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dmwrites · 4 months

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2023 fic roundup! Thanks for reading my stuff this year!

Below is all of the fic links, summaries, and any additional notes (in chronological order) from yours truly:)

NPC Bdubs: an in-game explanation to why Bdubs didn’t upload his Limited Life pov- Cleo notices that Bdubs is acting a little weird, almost like some kind of non-playable character.

The Coral Kids’ Keeper: Martyn and Scott live out on a island on the sea on the Limited Life server, and a sea creature that calls himself xbcrafted take interest in them. He protects them. He is here to protect them, right? (Dm note: oh my goddd I love this one still I love the horror at the end [I may just be biased to xb tbh lol])

Impulse’s post-death affirmation: Impulse got second place in Limited Life, and Skizz is so proud of him.

Clock Full of Love: Impulse gave Bdubs a clock in the beginning of Limited Life. At the end, Cleo adds her own touch to it.

Grian and Scar’s punishment: It all started when Grian and Scar touched his (Doc’s) redstone (tunnel bore). Their punishment? Zombiecleo scolding them.

Talks of Adoration on the Tower of Team TIES: Etho and Impulse have more in common then they think, and reflect on it all one sleepless night in the Team TIES base

Big and Handsome God Has A Big Sad: the empires s2 server can’t be empty, right? Sure, Joel hasn’t seen anyone in forever, but people still love him, surely, right? They wouldn’t all leave him. They wouldn’t. Right? (Dm note: this idea wasn’t executed as well as I would have liked, but I really like the crumbling reality vibes of this one)

Cuddling with the Homies: Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Skizz playing Sons of the Forest. They get one tiny-ass tent to all sleep in. It’s if the “only one bed” trope was four dudes being idiots in the woods in a tent.

I know how to keep you warm;)): the new life smp folks wonder if Chillager Martyn will freeze up if he gets flustered. Scott is up to the task. It’s all silly.

Copper Pearlo takes on The Button (2): Grian and Mumbo stumble upon copper golem Pearl

One Year Later: Double Life ended one year ago (when I posted this fic lol). Impulse makes Bdubs another clock

The CuteGuy Who Stepped Up: Scar needs a CuteGuy sidekick, and Grian does not want to be a sidekick in the slightest. Enter Joe Hills from Nashville, Tennessee. (Dm note: the CuteGuy main character was decided by a poll. This is also my second most-liked fic of 2023)

The Slime Code: Gem is a slime in New Life! She calls Jevin on Hermitcraft to ask about any slime rules she now needs to follow

A Dream of Pink: Joel has a dream of showing a pretty girl with pink hair (who roasts him) his hardcore world builds. She seems familiar…

3rd Life x NightVale: the radio transcript when Cecil Palmer from the town of NightVale interviews a strange man with a red sweater and split knuckles and keeps talking about something that happened in a desert. (Dm note: love this one, definitely caters to a very specific audience, but this one shows up in my notifs almost every day. I think I did a good job at the ad breaks and such.)

Sacrificial Impulse: Grian, Scar, and Skizz died while hunting ghosts with Impulse. Impulse wants to bring them back, no matter the cost. Also, EvilNotion is the ghost hunters’ boss.

xB’s Revenge- a Blood on the Clocktower story: based on the first session of hermitcraft’s BOTC, Iskall accuses xbcrafted of being the demon, and xB becomes the first innocent to die. But xB sticks around after death, and wants the sweetest revenge on Iskall. (Dm note: this one is long as hell but man the concept was so good. Drowned!xb is so good.)

Bdoubledown? How Cute: a brief conversation between Impulse and Skizz about Impulse’s brand new soulmate in Double Life

GIGS gets another G: Gem is jealous that Grian, Impulse, Scar, and Skizz are hunting ghosts, and wants to join in. Pearl, local odd woman, has a way. Possession is fun among friends! (Dm note: this is the most liked fic of this year, which is definitely not what I expected lol)

The Dungeon Is Hungry: Hypno thinks all the superstitions around the Decked Out 2 dungeon are stupid. That is until everything goes sideways and Cub is covered in sculk and pointing a sword at him down in level 4.

The Impossible Task: Martyn gets a very simple, two-word task in Secret Life: find RenTheDog. But Ren isn’t here… right? (Dm note: when I thought of this idea I literally said “ouch!” in my head lol)

GIGGS Hunts a Ghost!: the GIGGS crew gets called on by Zedaph to find and capture evidence of a ghost he claims he has seen haunting hermitcraft. (Dm note: the b-plot grian and zed rivalry is so funny to me idk why I decided they hate each other lolll)

A Moment of Peace: Martyn and Cleo are estranged soulmates in Double Life, and they take a moment to drink some tea and talk about what soulmate they’d like to have if they had a choice.

It Feels Different Now (and that’s a good thing): Pearl has to hurt people on the Secret Life server as part of her task, but she takes no joy in it now. She harkens back to what has changed between Double Life and now.

Jimmy’s Grave: Cleo made Jimmy a grave before he died in Secret Life. He did end up dying that very day, and a mourner comes by his grave when it’s all said and done.

Red: Pearl’s favorite color is red. She is made to be a red name, even when she’s not.

Becoming the Villain of the Server: (secret life) Scar digs up Jimmy’s grave to take his spine, to sell it to Joel, pretending that it’s Lizzie’s. Hey, what else is a man to do? (Dm note: this one fucks so hard, i love how fucked up the idea of it is, what Scar would have to do to make it happen. Eating this.)

From One Lonely Winner to Another: Scar wins Secret Life. Sunflowers grow from his skin to be with him as he goes to succeed the final task. (Dm note: another one I love, I just love the aesthetic of it all.)

#seriously thank you #I honestly can’t believe anyone reads my stuff at all #it’s been so fun and rewarding #here’s to another year of putting blorbos into situations

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disco-elysium-via-polls · 1 month

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🎵 Disco Elysium

2. "Absolutely. Superstars always get back up and try again."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Then let's go."

-1 Reputation

Painted with pastels. Someone is trying to bring cheer into the world.

ACELE - "So, like..." The girl on the ice looks up at you. "Seriously, what's eating you, man?"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - There is a hint of pity in her eyes.

PERCEPTION [Easy: Success] - Her hair is dyed blonde, with dark roots showing, and she wears thick black eye-liner. Most men wouldn't call her pretty -- there is a manliness to her. A coarseness.

"Yeah, can we talk for a minute?"

"What's your name?"

"What's that device you have there?"

"What are you doing out here in the cold?"

"You seem surprisingly comfortable with being questioned. Why's that?"

"Actually, that's it for now." [Leave.]

ACELE - "I was wondering when you would come around. What's up?"

"I guess... there is something... that's been making my life hell."

ACELE - "What is it?" She listens intently.

"I think it's the plight of the working class."

"Everyone's just mooching off the entrepreneurial class. Shackling the *doers*."

"I think it's… all these *foreign people* taking our jobs."

"People just keep putting their selfish interests ahead of the greater good."

+1 Communism

ACELE - "Oh, really?"

"The golem of capital runs rampant, smashing creator and slave alike. I fear the process is irreversible."

ACELE - "So, the thing that's got you crying in front of strangers... is social justice?"

"I haven't seen much of this world, but from what I've seen *social justice* is an adolescent term. Sounds almost liberal… what's got me shaken up is the *people's struggle* and it's got me shaken up *bad*."

"No, that's probably not it, is it?"

"Yeah, pretty sure. Now, I had some questions about something else entirely."

ACELE - "Yeah, man, they're pretty bad," she says, without much conviction.

"It makes me sick, thinking about the thousands... millions... billions? How many people are there, actually?"

ACELE - "Um..."

"How many people are there in the world?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "Three-point-six billion, not counting those on Seol."

"Really? That many?! Reduces me to tears thinking of the 3.6 billion and god knows how many more in that Seol place, crushed under the tyranny of the market."

ACELE - "Yeah, that's pretty bad," she nods. "Are you sure you're not just hung up on some chick though?"

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Hmmm... *perhaps*?

"Now that you mention it, I found these letters I'd thrown in the trash. They *might* have something to do with it."

"I'm positive. Now, I had some questions for you before all this started."

ACELE - "Okay, why do you think that?"

"First, they had just the faintest scent of chewing gum on them. I could still smell it under the… shit."

"They were written in a woman's hand. And oh boy did reading them make me not feel good."

"To hell with this. Questions -- I had them. And you have answers."

ACELE - "Wow, man." She raises her eyebrow. "That's pretty symbolic, don't you think?"

"Yes, I found that to be very symbolic too."

"No. Why?"

ACELE - "Used to be sweet, now it's shit -- seems pretty symbolic to me. Anyway, what else?

"They were written in a woman's hand. And oh boy did reading them make me not feel good."

ACELE - "There you have it then -- chick trouble. Not political after all. Who was she?"

"I don't remember."

"No idea. Haven't seen her, definitely haven't *called* her. I don't remember a single thing about her."

ACELE - "Really?" She appears to believe you. "You seem pretty upset about this *chica*... are you sure you don't remember anything about her? Eyes? Hair colour?"

"I remember her scent and that's all."

"Yup. Next to nothing."

ACELE - "Wow, man. That's some pretty strange shit..." She rubs her sides for warmth. "Are you sure the letters were for you?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. Why would I have reacted so strongly otherwise?"

"Come to think of it -- the *whore* could have written them to her *lover*!"

ACELE - "How come you don't remember though? Is it, like, some selective memory thing?"

"Wait, what do you mean by *selective memory*?"

"I think it's more about me getting so unbelievably drunk I completely erased all memory of this world."

"Wait, what do you mean by selective memory?"

ACELE - "Man, when I get hurt I just wanna forget that shit, you know? That kind of selective memory."

"I think it's more about me getting so unbelievably drunk I completely erased all memory of this world."

ACELE - "Yeah. Or it might be that. This one time I did so much... booze that I forgot, too..."

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - It's obvious she's "done" more than "booze."

ACELE - "Or it might just be psych bullshit, you know? Königstein wank."

