually

B) parallels!!!

C) look ive already started another wip about Lang Qianqiu and Xie Lian and I didn’t want this but no one else wrote it so now I have to so pls just accept this as a warning

*sort of air quotes around this for Xie Lian bc frankly Mu Qing was right & Xie Lian kicked feng xin out BUT on the other hand, it was experienced as a betrayal and we also again have all of Jun Wu’s shit so it evens out

#should I wait and proofread and edit this tomorrow? yes.#am I doing that? no <3 #idk what to tag this as #uhhh #tgcf spoilers #lang qianqiu #I don’t think this can reasonably be called meta #since I am unsure if it is even readable #tgcf #long post

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sunlightheidi · 3 years

Text

Jihyun Kim "V" x Reader/MC

AU Fantasy, written for the Mystic Dance Event, hosted by the lovely @little-butterfly-writes. Roles provided, "Princess x Court Painter".

"I'll meet you in the forest, let's let this wild thing grow."

- Forest, Fancy Hagood

Jihyun was chosen from a neighboring kingdom to paint the royal family.

It was an honor, to be selected as the court artist; for his art to hang on the palace walls alongside portraits of previous kings and queens.

There are countless tales told throughout the kingdoms; stories of the ruthless king who commanded the armies, of the regal queen who could turn men into stone with a simple look.

And of the stoic crowned princess, who possessed the ethereal beauty of the fae, and the same coldness too.

He’s painted that captivating beauty on canvas more than once; has traced the dip of your collarbone, the fullness of your lips, the almond shape of your eyes with his paintbrush so many times he can do it from memory alone.

You are always seated on that golden throne when he does, decorated in sapphires and dressed in layers of silk and lace – always watching him with a sort of fascination as he paints, a sparkling wonder in your gaze.

You sit on that throne now, your head held high, waves of black hair falling down your back, and a crown of rowan berries on your brow. Your dress is golden, accentuating the sun-touched colors of your skin and the darkness of your eyes as they roam over the ballroom to the people dancing and celebrating the return of autumn.

There is a sort of hypnotic magic about you and he sees it perfectly then, how you truly could have been fairy in a past life; sparkling wings on your back, adorned in colors of orange and red and yellow as you sat on a throne of marigolds and ruled over the autumn court.

Perhaps you may have even allowed yourself to dance amongst your folk, lost in the addicting taste of pomegranates as you moved freely to the wild music.

But that is not who you are now. Not who are you expected to be.

You do not partake in the autumn celebration with your people, you are not allowed to laugh and dance in the way he knows you desire to. In the way you have so freely danced and laughed by his side in hidden corridors.

Your only purpose is to serve your kingdom, and outside of your clandestine meetings with him, you play your role flawlessly. No one would dare suggest otherwise.

If only they knew the restlessness that lingers in your heart. The same kind and wild heart you have given to him– a secret belonging to you both alone.

The music ends and you clap gently in your lap, almost unconsciously, as most of your mannerisms are – but your eyes are dazed, he knows your thoughts are elsewhere.

He has been hounded by daydreams of you as well, wishes he could stand in front of that throne and take your hand as an equal; to lead you to the ballroom floor and hold you in his arms as you sway together, just as you have done many times before in the dark.

The orchestra begins to play a new piece, something slow and soft that echoes through the ballroom; the chandeliers shimmer from the high ceiling as partners retake their place and begin a new dance.

Carefully, as to not draw attention to yourself, you stand, hands gripping the skirts of your dress as you curtsey to the king and queen, who briefly nod in your direction in permission to take your leave. He follows you with his eyes as you walk down the steps of the podium and to the large entryway, but something catches his attention – a golden satin ribbon, left behind on the seat of your throne.

You have played this game before, he knows what the token means; and when he looks up, in a single moment that freezes time, you look over your shoulder and meet his gaze. He nods in understanding, and there’s a sparkle in your eye as you close the doors behind you.

He wants to run after you, to spin you around in his arms and declare his fidelity to you in front of the world. But you are a princess…and he is only the court painter – the consequences should anyone discover you two together, of the things you have done under secrecy, would end in tragedy.

So he waits, and when the kingsmen turn to assist their majesties to the ballroom floor, Jihyun slips through the entryway and weaves down dark corridors and forgotten doors.

He is lost in a haze to get to you, has waited eagerly for weeks to spend time with you, and not the person you pretend to be for everyone else. He wants your silly laughter and teasing smiles, your fondness for flowers and furry forest creatures.

In an unlit corner of an unused passageway, there is a door that blends into the stone of the walls, it is not easily seen in the dark, but Jihyun knows exactly where it is and how to twist the lock to the room that has become his haven.

He steps through the low archway and closes the door behind him, feels a sort of relief when he turns to find you watching him.

It is indescribable, how painfully beautiful you are illuminated by the candlelight – woven in golden and waiting for him.

He bows, deeply. “Princess.”

And then, the respectable haze you have found yourselves in for weeks vanishes.

In an instant, you wrench yourself forward into him, tackling him into something fierce. He grasps you, cradling you safely in his arms as you wiggle in your happiness.

“Jihyun,” you whisper against his chest, nose buried in the hilt of his tailcoat. “I was afraid you would not come.”

He pushes you back, enough to look into your eyes and trace the outline of your cheekbone with his thumb. “Of course I came. I cannot deny you a single thing, nor do I wish to.”

“I did not think I would have the time to slip by their attention tonight, I am eternally grateful their minds are elsewhere.”

“Do you need to get back?” he asks, wrapping his arms around your waist; already dreading having to part.

“Not yet, not so soon.” You reach for him, stand on the tip of your toes and brush your lips against his in the softest of kisses. “I have missed you terribly.”