"What is this *Königstein wank*?"

"Alright, I had some questions for you."

ACELE - "You know: the psych thing they've got going on there. Rich people like it. People in Königstein are mostly rich."

"Thanks for the bullshit psych thing then."

"You know, I'm not sure this made things any better."

"Alright, I had some questions for you."

ACELE - "You're welcome." She thinks for a second, stretching her jaw. "Might be for the best to keep that shit forgotten though. Just my opinion. If it itches, don't scratch."

+5 XP

PAIN THRESHOLD [Easy: Success] - Yes, but it itches really, really bad...

2. "What's your name?"

ACELE - "Acele."

"And your surname?"

"Acele who? I'm not a young suitor, this is official police business."

ACELE - "Why?"

"Did I not say I was from the police? It's for the paperwork."

"Why indeed? Forget it."

ACELE - "Okay..." She hesitates. "It's Berger."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - A very common name.

3. "What's that device you have there?"

ACELE - "This?" She breathes on her freezing fingers. "It's a portable recording device. It's for field recording. Low quality, but still."

"And the wires?"

ACELE - "Actually just one wire, I picked on it till the braiding came loose. The wire leads to a contact microphone."

"What's a 'contact microphone'?"

"Got it."

ACELE - "A contact mic records sounds from inside things. Like this ice."

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success] - Your mangled brain would like you to know there is a boxer called Contact Mike.

Yeah? Any news on my wife's name? How about my mother?

What am I supposed to do with this?

ENCYCLOPEDIA - Nope.

You're welcome.

"Does this have anything to do with Contact Mike?"

"How does that thing work?"

"Where did you get the mic from?"

"Actually, I had some non-mic questions for you."

ACELE - "Uh..." She's confused. "Yeah, I record stuff with it."

"No, I mean the boxer Contact Mike."

"No, I mean... forget it."

ACELE - "Ah! No. This is a *contact microphone*, it's for recording *inside* solid objects. Contact Mike just beats people up."

"You know, Contact Mike doesn't *just beat people up*. Contact Mike is a role model."

ACELE - "Um..."

"Yes, you heard right. You should try to be more like Contact Mike: a successful athlete and an *inspirational figure* who has overcome social, physical, and mental obstacles."

"On second thought, screw Contact Mike. He's not a champion -- you are! Look at you here in front of a saggy tent, picking your nose to drug-addict music. The world of sports is in awe of your faith and dedication."

"Sorry, I don't know why I said that. There was something else I wanted to know…"

ACELE - "Man, you are one weird cop."

"This isn't about me. This is about your lack of respect for one of boxing's greats -- and for *yourself*."

"I'd say I'm just about normal. Now about that mic -- Not Mike. Mic."

ACELE - "What is it with you and this Mike guy?" She pauses. The question is rhetorical.

"Okay, if it floats your boat I'll be more like Contact Mike and less like me."

Thought Obtained: The Litany of Contact Mike

"Yes, that does indeed float my boat."

"Self respect is not meant to float any boats but your own."

ACELE - "I'll keep that in mind, for future use." She turns to check her tape recorder.

2. "How does that thing work?"

ACELE - "The mic? I don't exactly know. Somehow it doesn't pick up vibrations from the air. The box said it only picks up *structure-borne sound*. If you like technobabble."

3. "Where did you get the mic from?"

ACELE - "Same place I got the recorder from. The Paliseum."

"What's The Paliseum?"

"Probably a hangout for junior delinquents. Back to the mic, if you will.""

ACELE - "Oh man, you haven't been to The Paliseum?" She forgets herself for a moment. "It's *the* coolest place in this whole drug-addled shithole."

"It's a music club and a synthesizer workshop. On Boogie Street, in Jamrock. Musicians live there, like... real musicians. I once saw Arno van Eyck!"

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Thinking about it really cheers her up. It's a long way from here, though.

"Sounds interesting. Who is this *Arno* guy?"

"Sounds like a place for congregating homo-sexuals."

ACELE - "Yeah, there might be some. I don't think they look down on the homo-sexual underground there. The Paliseum's not that kind of place. It's cool."

"Because I have a problem with homo-sexuals. Major problem."

"Don't get me wrong. I'm all for it. This *Paliseum* just sounded like their kind of place."

"Oh no, you completely misunderstood me. I might be a homo-sexual myself."

I *could* put this one up to a vote, but, come on.

ACELE - "Oh! Well, good for you."

"Now about that *Arno* guy you mentioned."

"Never mind all that. I had questions about that mic..."

ACELE - ""Oh yeah..." She looks you over, assessing your age. "I guess even with your modern take on sexuality you wouldn't be in the van Eyck demographic."

"I get down."

"On second thought, let's go back to the contact mic."

ACELE - "I... don't know what that means."

"I grind."

ACELE - "Is that some kind of term from the homo-sexual underground?"

"It means I'm hip beyond my years."

"I'm not sure, but I have concrete evidence that I rock. In the form of a wrecked tape player and a totally trashed hostel room."

"Neither do I actually. I have no idea what I'm talking about. Get down? Grind?"

ACELE - "That's cool." She breathes on her fingers. Looks like she doesn't know what to say.

"You're right. Time has deserted me."

"Never mind, let's talk about that contact mic instead..."

ACELE - "Sucks, man." She squints her eyes for a second trying to remember something... then lets go of it. "Was there something else? About the contact mic, perhaps?"

-1 Morale

4. "Actually, I had some non-mic questions for you."

ACELE - "Okay."

Gonna leave this conversation for a second so I can save and look at that Thought.

THE LITANY OF CONTACT MIKE

Temporary research bonus: -1 Logic: No pain, no gain -1 Conceptualization: Push it -1 Drama: Make it Research time: 0h 15m

It's time once again to return to *The Twenty Things You Like To Say About Contact Mike*, the boxer who is, apparently, a paragon of open competition. It really doesn't get *any* better than this. *Any* better. Both inside and *outside* the ring. Stop. Point at someone. Someone in the distance. Point your finger at him. He *will* point his finger back at you, vaulting an impossible gulf of finance and privilege, to...

That's a lot of penalties, but it'll be over so quickly you'd hardly notice.

ACELE - "Hello again." The girl looks up at you for a moment before turning back to her work.

4. "What are you doing out here in the cold?"

ACELE - "Recording, I guess."

"And what is it you're recording exactly?"

ACELE - "I *think* I'm recording cracks in the ice, but there's no way to tell. Not without headphones. I think I just recorded your footsteps, too. Not sure how that will sound..." She scratches her forehead.

"Wait, what happened to the headphones?"

"And what are these recordings for -- the cracks, the footsteps?"

ACELE - "My boyfriend sold them."

"What for?"

ACELE - "I don't know, man... things. Just stuff you need for life."

DRAMA [Medium: Success] - A lie. They were probably pawned off for something ssssuspicious.

"And what are these recordings for -- the cracks, the footsteps?"

ACELE - "The musicians in The Paliseum use them for making music. They loop the stuff, cutting the tapes together. They make music out of cracks in the ice and keys jangling... crazy sounds like that. It's hard to explain."

Just nod.

ACELE - "Anyway, I thought I'd make some, too. It's supposed to be, like, a music place anyway..." She rubs her shoulders and looks around.

"I don't really know what I'm doing. They use synthesizers, too. I don't have a synthesizer."

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - She looks at the recording device, the thing she thought would fill her hours with joy and escape. It's turning out to be an empty fantasy. She feels childish, very useless all of a sudden.

COMPOSURE [Medium: Success] - The sharp drop in endorphins is almost visible. Like a warm blanket has fallen off her shoulders -- the wave of chill, the quivering jaw. Indications of a drug high.

KIM KITSURAGI - "Take this, you're cold." The lieutenant begins to take off his jacket.

ACELE - "No man, fuck that, I'm cool... I'm sorry I said that. I'm sorry about the *fuck*."

KIM KITSURAGI - "It's okay." The lieutenant backs up. He throws you a glance.

"Now *this* is where a hat would come in handy."

(Give her your hat.) "Here. You need this more than I do."

"You said *it's* supposed to be a music place. What is?"

"I had some other questions." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "Yeah… maybe you were right about the hat."

I want to keep all the hats we have right now. Don't worry, I know where we can get another one.

3. "You said *it's* supposed to be a music place. What is?"

ACELE - "That." She nods toward the church. "The boys think it could be a *place*, like The Paliseum or something. Stupid. It's really..." she pauses, "not gonna be a Paliseum, that's for sure."

"The boys?"

ACELE - "Yeah, Andre and the guys. They're inside. In the tent."

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - And why is that?

"Why are you freezing out here, while the boys are inside?"

(Let it go.) "Got it..."

ACELE - "They got too much stuff crammed in there. No room."

"Stuff like what?"

ACELE - "Music stuff mostly. Like this tape recorder, but bigger. And there's piles of it."

"You mean like those headphones your boyfriend sold."

"Why not just leave some of it outside so you don't have to freeze?"

ACELE - "Yup." She squints her eyes a little. "They were pretty... I'm sorry we sold those."

"Why not just leave some of it outside so you don't have to freeze?"

ACELE - "That stuff is more expensive than I am. More expensive than any of us, really. Doesn't matter. I can take the cold."

4. "I had some other questions." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "Go ahead."

5. "Tell me more about this *music place* you've been planning in the church." 6. "You seem surprisingly comfortable with being questioned. Why's that?" 7. [Empathy - Legendary 14] The tape recorder lies on the ice like a discarded toy. Pick it up.

ACELE - "It's supposed to become, like, a club. For *anodic dance music*. Like that new style of synthesizer stuff they play at The Paliseum."

"Except that... yeah." She looks at the old wooden church up on the poles. As a mean wind comes bellowing in, the six-story structure lets out a doleful shriek.

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - The floorboards are twisting and the shooting beams are slowly cracking like bones. Far east of the golden Delta, beyond the industrial port, there is a black patch of unlit coast with the smallest creatures on the ice...

There will never be a club for anodic music here.

Not in a million years.

"What is *anodic dance music*?"

"So you want to turn the church into a club?"

"Did you put the padlock on the church door?"

"Enough about the church then. I had another question." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "You know, anodic, cathodic -- music that's made with electronic instruments."

Secret task complete: What is anodic music?

+10 XP

Level up!

"Electronic instruments -- like what?"

"Got it. Now about the church..."

ACELE - "Synthesizers and tape consoles, microcomputers too. Anything that uses electricity, but isn't guitars... also found sounds. Stuff like that."

INLAND EMPIRE [Easy: Success] - You see clear, beautiful, violent flashes of light. Light cutting through a smoke-filled darkness. That is what the future will look like -- if it ever comes.

2. "So you want to turn the church into a club?"

ACELE - "I know." She nods towards the sloping mass of wood on the coast, then shivers. "It's not my idea. Andre and the boys found the place. It was supposed to be deserted, but now they can't even take it..."

"Hey..." Her black eyes widen. "You two are cops..."

"No. We are *the law*."

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I don't know where you got that idea."

ACELE - "Okay, well..." She hesitates. "Maybe you could *talk* to Andre and the guys? Because there are some strange things going on in that church... if you're police you should look into it, right?"

"I'll talk to them."

"We'll see. I prefer to remain non-committal."

"I've got enough on my plate as it is."

ACELE - "They're inside that thing there." She points to the tent. "Would be cool if you did... Was there something else?"

3. "Did you put the padlock on the church door?"

ACELE - "No."

"No?"

ACELE - "Not really, no."

(Show her the sticker on your ledger.) "So, this isn't yours?"

"Okay then. About that church..."

ACELE - "It's Noid's."

"Wait, is this *Noid* a friend of yours?"

"Why did this Noid-person put a padlock on the church door?"

ACELE - "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"Why did this Noid-person put a padlock on the church door?"

ACELE - "To keep more weirdos from getting in. Fucking Martinaise... I'm sorry." She rattles her teeth. "It's got the worst weirdos. If you get around to it, ask Andre about them, he'll tell you."

4. "Enough about the church then. I had a another question." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "Go ahead."

6. "You seem surprisingly comfortable with being questioned. Why's that?"

ACELE - "Well, it's just questioning, right? You're questioning me -- it's what cops do."

DRAMA [Challenging: Success] - Fast and clean! A good one. Can't quite say it's a lie, but feels like one. She's better at lying than she'd like everyone to know.

"Have you been questioned before?"

"We do, don't we? Mind if I question you some more?"

ACELE - "Once or twice, yeah. I'm sorry I haven't had the *Revachol experience* they get east of the river."

"What's east of the river?"

"So, what trouble you've gotten into -- with the police."

"I had another question." (Conclude.)

ACELE - "*Rich* people. Rich people are east of the river."

(Look awestruck.) "Who are these *rich people*? They sound wonderful! I'd like to be one too."

(Sneer.) "I bet they're *really* rich. They must be very special people to be so rich…"

(Lean in and whisper.) "Let me guess, these rich people are not from around here..."

"Strange. The existence of rich people does not stir any emotions in me."

"Oh, okay. Good to know."

+1 Communism

ACELE - "Oh, they are. And I'm scum."

"I'm scum too."

"You're not scum."

ACELE - She nods, apprehensively.

2. "So, what trouble you've gotten into -- with the police."

ACELE - "The usual. I had a shitty run as a teenager."

"What's *the usual*?"

ACELE - "You know, drinking, getting into fights. The ugly stuff that happens when you move out of your parents' place at thirteen. In Faubourg."

CONCEPTUALIZATION [Medium: Success] - Interesting term. Time to glean some knowledge!

"Wait, what is *In Faubourg*?"

"Why did you need to move out at such a tender age?"

ACELE - "Is this a rhetorical question?"

"No. I literally can't remember even the most basic terms sometimes."

KIM KITSURAGI - "Khm..." The lieutenant steps in. "Faubourg -- not *In Faubourg* -- is a massive banlieue south of Jamrock Quarter. It is the largest ghetto in Revachol -- possibly the world."

"I *know* what Jamrock is but… let's say I didn't."

(Turn to the girl.) "And why did you have to move out when you were so young?"

KIM KITSURAGI - "We're Jamrock. Sort of. Martinaise is called North Jamrock sometimes. Jamrock is also a ghetto, only smaller than Faubourg."

+5 XP

ENCYCLOPEDIA [Medium: Success]- Jamrock is a district of Revachol comprised of the following quarters: Pox, Villalobos, Central Jamrock, Grand-Couron, Old South and the Valley of the Dogs. Learning is great!

(Turn to the girl.) "And why did you have to move out when you were so young?"

ACELE - "My dad was a drunk. Plus, I guess I just wanted to drink too, you know? Get my *party on*."

"You know what? I think you've really learned something from all those times you've been questioned. Some of your lies have been pretty good."

"I get that. I'm a major party animal myself. MAJOR."

"Drinking, partying and disco music are bad for you. You should take me as a warning example."

"I had another question."

ACELE - "Um... thank you?"

+5 XP

EMPATHY [Trivial: Success] - The girl is truly proud of herself.

"Yes, I can't even remember how many you've told or which ones I picked up on. Now -- another question."

"Lying to the police is nothing to be proud of. Now, another question, if you can manage to tell the truth."

ACELE - "Go ahead."

7. [Empathy - Legendary 14] The tape recorder lies on the ice like a discarded toy. Pick it up.

+2 More like Contact Mike.

EMPATHY [Legendary: Success] - The device is still warm from her touch -- and heavy as a brick, from the batteries inside. The company logo "Omicron" adorns its yellow plastic cover. Inside, the tape is rolling -- the girl looks at the device in your hands.

"I'm sorry you have to sit here on the ice with the drugs wearing off. At your age -- or at any age -- in this weather... waiting for it to get dark."

Put the tape recorder down.

ACELE - She looks you in the eye, her pupils wide, surrounded by a ridiculous amount of make-up.

"The people who built this world intended it to be better for you, but they failed. It is easier to live in their failure with this by your side." (Tap on the tape recorder.)

ACELE - The wind howls. She remains silent.

EMPATHY - It's real. Tell her.

"It is not a childish fantasy. It can be a real weapon against what's coming for you now."

ACELE - "What is...?" Her shoulders shake a little.

"The dark."

"Nothing, if you got this. Don't be scared."

"I'm once again reminded of how Contact Mike rose from the slums of Saint-Batiste to the top of the boxing world, overcoming adversity and serious brain trauma. Nothing is coming -- nothing he wouldn't knock out in three rounds. The real fight is for the right attitude."

ACELE - "Okay." Her teeth rattle. She takes the device from you and places it in her lap. "I'll stick to it."

AUTHORITY [Medium: Success] - There is little you can do to help her now, but given the chance you feel like you *should*. There is something about her. A weightiness.

ACELE - After a moment of silence she speaks again: "So, thanks. I guess. For the psych session. I guess that means we're... even?" She smiles a little.

SUGGESTION [Easy: Success] - She means your little talk before, after your breakdown. It's all right, she means to say. You returned the favour.

+5 XP

6. "Actually, that's it for now." [Leave.]

#disco elysium #acele berger #kim kitsuragi #harrier du bois

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ddoubleblindd · 10 months

Text

Everyone's a Catgirl! Ch. 1: The Bench

It all happened so fast. “You Died” didn’t flash before my eyes. There wasn’t a guardian angel or that “light at the end of the tunnel.” I didn’t even get the memory reel that everyone talks about.

Just a giant vastness of nothing.

When my consciousness returned, it didn’t come with a body. Well, it kind of did, but not the corporeal flesh-golem I’m used to. It was more like an outline, hinting at where the edges of my skin should be. I thought I’d lost all five senses before I found myself standing in a room, staring at the hinted shapes of other people.

Dead people?

There were a lot of ways I’d imagined the afterlife, and this definitely wasn’t one of them. I was in the lobby of an enormous building flooded with stringent white light. Rooms lined the hallways to my left and right, extending further than I could see. Each section was closed off by glass panels, allowing curious onlookers to peer into what looked like courtrooms. Stern-faced judges in black robes sat at the head of every room while other souls—at least, that’s what I assumed they were—stood at the defendant’s table. The whole setting had a dream-like quality that I couldn’t seem to shake, but something told me that this was very, very real.

“Am I in hell?” I wondered aloud, happy to hear my own voice emit from a source that I was sure had lost its lungs.

“I dunno, man. I just got here.” Another form next to me shrugged. “But this sure is my idea of hell.”

I wanted to panic, or run, or do anything but stand there and stare into what was sure to be my final judgment. This was all too fast and too damn soon—I’d just barely turned twenty. I couldn’t be dead yet.

“Matthew Kelmer?” a kind voice called over the crowd. I looked up to see a young woman who couldn’t have been much older than me but contained a more solid-looking body. Her blonde hair fell in waves just past her curved hips, and she wore a sharp black jacket with a tight skirt and brightly colored scarf. Made me think of a sexy flight attendant.

“That’s me,” I said, stepping past the other souls.

Her smile was brilliant and unnervingly comforting. But what else was I going to take comfort in? “Come with me, please.”

“Hey! What’s the deal? He just got here!” a man in the back shouted.

“This way, please,” she repeated, ignoring the outcry.

There was an annoyed grumbling from the heckler. I squared my shoulders and fell into step behind the stranger.

“Where am I?” I asked once we were far enough away from the crowd.

“Surely you’ve heard of purgatory?” she asked.

“Well, yeah.” I realized that being called back so quickly probably wasn’t the best thing to happen in purgatory. “Wait, did I stamp a one-way ticket to hell or something?”

“No, silly. Quite the opposite. Here, please.” She stopped in front of a large metal door and held it open for me. It was one of the only rooms not sectioned off by glass.

I stepped inside and waited. “Who are you?”

“My name is Leiana. I’m one of the managers of purgatory.”

“Managers?”

“Your world refers to them as goddesses, I believe.”