“As have I, darling,” he whispers against your mouth. “I have to stop myself constantly from reaching for you in the hallways.”

An impish smile graces your lips, sly and conniving. He imagines this must be how the fae tempt humans into their world.

“You are certainly free to touch me now, in whatever way you desire.”

He catches up quickly, as he tightens the hold on your waist and brings his lips to yours – warm breath and honey taste – soft and slow, memorizing every part of this moment.

He rubs small circles on your back just above your waist, feeling the silky material of your dress as you put your arms around his neck, bringing him in as close as you possibly can. And when you pull back to catch your breath, you smile at him slyly, all hooded eyes and flushed cheeks, bottom lip between your teeth.

“Pray tell, you wicked thing. What enchantment have you placed on me?”

A soft laugh, no more than an exhale, ghosts across the side of his neck, raising goosebumps across his skin. You stand so close he can smell the sweetness of the roses pressed onto your skin, the floral scent instantly hauling him back to an afternoon in the court gardens, where you hid behind large rose bushes and he pressed you against the grass and kissed you until sundown.

“It was the pomegranate seeds I fed to you in the garden” you whisper, playfully. “It was faerie food, meant to entrap you to my side for the rest of your days.”

“You could have simply asked me,” he replies. “My answer would have been yes.”

Your eyes go soft, but sparkle suddenly in the way they do when you decide to be cheeky. “But that would be a waste of a perfectly ripe pomegranate, do you not agree?”

He bites at the pout of your lip in reprimand, feeling satisfied with the redness there when he pulls back. “Do you truly have a response for everything?”

“I thought you liked my mouth,” you say, just a fraction shy and very much teasing as your hands wonder down his chest.

“I do, it’s perfectly sweet.” His hand firmly cradles your chin and he leans in until your breath is upon his lips. “Do not divert, my dove. Will you share with me what has been on your mind tonight? You have been on a cloud all evening.”

Your eyes open in surprise, but smile softly at him as he holds your face between his hands. His thumb traces your berry lips and your eyes flutter shut in resignation.

“I have tried, for a very long time, to find dignity in my role.” He notes the softness of your voice, mixed in with the bitter resentment he’s only caught glimpses of before. When your eyes flutter open, there is sadness. “I have found nothing, and I am tired of it all. I do not know who I am beyond what I’m told to be, and I do not care for it any longer. I wish to please only you.”

Your eyes are suddenly and incredibly soft as they hold onto his, your fingertips tracing his hipbones, moving up his abdomen. He brushes a gentle stroke of his lip against yours, flashing loving eyes as if to say what neither of you has found the courage to admit yet.

“You have shone light upon my dreams, Jihyun. But there is no room for you in my life, and you deserve to be with someone that will not be a threat to your own.”

He is hardly ever angry; he finds he does not care much for such emotions. But in this moment, he feels an inexplicable sadness and fear that you will disappear before he has the chance to tell you how truly his life belongs to you.

“Should you wish to end things with me, I will retreat immediately without a word and pretend nothing has happened. But do not make decisions for me. I wish to be with you, in whatever manner possible. If these meetings are all that I will ever have, then I will have this over nothing.”

Light laughter erupts from your throat and you quickly slip one hand from his chest to muffle the unexpected sound. Tears spring from your eyes at last, a blend of humor and grief.

“I wish I could kiss you and make you king.”

He gently takes hold of your soft hands, engulfing them in his calloused ones. He notices the pleasant shiver that runs up your spine at the intimate gesture.

“I do not want to be king, I just want to be with you,” he admits.

You are quiet for a long time, contemplative. He brushes tendrils of your hair off your shoulder, feels your collarbones beneath his fingertips.

“We are in love, aren’t we?” You whisper, and there’s a sort of hesitancy there, as if you have only just realized what this could mean for both of you – the inevitable heartbreak that is destined.

From the very moment your worlds collided – he knew he would fall in love with you. And as he has come to know you – eyes alive like wildflowers and smiles that carry sunshine – he dreams of nothing more than to meet his fate by your side.

“I love you, with everything that I possess.”

“Then run away with me,” you plead, putting yourself nose to nose with him, his blue wisps of hair against your forehead. “Let’s go to another land. Somewhere far away where we can be close to an ocean and have a garden of roses.”

“Your father will send kingsmen after us,” he warns quietly, stoic beneath your hands, hesitant to reciprocate. “He will not be merciful.”

You shake your head fiercely, speak one last offer of clarity. “My father cares not for what may happen to me, he never has. He has two more children he can crown.”

“If you are sure about this, I believe King Han may grant us sanctuary should we reach his borders. I have known him since we were children, and Jumin can be ruthless, but he is fair. Though I must warn you, once we reach his castle, your title will be stripped.”

“I do not want to be a princess, I just want you,” you whisper and lean into him, press a breeze of a kiss to the corner of his mouth, another against his jawline. “Promise you will meet me at midnight, out in the forest.”

The sweetness of you has long burned away his fear, and in its place a mellow kind of anticipation has taken hold. He takes your hand in his and brings it up to his lips.

“As you wish,” he mumbles against your palm and you giggle joyfully before you throw your arms around his neck.

And for everything he believes in, your face is as precious as all the jewels and gemstones of any kingdom; it is the smile you grace him with upon his yes, shining with the power of a thousand suns, that confirm he has found the world’s greatest fortune.

#I was so hesitant to post this #but fuck it #here it is #enjoy #jihyun kim #jihyun kim x reader #mystic messenger #v mysme #v route #v mysme fanfic #v mysme x reader #v mystic messenger #Jihyun Kim fanfic #Jihyun Kim mysme #Jihyun Kim mystic messenger #period/fantasy au #the mystic dance #mint palace ball

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