I wanted to pinch myself and wake up. But there was nothing to pinch. “Um. Okay.”

“You see, Matthew—”

I bristled. “Just Matt is fine.”

A corner of her smile twitched downward, but her cheerful demeanor remained. “Your heroic death has earned you another chance. A new life in a different world.” She circled an oak desk and took a seat.

My what? In a what? A dozen questions assaulted me. “Valiant death?”

A virtual display appeared above her desk with a few presses of her fingers. A movie in stunning high definition began to play, and I watched in silence. It was me at the gym I’d been standing in not an hour before.

I was lying on the bench, preparing to do a bench press without a spotter. Who the hell needed a spotter? It didn’t look that hard. I’d never done one before, but I knew the other girls in the gym loved to watch guys compete against each other with the weights. And there was a girl there I had my eye on.

“You battled against this metal beast with such courage!” Leiana exclaimed.

The dots began to connect. Oh, Jesus Christ. In the video, it was clear that I hadn’t secured the weights well. Briana, the girl I’d been hoping to catch the attention of, had noticed. She’d jogged over to the bench just as I lifted the bar. Her lips were moving, and she was waving her arms, but I’d had my headphones in and didn’t hear her.

“See how you struggled!” Leiana clasped her hands and swooned. “You protected her with all your might.”

Yeah, I struggled, alright. As I pushed harder on the bar, my face turned beet-red, and the veins in my throat pulsed against my skin. I’d racked up almost three hundred pounds—nearly twice my weight.

The bar tilted in my unsure grip, and my arms buckled. As my shoulders gave out, the bar hurtled toward me past the catches on either side and crushed my windpipe. I must have died instantly. Briana sunk to her knees and plucked out my earbuds, shouting words I couldn’t make out.

“And as all tragic romances end, true love’s kiss,” Leiana crooned.

Briana had tried to give me CPR. I wanted to crawl under Leiana’s desk. I hadn’t even stayed alive long enough to feel her lips on mine, goddammit. The screen went dark.

“I could not let your judgment pass without offering another chance.” Leiana sighed. “These are the stories that go down in history.”

God, I hope not. I had no idea what to say. “So, another chance?”

“Yes. As a manager, you see, I can grant second chances to special cases such as yours. There are hundreds of other worlds that could use your strength and valor, with a few stipulations, of course.”

“Such as?”

Leiana giggled. “It depends on the world! Every world has its own set of rules.” She replayed the video from the beginning. “Goodness, I believe I could watch this for eternity.”

And now I’m in hell. “Can we talk about the other worlds?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. Let’s see what we have available.” She closed the window and opened a new one—something akin to a spreadsheet program. Names and languages I’d never seen nor heard of scrolled by at a blazing speed. Her smile wavered. “Hmm.”

“What?” I was beginning to wonder if I’d rather risk it with the judge. I hadn’t done anything too terrible in life to deserve eternal damnation, right?

“Well, you see, I only have three worlds available at the moment.”

“Out of that whole list?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“There are many specifications, requirements, overrides, and a lot of paperwork that goes into such a feat. But we’ll make the best of it, Matthew, I promise you!”

“Matt,” I corrected flatly.

“Of course, Matt!” The giant list condensed down to three names, all composed of symbols I didn’t recognize. She selected the first title, and a screen filled with bar graphs and pie charts overlayed the spreadsheet. “So, our first potential world has a moderate difficulty rating, a balanced monster score, and vast opportunity for growth!”

“Difficulty rating? Monster scores?” I probably couldn’t feel dizzy, but I took a seat in the chair across from Leiana’s desk anyway. “Like a video game?”

“Yes! Very much like the video games of your world. You must complete tasks and earn yourself a place in their society by honing your attributes and gaining Skills.”

“Are you saying I have to level up?”

“Something like that.”

“Are all worlds like this?”

“No. However, the three available are.”

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be too bad. I’d played enough games to have a handle on that sort of system. “What are the rules of this one?” I gestured to the graphs.

“You must begin life anew as a dungeon.”

I paused. “A what?”

“A dungeon. It’s very popular, from what I understand.”

I pictured dark, scummy caves filled with bats and spiders and bears. I imagined smelling like stale water and mold. “Who the hell would want to be a dungeon?”

“Well, many before you have chosen this option, but we can move on,” Leiana mumbled, seeming distraught. She quickly regained her composure and pulled up the second set of charts. “Our second world begins in the Kingdom of Rhodes. The difficulty rating is low, the monsters are on the gentler side, and magic powers the realm.”

Boring. I’d played every JRPG on the planet. The last thing I wanted to do was live in a tropey, easy fantasy land. “Next.”

“You don’t wish to hear the rules?”

“No. Next?”

Leiana sighed and pulled up the third name. The graphs for this one looked more intense compared to the other two. She chewed her bottom lip and glanced at me before looking back at the hologram.

“What?” My interest piqued.

“Well, the difficulty rating is quite extreme, and the monster score is on the higher end of what I’m familiar with. And, well—” she trailed.

This sounded interesting. “Well, what?”

“Everyone’s a catgirl.”

If I still had a heart, it would have stopped. “Wait. It’s a world full of catgirls?”

“Yes.”

“Like girls with cat ears and tails?”

Leiana narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”

“Do I have to be a dungeon?” There had to be some stupid catch. This was way too good to be true.

“I do not believe so.”

“Do I have to be a catgirl?”

She opened another document and glanced through the illegible script. “No. Per their stipulations, you would arrive just as you were before you passed. But your attributes and profile would be entirely reset. Matt, I don’t—”

“I’m going there.” I leaped from the chair. My head swirled with pictures of beautiful, petite girls with adorable kitty ears and bells. “Send me there.”

Leiana drummed her fingers along the top of her desk as she stared up at me. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” Catgirls wearing maid outfits, in silk lingerie, in bathing suits. It was like the ultimate dream come true.

She paused. “The difficulties will be immense. We cannot change this decision once you’ve made it.”

“I understand.” What part of “Send me” didn’t she get?

She frowned. “You are certain, then?”

“I’m more than certain.” How many times was she going to ask me? I didn’t care how hard it was or how awful the grind could be. It was a whole damn world of catgirls. I wanted nothing more. “Send me.”

“As you wish.” She stood and signed off on the bottom of the stipulations sheet. “Your necessary tools will be given to you after you arrive. Please check your inventory.”

“Wait? How do I do that?” In a video game, my inventory was accessed by a button. How did someone pick through a physical inventory? Would I get a suitcase or something?

She ignored my question and made a series of hand signals. A warm glow surrounded her fingers, and her final gesture pointed toward me. “For your valor, Matthew Kelmer. Be reborn!”

For the second time that day, the world went dark.

Now Loading…

#books & libraries #everyone's a catgirl!#everyonesacatgirl #catgirl #litrpg #gamelit #fantasy #light novel #isekai #story #chapter 1 #snippet #web novel #original novel #self publishing #fiction

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papaver-decervicatus · 7 months

Text

July Showers, August Flowers

Angst, barely any comfort, AU Mouse?/Konig? mentions of child death, unplanned pregnancy, etc. More info below

So, a couple times I had mentioned how Mouse became sort of an OC to me, and for whatever reason, the angst was really hitting me last night so I whipped out this. Brief timeline/overview

Lucretia "Mouse" Jehnnings- US Marine Sniper Scout and Clandestine Insertions specialist gets partnered up with Julius "König" Doss, insertions specialist for the Austrian Special Forces in 2014. The two work well together, slow burn, they fall in love, you get the idea. In 2015, Mouse gets shot in the field and her comrade, the newly promoted Captain Price, tells Hans "Golem" Blaustein that Mouse died in combat (so she can assume an espionage role.) Hans relays this info to König, who abandons his plans of retirement and eventually works for KorTac under the assumption that Mouse is dead. König pulls a similar stunt and 'dies' legally to continue his work. Mouse is told that he is dead as well. They both live under the assumption that the other has died. In 2023, Mouse joins SpecGru under the insistence of Captain Price. She recognizes König in the field and this is the first meeting in years. They're like. Late 30s here, but they met at mid 20s.

Sorry for the long explanation! I promise it makes more sense in my head. Anyways, very self indulgent and has no bearing on C/M/D, but, functionally, Mouse and König are the same characters, just with identities explored.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

She shuts the door behind her with a characteristic quietness, and she doesn’t so much as turn to the entryway as she redoes the locks behind her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mouse lies.

König knows it’s a lie. This is how Lucretia lies. With her eyes cast down, her lip bloody in her teeth, her elegant shoulders collapsing in on her small frame. All these years later she doesn’t look all that much different, perhaps it’s his own age talking but there’s something so effortlessly charming in her smile lines and crow's feet. The red light leaking down onto her in the dim room creates a shadowy contrast on her face. He can still count her freckles. She never got her nose corrected, it’s still slightly crooked. Her lip scar, the one he tasted when it was fresh, has healed itself into a satisfying silver sliver.

But for every similarity to his Maus, this Mouse carries a difference. Her hair is a little thinner, it’s certainly longer than he ever knew it to be. She has a much larger scar that strikes through her right, but still unharmed, eye. She has more ear piercings and tattoos littered about what little skin he’s had the privilege to see.

She’s dressed to the nines in her combat uniform, it’s unlike any he’d have known her in a near decade ago. It’s dark, it’s stylized, she’s littered it with little insignias of herself. A dagger symbol rests on her tac-vest guarding her heart. His own heart wonders what look her face would make if she were to see the dagger he got on his own sternum, a sullen memorial to a long-dead lover complete with edelweiss insignia and her favorite poppies.

This is Mouse. Not Maus. Not Lucretia. He tries to separate them in his mind.

He fails, he just wants the woman in front of him in his arms again, no matter if she’s different than how he knew her. She’s still Mouse the Sniper, she’s still the muse of every late-night memory that haunts him, still what he fights for, still what he wants.

“Price told me,” König warns. His body starts to shake. He doesn’t know what answer, if any, he wants.

“Yeah well. He told me you were dead.” Her wonderful, honey-brown eyes pierce daggers into his. In this light, she looks like some chthonic succubus, ready to steal his soul and spit his discarded body out, bloody, but still alive.

“Hans told me the same of you.” He says. What he means is I died when they told me as much. I haven’t been alive since I found out Lucretia Jehnnings died from a gunshot to the abdomen. Krueger had to peel me off the floor. I bought a ring for you. I was going to ask you to be Lucretia or Jenny Doss, it didn’t even matter if you took my last name as long as you were mine. I haven’t felt that way since you died, hell I haven’t been a person since you left, just this monster. I want to kill Hans and put his body at your feet. He lied to me, you’re alive but I’ll never forgive myself for our time apart.

She shudders and unwraps her make-shift gause face mask from her hands and re-wraps it in an idly attempt at comfort. He remembers when she used to do the same with her bandana. So much is different, but nothing’s really changed, now has it?

“How did he tell you I went?” She asks, eyes still trained on their target. He swallows the bile rising in his throat. She is breaking apart at the seams, but he will not let her think he is too fragile to hold her together. “Abdomen. Gunshot.” He clips out, short and breathless. A humorless laugh escapes her lips in return.

“Someone died from that all right,” she says, through tears and hiccuping laughter. She slips her sniper’s cowl off her shoulder, exposing her right forearm. She steps closer to him and, just like all those years ago, he lets her approach him, all too weary to scare such a lovely prey animal off.

She exposes the arm to him. Between the scarring, intentional and otherwise, pure black flowers curl in between themselves. Edelweiss, poppies, morning glories, forget-me-nots, and baby’s breath tangle around a name and date. Augusta.

When he looks into her now overflowing eyes for permission, he slips his hood off when she nods yes. He expects confusion, ire, resentment, disgust, and a million other things to cross her face when she sees him again, the monster that he’s been without her.

Instead, she silently cries harder and shudders when he presses a few sad kisses to the tattoo. He breathes in her smell and soaks in her warmth as if to remind himself that she really is here and this isn’t just his deepest fantasy played out in the night again. She still smells like cinnamon and mint. She’s still warm to the touch.

“Would you have told me if you knew I was alive?” Anger rises in his stomach, at Price, at Hans, at the US and Austrian governments for perpetrating such a lie, but not at her, never at her. He pushes it down, resolved to know that he will make all the conspirators pay in due time. Right now, he focuses on the bittersweet joy of having his own life back in arm’s reach.

“No, I-” she shivers and digs her nails into her arm so fiercely he worries she will draw blood. “I couldn’t face you.” She backs away from him and he lets her retreat. It pains him to lose contact but he knows chasing her will only compound the hurt.

Still, his mind reels in confusion. What reason could she possibly give to have him be upset? He wants to twine her in his arms somewhere far away, to never let her go, to shield her from every future injustice dished out by a world that has already battered her so badly.

“Why?”

“Because I failed, Julius!” She shouts, body shaking and voice trembling. “First I failed as a soldier, I put myself into some stupid fucking situation and got shot. Then I failed as a woman because I didn’t even recognize- who wouldn’t fucking know? How could any woman miss that?” Her loud voice dips into quiet pain and she sinks to her knees in front of him. “And lastly, I failed you.” He follows her onto the floor and sits in front of her, listening to her line of reasoning, no matter how badly he wants to shout at her about how wrong she is. “Lucre-” “No, Julius, I did. I failed you, I thought, this is awful, but I thought-” She takes in a shuddering breath and her words find a steadier cadence. “I thought to myself, ‘at least Julius is dead. At least I don’t have to tell him how badly I fucked up. At least it’s all my fault, at least they’re alr-” she chokes and takes a moment to collect herself. “At least, you could hold her when I couldn’t. At least you could take care of her when I clearly couldn’t and didn’t deserve to.”

He cannot hold himself back anymore and he lunges at her to grab her in his arms. She knocks over and he pins both her hands above her head and steadies her gaze to his with his other hand guiding her chin. “Don’t ever say that again!” He shouts, some new angry passion thrashing at his ribs to be let out into the world. “You did not fail, I am the only failure here. If I had known, I never would have let you suffer alone!” He hisses. She closes her eyes and more tears squeeze onto her cheeks. “But you didn’t know-” “And neither did you!” His chest heaves and his heavy heart hits the floor and shatters when she opens her eyes back to his. Now it’s his turn to fall apart, he lets her wrists go and he lays down on his side, maneuvering her body to lay with him the same way.

She still fits perfectly in his arms after all this time.

He cradles the back of her head into the juncture of his heart and jaw. One of her hands finds his cheek and strokes it. “I am sorry,” he prays into the cold room. She nuzzles closer to him and whispers it back.

Once her trembling stutters to a stop, she unwinds herself ever-so-slightly from his grip and traces his sightline to the exposed tattoo.

“I’m sorry, I had no clue what you would have wanted. It was August 1st and I thought, well Julius Caesar, Caesar Augustus, and…” She trails off and her gaze falls to somewhere on the floor. He strokes her cheek as he turns her eyes back to his.

“Augusta Doss is a perfect name.” He whispers, arms embracing her closer to him yet again.

“She was perfect,” Mouse sobs into his chest, shaking like a boat battered by a summer storm.

He never liked Price and was always at least a little weary of Hans. At this moment, König can think of only one thing he wants more than to rip them apart with his bare hands for what their lies have kept him from and done to his love, and it's to keep holding her until she stops crying.

“Just like her mother,” König responds, holding her steady like a rock holds steady in the sea.

#char: julius doss #mouse/konig #char: lucretia jehnnings #anyways #yeah this is so fucking sad I am already sorry for writing it :)

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irisopranta · 4 months

Text

The Girl from Gridania - Part 3

Part 3 of Iris’s origin story Part 1 Part 2 Word Count: 2028

Night has fallen over the forested city-state. The tavern was bustling. The troubadours bellowing out songs and patrons of all sorts merrily danced to their tunes. A cloaked woman approached the proprietor of the tavern, Miounne.

“I’m looking for some adventurers,” the cloaked woman whispered. “ A lalafell named Papalymo and hyur named Yda. Have you seen them?”

Miounne smirked, “Why yes, I’ve heard that they are looking around the Spirithold. You might be able to catch them there.” The cloaked woman nodded and walked away. “Oh, and Iris, I won’t tell anyone you were here.”

Iris sighed, “Thank you, Miounne.” She headed out, with a lantern in hand.

The darkness enveloped the forest. The only light is from the flicker of Iris’s lantern. It had an eerie feel to it that Iris just couldn’t shake off. She approached the fortress. She looked around to see if she could find those adventurers. However, no one was there and only the leaves made sound in the wind.

With a sigh, she turned around to start her search again. As she made her way to the entrance, the ground rubbled. This didn’t feel like the tremors from earlier. Thumping echoed through the ruins. Iris turned around to see a golem. “Oh jeez.” Iris was getting tired of all these giant creatures going on a rampage. She pulled out her staff. “Oh graceful wind, I call you forth. AERO!” A gale of wind enveloped the golem. In its anger, it swings its sturdy arm trying to crush the elezen woman. Quick on her feet, she was able to dodge the heavy blow. Debris from the stone floor scattered about. The golem roared. Iris realizes that she needs to neutralize the golem somehow.

Before she knew it, a fireball radianted before her. "Are you okay?" A familiar voice called out to her. Iris looked beyond the golem to see Papalymo and Yda. The golem stabled itself again. It started to wind up another punch towards the lalafell. However, his Hyur companion knocked the punch out of the air with her own.

The force from it was so strong that the golem started to rumble and crumble. Its body couldn’t hold form and started to separate boulder by boulder. As they fall to the ground dust and rubble kicked up into the air. The three cough and gagged from all the debris. It started to settled. As it did Iris looked over to the two adventurers that she was hunting down. The two were still coughing from dirt.

Iris cleared her throat. “There you are.” She glared at the two. “I have questions and you have answers.” The two adventurers finally cleared their own throats as the dust was cleared from the atmosphere. The two were unsure as to what she wanted them for. They could only trade a confused look to her.

A silence grew between the three. Papalymo cleared out his voice once again “Well?” He questioned her as he expected her to asked it as they looked at her.

“Ah right. Well it seemed that you two knew what was going on when I fainted.” She tries recalling what Papalymo said “A surfeit of aether you said. Isn’t that right?”

Papalymo nodded “Ah the aether of course.” He mumbled before pondering for a moment. He paced as he thought. “Well, It could be a surfeit of aether that just gives the headaches but…..” He trails off his sentence.

“But what?” Iris inquired more wondering what the knowledgeable scholar knows.

Speaking again Papalymo exclaimed “Nevermind that, we need to track down that villain that’s threatenings the twelveswood.” “Villain?” Iris confused as to why the lalafellin man would changed the subject. “What are you even talking about? Couldn’t you just answer my question?”

He shocked his head, “This is more important. If we don’t get this situation sorted out everything will just get worse here.” He ran off out of the keep. Yda followed suit before waving her goodbyes to the elezen woman. Iris could only sigh, now alone in the keep. There wasn’t much left to do in this decrypted fortress so she decided to leave.

“Back to square one.” She sighed once again. She looked around now she is outside. She couldn’t see far from the light of her lantern. “Now where did those two go?” There were no signs of their departure. Iris could only sigh in disappointment. She figured this trail had gone cold that she was better off going home.

She took a break at Bentbranch. She got a cup of tea from one of the chocobo tenders while she thought. It was getting close to midnight she figured. She was tired. She knew she should make it home and go to bed. However, she couldn’t let this go. For once, she might have the answers to what is going with her. Would she ever get the chance to get these answers.

She finished her cup of tea and gave it back to the tender before heading back to Gridania proper. As she took the path back a dark figure appeared before her. They stood in front of her, as though they want to catch her for stealing. She wasn’t sure what to make of them. Wary, her guard was up.

“Who are you?” Her voice shaking in her speech.

“I wouldn’t worry about me, my dear.” His voice was gravelly. Before Iris realized it, the figure cast a spell. She found herself in a different location. Looking around, Iris realized that she was teleported to a large tree. It wasn’t long though that she heard some rustling. Quickly, she hid behind a rock. She looked over it and spied a group of Ixals. She tried to make out what they were saying but couldn’t over their growling voices.

“What do we have here, well?” She heard a hoarse voice spoke behind her causing her to jump. It belonged to an Ixal. Their sword was brandished. Iris wasn’t sure what to do. If she ran, who could say that the Ixal wouldn’t give chase and chop her down. Staying also didn’t seem like the best idea either. Her body moved on its own and she tries scattering away before falling down. Terrified, she grabbed her staff hoping to defend herself. The Ixal knocked her staff away, disarming her. What else could she do but run away. She turned her back on the beast man and scamper away. As she did, the Ixal used the pommel of their sword to knock her out.

Awhile later, she woke up, tied up and surrounded by Ixals. Iris tried struggling through the ropes to free herself. The Ixals were getting rowdy. It was as though they were planning on executing some ceremony. One of the Ixals stand above the group.

“Garuda, we will summon. Featherless, become one of us, they will.” The ixals all cheered to the leader’s message. She continue to struggle out the ropes. It was hopeless, they were bound to tight for her to even get free. Was this how it was going to end for her; tempered to be Garuda’s thrall. Iris’ face grew pale, sicken with the situation she found herself in. Her breathing was more labored than before as panic sets in.

As she accepted her fate, the ixals started to get knocked out, one by one. Looking onto the direction they were felled she spotted a familiar Hyur woman and Lalafellin man. She wasn’t to surprised that the woman was throwing her fist at every ixal she could find. The Lalafellin man made his way to Iris. He started to untie her. “Are you alright miss?” He asked.

“As alright as a tired Elezen can be.” Realizing that it’s terribly late, it’s probably coming up to the morning. The Lalafell gave her staff back and help her back on her feet.

“Good, well, we should take care of these beast men.” Papalymo ready his staff. Iris follow suit. The good news for these two was the Ixals were busy with Yda, who at this point had taken down at least half of the group. There were at least a dozen Ixali laying down on the ground unconscious. The beast men retreated and regrouped, ready to face off the three.

“Featherless, wish for death, you do?” The leader of the Ixali exclaimed towards the group, hoping to scare them off.

“Knowing what you plan on doing, It’s worth the risk.” Iris spat at the the group. Knowing that this can’t end well if left unchecked. Yda and Papalymo were standing beside her, the two were willing to help her out. The Ixali growled a bit before lunging at the three.

Yda stepped in front of the mages, facing the now angered beast men. She breathed in to gained some composure, then exhaled. At the instant she was in the middle of the Ixali group. She was quick to deliver a flurry of punches to a few of them. Feathers falling off their bodies, creating cover for both sides. The few that were lucky to avoid the barrage figured it would be better to spend their energy taking down the mages that are now defenseless.

“Oh graceful wind, I call you forth. AERO!” Iris chanted out, as gales of winds started to wrap itself around the group. They twisted and whirled, but the Ixali didn’t seemed too fazed by the wind. She felt she should have thought that through considering who they worship. She looked over to the lalafellin man that is next her as his spell fired off. A blaze let loose on a few more of the Ixali. They seemed to back off for a moment before they realize that the monk who was just behind them was already throwing fists at them.

The Ixali realized that they weren’t going to defeat all three of them and decided to retreat. The three watched as they ran off, deciding that pursuing them would do more harm than good. Iris met up with Yda, who was a bit winded from the fight. The elezen realized she was injured ever so slightly. Seeing this, she brought forth some aether to heal her up. As she was healing her, she chimed up. “Alright I need to know, what is going on. Rarely do I run into a group of adventurers more than once a day. Why are you here? What do you know about what’s going on with me? What was up with the Ixali?” She eyes Papalymo as she has a feeling that he is the brains of this whole operation.

A silence fell over the dark night. Papalymo wasn’t quite sure how to answer the barrage of questions. He hummed and hummed as though he was trying to answer them but not to give too much information. “We are here to investigate what is going on here. You see there is…..”

“Yda!” Yda started to answer her question but was swiftly interrupted by Papalymo. His loud protest to her answer tells Iris something is up. He gritted his teeth and continued to speak. “We need to keep that secret. We don’t know where that fiend may be.” He then ran up the Yda, grasping at her wrist. Before run off again he shouted “Fare thee well, fair gridanian woman. We must be off.” Shockingly he was able to drag the woman who just beat up a dozen of Ixali just a moment ago. Mayhaps she accepted that the lalafell might do something if she spill their secret.

“Wait!” Iris tried stopping the two. But they disappeared into the night. As annoying it is, Iris realized that she should really call it a night.

She turned heel and was ready to take her steps back to the city state. “Well, why would a seamstress be here this late at night?” A deep baritone voice broke the through the dead of night. She recognize the voice and feeling of dread over came her. She knew that her night had only gotten longer.

She stared at the eyes that had their sights on her before sighing out his name “Gritort.”

#flower of hope #oc: iris opranta #ffxiv

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the-antiapocalyptic-man · 5 months

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Revisiting my Tangent-2 ideas. Like the canon Tangent Universe, it's all different characters with familiar names, but I've tweaked them again since last time:

John Jet is Batman, an exile from the Vampire World of Zur-En-Arrh stranded on Earth after the death of his father, the Vampire-King Barbatos.

Kimiyo Hoshi is The Flash, a fifth-dimensional imp inhabiting the body of depressed Japanese office worker, working against the machinations of Z.O.O.M.

Etta Candy is Wonder Woman, a Metahuman Pro Wrestler from Australia working to win the Olympian Title Belt back from Maxie "Zeus" Lord.

The Superman Machine is a mechanical golem discovered by young sci-fi fantasy nerd Clark "Doomsday" Kent and his Legion of Superheroes: Elastic Lad, Turtle Boy, Insect Queen, and Front Page (Pete Ross, Jim Olsen, Lana Lang, and Lois Lane), all non-powered kids suddenly involved in an ancient war on the side of its deadliest weapon.

The Green Lantern is a Wood Elemental, each of the tree rings on his body holding the preserved life energy of a forest or jungle. As land developers encroach on the land it calls home, The Green Lantern prepares to go to war with humanity...

I was thinking of Black Canary as an undead magic user and Plastic Man as a living action figure as well, but we'll see

#dc #tangent headverse #fanart #au #redesign #superman #batman #the flash #green lantern #wonder woman

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tobiasdrake · 2 months

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The final battle to break the curse! Let's rescue and/or fuck up this guy!

(Alright, be cool. We might be able to handle this civilly. Talk him down. No need for violence. Just be chill and smooth.)

Sucks about your girlfriend.

(FUCK.)

Okay but, counterpoint: What if you didn't do that? What if, and I'm just spitballing here, we set fire to everything around us?

My guy, your message has been passed around more than a blunt at a rock concert. Part of that's on you; you never listed a mailing address and we've had a hell of a time tracking down your Return to Sender.

But I'll admit a little bit of fault on our part too. Everyone too busy playing Messenger; Nobody wanted to play Recipient.

With all due respect, I have permission to be here from who I'm pretty sure is the woman in that portrait. So. Y'know. Why don't you fucking leave? I don't recall her signing off on her property being used like this.

What I'm trying to say, asshole, is that this is a mail call. And the package is an eviction notice.

Oh wow. She was not kidding when she called you a powerful curse. But you won't fucking stop me! Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays this courier from the swift completion of his appointed rounds!

Come on, man. We all have to face the music sometime. It's over. You're not welcome in here anymore.

Go on, then! Keep shooting. You want Amazon shipping? Huh? You want privatized carriers taking over the industry? No? Then you should--

Respect your goddamn postal service!

Don't thank me, citizen. Thank the existence of public goods and services, funded by your tax dollars. Allowing the erosion of those services in pursuit of unsustainable privatization is the real curse.

And now the whole music box is shaking. That's not a good shaking is it? On a scale of 1 to "Why did I set the music box on fire again" how bad is this?

RIGHT BEHIND YOU

Not to be that guy but, uh, are we sure we want to count our chickens while we're standing on what looks suspiciously like a Boss Fight Podium?

Not the time, Artificer. Let the man catch his breath first.

Yeah, I've been wondering about your loop. You were living on Mesa Island before the flood even happened. How long did it take for you to get called as Messenger? I'm genuinely curious about how you got roped into all this.

Oh fuck. See? This is why I didn't want to count our chickens. The curse mask got away. This isn't over yet.

Sigma!? Is that you!?

And then let it all out at once when we break it out of confinement.

Well, if we're all fucked anyway then there's no reason not to go out swinging. Violence, everyone? Because I'm voting for violence.

What, the golem? I kicked its ass solo. Don't we have something better than that?

Is it more powerful with six of us?

Fuck it, I'm not hearing any better ideas. Let's do this.

IS THAT THE FUCKING ECLIPSE CANNON

Never mind, Artificer! I profusely apologize for ever doubting you! Fucking nothing stands up to the Eclipse Cannon. And, hey, you even made it mobile! So long, one weakness.

CHOKE ON MY RADIANCE, FUCKWORM

Sorry, I just. I always wanted to say it. This is the best day of my life.

The postal service always comes through.

Assclown.

What.

No, for real. What. What the actual fuck.

What am I even supposed to make of this.

What the fuck.

#the messenger #drake plays the messenger

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greenishghostey · 1 year

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I need to know all your Max and Eddie bestie headcanons!! I feel the same way, in my head they have a great sibling-like relationship!

Ohohoho I have way too many of these headcanons because I love the idea of Max getting the big brother she deserved. Like I know it's established that Max barely knew Eddie despite him being her neighbour HOWEVER a girl (me) can dream :)

So, here we go (I have far too many of these and want to talk about all of them, I'm sorry):

Max has forced Eddie to drive her to school when they’re both running late.

Eddie regularly comes over to fix kitchen appliances for the Mayfields. Max sneaks him when her mom’s at work because like hell are they paying a repair guy to do it.

Max asked Eddie to teach her to drive once. He refuses to do it ever again.

Max and Eddie have had quite a few heart-to-hearts while sitting on the benches in the trailer park. Mostly about family life, school, Hawkins being soul-destroying. But they also talk about their mutual friends and joke with each other. They find they have quite similar senses of humour.

Max thinks Eddie is weird but in a good way.

Eddie gives Max all the dirt and gossip on Lucas, Dustin and Mike.

Max asked Eddie to let her smoke a cigarette once. He said no and gave her a can of soda and a peanut butter cup he had in his pocket.

Eddie thinks it’s nice that both he and Max look like their moms.

Max talks Eddie’s ear off about comic books. Eddie doesn’t have a huge interest in superhero stuff but Wonder Woman does seem pretty sick.

Eddie and Max have a little group of stray cats that they play with and sort of look after. They’ve given each of them names. Some examples include Diana, Ronnie, Golem and Wolfgang.

Eddie and Max sometimes go on grocery trips together. Usually when her mom is at work and they need a lot of stuff so the van is helpful

Max swiped one of her mom’s beers, wrapped it in paper, put a funky tag on it and left it on Eddie’s porch for his birthday.

Max knows that Eddie hated Billy. She understands why and doesn’t blame him for it.

Max actually doesn’t mind heavy metal music.

Eddie is a closet Kate Bush fan. Her music is harmonic and kinda weird so he likes it.

#my writing #eddie #max #headcanons #fluff #i love these two very very much

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crumbingmask · 6 months

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Honey & Glass (Yullen, Rated T)

Chapter 2; I don't think you owe me much at all.

AO3

The days bleed into each other down here. Central sends in someone new everyday but they all ask the same things.

Where is Kanda Yu?

Allen will never tell them, he’s hidden them far out of the Order reach. It’s all he can do for them now, and it’s a secret that will die with him.

What did you do with Alma Karma?

Freed them; hopefully.

—

Allen has seen the tortured souls of the Akuma for six years now. He had sworn his life to fight them, to serve the Order.

The Black Order dedicated to stopping the Earl and eradicating the Akuma.

Kanda isn’t an Akuma but his creation was so much like one. A tragedy, a soul forcefully given new life.

—

It’s dark and musty in the cell he’s placed in. He hadn't even known the Order had jail cells.

With his sense of direction and the size of the new Headquarters maybe he would’ve found them under different circumstances.

His arms ache, bound together for days now with the seals from the Crows. He leans heavily against Timcanpy’s large form. Allen remembers when he was younger and slept against Tim like this all the time.

He’s glad that with the golem here, he isn’t alone.

Especially since Tim has tried to bite anyone attempting to move the golem out.

—

They bring in meals. His stomach aches and howls loudly for food, but Allen still refuses to eat.

He doesn’t trust what measures they’ll take to get him to talk.

Where is Kanda Yu?

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t know.

—

Sometimes when Allen dreams, when Mana isn’t cheerfully tugging him along a long narrow road, calling him by a name he can never remember. Though Allen is certain it is not his own.

He doesn’t like those dreams.

No, sometimes he sees Alma and a woman whose name he doesn’t know.

They sit in a pond, the calm water spanning with of infinite reach. He stands at the edge of water. Lotus blooms swaying as they call for him to join them while they wait, their beckoning is so welcoming.

Whenever he wakes, he always wants to cry. He doesn’t understand.

Where is Kanda Yu?

He’s gone. I’m so sorry. —

He never stays in one place long, Allen can't risk getting detected. Not by the Akuma or The Order.

Inhale.

He’s so fucking exhausted, his feet have been numb for an hour. He wonders if it’s sweat in his shoes or blood this time.

Exhale.

Too many innocent people will get hurt if they get too close to him, Apocryphos will do anything to get to him.

He has to keep walking. —

The moment Allen’s eyes landed on Kanda, several thoughts and confusing emotions occurred simultaneously.

First, the disbelief. The heart-stopping shock, paralyzing him.

Which is then followed by one of the most intensely nauseating floods of butterflies that begin fluttering in his stomach.

Because Kanda was right there! He was okay, as surly and beautiful as always.

Then following quickly behind that was anger.

Why the fuck is Kanda wearing that uniform? He’d survived, and went back?! Is he stupid?

Scratch that, Allen knows Kanda is stupid. He’d just thought he would’ve at least had more sense than this.

He had been free, he had the love of his lives returned to him. Yet, there he stood just mere feet away. It made no sense at all.

And fuck, he definitely can’t let Kanda know it’s him if he’s with the Order. He is a “fucking Noah” now, as Kanda had so eloquently stated during their last battle.

—

“What did I just say about being too rough!!” Johnny shouts at him and Walker yelps in discomfort, Kanda just tunes them out as he forcefully scrubs away the chalky white face paint. He doesn’t want to dare to hope. That it’s really Allen and not the imposter daring to wear his skin.

Until Walker swings his leg up, cracking Kanda in the back of the head with it. The impact of it is strong, but he remains above the brat, and keeps him pinned against the cobblestone.

“Are you trying to rub my face off, Kanda, you jerk!!” Stupid beansprout’s stupid fucking flexible legs. Pain spider-webs out from where Allen’s knee connected against his skull. It exacerbates that hangover that is slowly chipping away his brain.

Kanda stares down at Allen. His eyes are a brilliant silver, and so clearly irritated. Smeared paint covering his face. His mouth is stained red.

And all Kanda can think is. It’s you. It’s really you.

—

When Allen wakes up next the moon is high in the sky, the room he’s in is dark and quiet. The only sound is the slow sleeping breath of his two unexpected companions.

Johnny is in the bed across from his own, he has fallen asleep with his glasses on just like Allen used to see him do when he’d stop by the science division sometimes. He snores every once and while.

Kanda is on the couch, his elbow propped on the armrest, his head resting against his hand. Mugen is placed across his lap, like he’s in a position to be alert quickly.

He’s happy Kanda’s alive, but looking at him..hurts. Allen is used to looking at Kanda and feeling conflicted to say the least, but now seeing him here is extra bittersweet.

Because Kanda is fragile now. Allen knows he can die, realizes that fact and feels it in a visceral way.

So, Allen takes this moment to look at Kanda. Like really look at him while he’s got the opportunity.

Kanda’s hair has been returned to its original inky black, now neatly tied back into a low ponytail.

There’s no trace of the cracks that once made him look like a dilapidated statue.

Allen has always held a begrudging respect, even admiration for him. Though he’d never admit that to the bastard’s face. Kanda has always been a person Allen has seen as not needing his protection, he was more than capable of taking care of himself.

Allen remembers when Kanda had been teaching him to sword fight, after he’d first learned to summon the ark. Kanda had seemed so untouchable to him back then.

He always sneered in the face of danger, absolutely fearless and always came out on top. Strong and prideful, ready for a fight at any moment.

But those parts of Kanda no longer seem like a strength that he feels he should aspire towards.

Not when he knows exactly how Kanda even came to be the person he is now. When he knows intimately the pain and countless guilty, blood stained hands that made up Kanda Yu's very existence.

How many times has Kanda fought himself into the grave, just to piece himself back together than get up to do it all over again?

He had been curious once, just how Kanda could heal so quickly. Thinking about it now makes him feel sick. He hates knowing that a place he once thought of as home could be capable of such horrid things. Though Allen supposes that it was always the people that had felt like home, not the place.

Not like that matters anymore. It’s not like he'll be going back there. He’s not even sure he’d want to.

“It’s creepy to stare at people while they're sleeping, Walker.” Kanda says, “Shouldn’t you be asleep anyways?”

He jolts at the unexpected voice, “Motherfuc-“ Allen catches himself before he can finish the curse. Flicking his eyes over Johnny first to make sure he hadn’t woken him with his outburst.

He hears the huff of breath through Kanda’s nose, the closest approximation to amusement he ever gets to hear from him.

Then he looks back to meet Kanda’s now open eyes this time.

Allen doesn’t think he’s ever heard Kanda laugh, like actually laugh. At least, not this Kanda, he doesn’t want to count the younger Kanda he saw in Rhode’s trap. Those memories with Alma were never his to touch in the first place.

“Shut up..” Allen grumbled, embarrassed to be caught mooning over his apparently not actually sleeping companion. He flops backward onto the inn bed, but tilts his head to continue to look at Kanda sitting across from him.

“Is there a reason why you look like you were thinking so hard you were going to pop a blood vessel?” Kanda pauses for a moment, considering. “Either burst a vein or start crying like a baby.”

“I wasn’t going to cry!” Allen says affronted. Because he definitely can not tell this jerk how just looking at his stupid pretty face tore his heart up into bits.

“Well, you do have a history of being a crybaby.” Kanda says, looking unimpressed.

He feels familiar irritation flaring up at the comment. “I do not!” Allen says in a harsh whisper.

Because he’s not! Allen cries when it is reasonable! And when you deal with such tragedies as an exorcist, of course he's going to cry!

“God...I can’t believe I almost actually missed your shitty attitude.” Allen muttered. It’s the closest admission he can ever give to how much it had hurt to think he’d never see Kanda again. It would’ve been worth it, for him and Alma to have been happy together finally. That didn’t mean it hadn’t made him sad.

Kanda scoffs at him, "You're still too soft, you know.” but he isn’t scowling.

Instead when Kanda says it this time, it doesn’t feel so mean-spirited. Not like it was that first time in Mater. Now, it’s almost fond. Like when he’d said he was glad Allen had been there, when everything went to shit with Alma. It catches him off guard, and Allen tries and fails to not let that mean too much to him.

Allen Walker hasn’t ever loved anything in a way that didn’t hurt. Why should this be any different?

—

Allen is too silent, yet his misery is still an oppressive presence. He doesn’t cry. He stares forward, empty and hollowed out. At least back in Mater he’d cried over that stupid broken doll.

Kanda wishes he would react. Wants him to scream, lash out, and blame him. It’s partly his fault the golem is dust now anyways, right? Since it intervened with Apocryphos because of him.

Kanda wants to say something to comfort him, anything.

But because he’s Allen goddamn Walker, the single most infuriating and stupid fucking idiot martyr to have ever existed.

He pulls shit like this.

Walker finally looks up at him as the ark gate summons below him. Allen sounds truly apologetic when says he couldn’t tell him anything, and then he smiles, that pathetic fake smile with his sad silver eyes.

A fury flares explosive under his skin, because no fucking way Walker.

The Black Order, death and Alma had not been able to stop Kanda from following Allen Walker into hell.

You’re not weaseling away that easily, you little clown bastard.

—

Kanda doesn’t even like him. Why can’t he just make this one thing easy for Allen, and get away from him.

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Allen doesn’t understand why he’s being so persistent.

If he won’t leave, then Allen will make him.

They have done this before, strike for strike, barb for barb. He may not be in the best condition to match Kanda in combat but Allen can be just as venomous as Kanda in words.

Kanda has always had a way of getting a rise out of him. Dragging out an unwilling and ugly honesty in him that he can’t stand.

And Allen is more than well versed in getting under Kanda’s skin in return.

“What’s it matter to you?! I’m just a fucking Noah, anyway right?! It’s not like you care!”

“You’re not a fucking—“ Kanda had been near shouting until he pauses and Allen is almost certain Mugen was about to make an appearance. But instead, Kanda closed his eyes briefly, breathing deep and pressed the heel of palm to his temple.

When Kanda opened his eyes again, his gaze was intense. But he didn’t seem angry at him, per say. Which was surprising, Kanda could always find a reason to be mad at him.

“You’re Allen Walker, an exorcist no matter what, that’s what you told Lenalee.” As he speaks Kanda takes a step towards him, and Allen steps back. “And you told me that you wanted to be a destroyer who could save.”

Kanda takes another step toward but before Allen can back away this time, Kanda snitches the lapel of his coat and drags him in close.

Kanda's eyes were burning as he glared hard at Allen. His breath is warm where it brushes his face. Allen glares right back, there’s nothing Kanda could do to intimidate him.

The thing about Kanda is that his eyes are the most expressive part of him.

And right now, he looks so fucking sad. Allen hates it. When people look at him like that.

“You’ve never given up on a fight before.” Kanda says, “Why should the Fourteenth be any different?” He almost sounds disappointed in him.

If Kanda hadn’t had a grip on him, Allen feels like he would’ve physically recoiled at that.

”You were the one who said—“

”I know what I fucking said, Walker! And I was wrong, okay!?” The hands that grip Allen’s lapels are shaking. “Cut the shit, sprout. I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not gonna work.” His breathing is quick, panicking. Why is Kanda looking at him like that? It hurts. “Get it through your thick goddamn skull, I’m not leaving just because you love acting like you can handle everything on your own.”

“I don’t even want you here!” Allen’s voice is strangled, the lie dying in his throat. Leaving only the faltering protest behind.

Allen doesn’t know how to let him stay, because that’s just the first step of having to watch him leave for real. Maybe not today or even next month but Kanda will leave. Either in death or once he realizes that there’s no saving Allen.

“And you expect me to believe that?” Kanda tsked, “Usually you’re a better liar, Allen.”

He is stunned silent when Kanda calls him out so blatantly. Even more surprising though, is when Kanda uses the back of his semi-gloved hand to swipe under his eyes. Wiping the tears away with a gentleness Allen hadn’t conceived that Kanda was capable of.

Or at least, capable of showing to Allen. But in retrospect of everything he’s learned he doesn’t know about Kanda, maybe he should start preparing to continue to be surprised by him.

“Wow, even Bakanda can be sweet sometimes. It’s shocking, really.” He says. Mostly because he doesn’t know how else to respond to the way Kanda is looking at him. Allen averts his eyes, unsure of this unfamiliar kindness. He feels far warmer than the weather around should allow. This is terrible.

“Who the fuck are you calling sweet, crybaby.” Kanda scoffed, still more amused than truly annoyed.

“Am not!” Allen insisted, crossing his arms. “You just gave me a motivational speech about not giving up and you’re not even going to let me enjoy it, are you?”

Kanda steps away from him, ”You not giving up will literally help stop the hostile takeover of whatever brain you’ve got left.” He says, reaching out enough to flick the star that scars Allen’s forehead.

Allen reaches up to touch the cursed mark, frowning at Kanda. “See, that’s exactly what I meant. You’re no fun.”

“Shut the fuck up, Walker.”

“Aw, c’mon! At least call me Allen again. That’s much nicer.”

“I can stab you again at any time, you know.”

“Of course, you could. But BaKanda wouldn’t that be the opposite of helping protect me? And when we find him again, I’ll tell Johnny you’ve been bullying me.”

“God, you’re so annoying.” Kanda grumbled at him. “..Might be worth it, if it means you’ll stop talking, you brat.”

“Let it be known, most people find me incredibly charming.” Then obviously, to prove his point, Allen sticks tongue out at him.

Kanda looks at him, seeming very unimpressed and raises an eyebrow at him. “Right, and that’s definitely helping your case.”

—

Alma, would it be wrong to want to stay with him just a little longer?

Allen doesn’t want to be selfish but he just doesn’t think he can take it alone any longer. Alma would understand that better than anyone, wouldn’t he? Would understand all the love Allen keeps trying to smother before it can blossom out of his tender heart.

Please, Alma. Don’t hate me for this, Allen prays.

—

The train platform is crowded. He’s terrified to look anyone in the face too long. His eye hasn’t picked up any Akuma yet. That’s just making the anticipation worse. Allen knows they’ll come. The Akuma, the Noah.

Inhale. It hurts to breathe. Exhale. Is he blacking out? Oh fuck. He’s so overwhelmed with everything that’s happened.

Apocryphos, The Order, The Earl...Mana. Not to forget the demon clawing its way out from inside.

And then, someone grabs his hand. “Allen. Look at me.”

Inhale. It hurts.

Allen feels like he’s going to be sick.

Exhale. Allen looks at him.

“Take another breath, sprout.” Kanda says, squeezing tightly once. "You're going to pass out like that.”

Everything closing in to snuff Allen Walker out. Yet, Kanda Yu has remained.

This is the closest extended contact he’s had with someone that wasn’t trying to kill him lately. He doesn’t know what to do with his arms. He remembers when Kanda refused to shake hands with a cursed person like him.

Should he move away? He should let his hand go.

Inhale.

“Just breathe like me.” Another squeeze.

Allen is touched and also continuously confused by this softer side Kanda keeps showing to him. Before Alma, Allen wouldn’t have thought Kanda was capable of such things but now...it’s something.

Exhale.

He can’t say it to his face but he does need Kanda to know how much this means to him. Allen rests his forehead on Kanda's shoulder. Kanda tenses for a moment, his posture rigid and Allen is almost certain he was going to move away. But he relaxes instead, allowing Allen to cling to him.

His hair is soft against his cheek, and it smells clean. Maybe a little like flowers. He feels his heart beat a little harder in his chest.

“I’m really glad that you’re here.” Allen mutters from his hiding place against Kanda’s chest.

—

He sometimes wishes Timcanpy or Johnny were here too, then at least he could’ve pretended that this was just another mission. Missions with Kanda had been normal, not...whatever this is.

Running away together to..save him?

Allen’s eyes trace over the black lines down Kanda's arm from his own curse mark. He had removed the Order's coat once they’d settled on the train. Does he know that Allen despises seeing him in that uniform?

Kanda isn’t turned toward him, his gaze is following the scenery flying past. Kanda is still gently holding his clawed hand.

Exhausted, he finally shuts his eyes. Kanda will take care of him.

—

Awareness comes back to him slowly, creeping in gradually like the morning sun.

He’s so warm. It’s nice, after all the time he’d spent sleeping in alleyways dodging Apocryphos.

He hadn’t dreamt at all. Allen doesn’t even recall the last time that happened because even in his sleep he’s pursued by the Fourteenth’s fractured memories.

It really feels like the first time he’s truly slept in years.

Beside him, Kanda is still asleep. He has one arm propped on the train seat arm, like he had at the inn the other night. Which feels like a lifetime ago now.

His other arm is tucked behind Allen’s back. Kanda’s hand rests upon the place he had stabbed Allen in his rampage to fight Alma. The heat of his palm soothes the sharp ache of the healing wound on his hip.

Allen is somewhat surprised that he’s awake before Kanda. But then again, in between Allen’s consciousness being..inconsistent and Johnny definitely hadn’t been a fighter. It had been Kanda’s job alone to be on the defensive. He’d probably been just as exhausted as Allen himself.

Kanda’s face is relaxed in a way it never is when he’s awake. His breathing is slow and rhythmic, reminiscent of how he breathes when he’s meditating. Or guiding Allen though another panic attack.

Allen reaches up to brush the hair away from Kanda’s face, tucking the stray hair behind his ear.

Kanda catches Allen’s cursed hand before he can pull it away pressing it to his cheek, and when Allen looks up to meet his gaze, Kanda’s eyes seem unfocused like he’s still half asleep. Still dreaming.

“You’re still Allen..that’s good.” His voice is rough from disuse, but gentle in tone nonetheless.

“Y-yeah, I’m..still me.” Allen can feel his face heating up fast against his will, he will not blush just because of Kanda using his name like a person should. Absolutely not.

The grip on his hand slackens after that, and the heat that sweetly hums under Allen’s skin fills him with the urge to run, run away right now. Away from Kanda and whatever trouble this feeling is bound to get them into.

He’s already tried that though, and thus far has failed to shake Kanda off. Devoted as Kanda seems to be to making sure Allen is always in his line of sight these days.

Allen knows exactly how that feels. He's not exactly eager to let Kanda go again either. So instead, Allen tightens his grasp in return.

Running away together to save each other, maybe.

That’s how Allen likes to think of it anyway.

#cross posted on ao3 #my fics #d.gray man #yullen #arekan #kanda x allen #updated; ao3 version to be fixed up later.

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