#(specifically grant cause he's been in the box a while)

[zyafics]

I LOVE YOU SO | Rafe Cameron

MASTERLIST (Imagine)

Pairing — Ex!Rafe x Engaged!Female Reader

Content — ex-lovers au, hurt/no comfort, right person/wrong time

Word Count — 1.6K

lıllılı I Love You So by The Walters

THINKING ABOUT... when Rafe heard about your engagement, he nearly drank himself to death.

THINKING ABOUT... how the invitation sat on the kitchen counter, next to empty bottles of whiskey. He hoped to drown himself in liquor and forget the taste of you—but nothing remedied that pain. His fingers traced over the sharp edge of the card to the calligraphy that spelled your name alongside your soon-to-be-husband's.

THINKING ABOUT... how it should've been him.

THINKING ABOUT... how Sarah found him. It had been days since she heard from her older brother and decided to drop by Tannyhill. When she discovered wasn't a pretty sight. He was still feeding himself on alcohol—and alcohol alone—while staring at the name on the card, gripped in his hand as if it was his own personal damnation. He knew, without a doubt, that the invitation was a common courtesy. Forged out of respect and generational relationships on Kildare. It wasn't a true invite—not to him, at least.

THINKING ABOUT... how Sarah tried to help him clean up. Tried to take the glass from his hand, which he accepted. Tried to pull him up from the couch and push him into the bathroom, which he agreed. Tried to rip the card from his hand—which he refused. She never liked seeing her brother in such despair, and despite knowing the long history you shared with him, she didn't want him to get wasted on the forgotten thought of you.

THINKING ABOUT... when Rafe exited the shower, fresh and clean from the oozing smell of alcohol, Sarah had the card in her hands. She noted that Rafe hadn't checked a box—an ACCEPT or DECLINE. And when she asked him if he was going to attend, he didn't give an answer.

THINKING ABOUT... how you're marrying a man who loved you. He cherished you and saw you as the apple of his eye. It was different from your other relationship. Granted, you only have one before him, but you can tell the difference. It was calm, safe and warm. It didn't shake you to your core, it didn't have you screaming at three am, it didn't have to be hard. It was good. Healthy. It was soon to be yours.

THINKING ABOUT... how this wasn't the dream wedding you wanted since you were a little girl. Sure, it had most of the elements: the ceremony at the church, the gorgeous bouquet in your hands, the perfect ensemble of bridesmaids. But it wasn't exactly how you pictured it. It wasn't within the season you wanted, it wasn't outdoors like you imagined. It didn't have the specific floral arrangement you asked for, and it didn't have the boy you were going to meet at the end of the aisle.

THINKING ABOUT... how it felt all wrong.

THINKING ABOUT... how you couldn't breathe in your room. All the guests had settled in, all of them waiting for the bride to begin her descent. You were pacing around, to the comforting reassurances of your bridesmaids, but to no avail. You needed air. You needed to step out.

THINKING ABOUT... how you saw him when you stepped into the empty courtyard. Everyone had taken their seats, but not Rafe. He was standing outside, holding something you were certain to be a flask. You hadn't expected him to show. You weren't sure if you wanted him to. But when your heels clicked against the cobblestone and alerted Rafe of your presence—he twisted his head and your eyes finally locked.

THINKING ABOUT... how it was a slow and mesmerizing descent. You approached him with caution, as if you were approaching a wild animal and one wrong move could cause him to run. You shared no words, no thoughts, nothing. But the silence was communal and appreciated. When you made it against the barricade, Rafe did nothing but offer you his flask.

THINKING ABOUT... how his hand stretched out, flexing underneath his tailored suit. You stepped up to gingerly accept it—tasting the bitter alcohol slid down your throat and the closest remnant of his lips. You didn't say anything for the next few minutes, not even a paid gratitude, because you didn't know how to. it was Rafe who decided to speak up first.

THINKING ABOUT... how Rafe didn't look at you as he talked. His attention paid to the lot of the church, his words a whisper against the whistling wind. He depicted his own imagination—how he would've done it. How he would've gotten on one knee in that little park the two of you always went together. How it would've been a beach wedding because you always loved the ocean. How he would've gotten a wedding band with sapphires because you adored the color.

THINKING ABOUT... how Rafe rambled about the what ifs until you told him to stop.

THINKING ABOUT... how there was a palpable silence that sat between you as you handed him back his flask. Your head a little light, your heart a little heavy. You should've gone back to the church, to the awaiting audience of your family and friends, but you stood still. You wanted this time, this space, this moment with Rafe because you were certain it was going to be your last.

THINKING ABOUT... how Rafe had enough and stepped forward to cup your face. His cerulean eyes fell to your lips before eyeing every little expression, memorizing every little detail. "It should've been me," he murmured, running his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the last drop of his whiskey. His jaw ticked as he forced out the next sentence. "Why isn't it me?"

THINKING ABOUT... how you said nothing. You both knew the reasons, but neither of you wanted to accept it. Rafe had prioritized himself over your relationship, again and again, and there was nothing but a hollowness by the end of it. He loved you, you knew that for certain, but it was also not enough.

THINKING ABOUT... how you had to step back. You pushed him away, needing another clarifying breath of air. Rafe didn't move from his spot, simply slipped his thumb into his mouth, tasting the last drop, before you shook your head. "What are you doing here?" You demanded, because despite knowing everything going on inside the church, everyone waiting for you, you still were the same person you were years back—with him.

THINKING ABOUT... how Rafe couldn't answer fully. He didn't know why he was here. He didn't know what compelled him to put himself through the agonizing pain of seeing the love of his life walk down the aisle of her wedding, toward a man that wasn't him. It was sadistic, a need to feel the depth of his mistakes, and perhaps, even a last shot of hope for him to remedy it.

THINKING ABOUT... how he apologized. It had surprised you to hear the words spill from his lips because Rafe had always been stubborn in handing them out. He saw himself above such expressions and held his pride too high. But it was his last shot. And he wanted to make his amends before it was too late.

THINKING ABOUT... how there was a silence when he finished his speech. How he expressed regret for how he treated you, how he made you feel, in how he was as a past partner. You had nothing while you held onto those words because they were something you wished for all your life. But, now it came. A little too much. A little too late.

THINKING ABOUT... how you forgave him. And it wasn't fair. You had always been too kind and understanding. He was the one repenting but you had already given him the forgiveness he hadn't yet sought for. You've been told that you should make him suffer. Beg for it. But you didn't. Because you knew what he had been through. What good does it do to inflict suffering when neither of you enjoys it?

THINKING ABOUT... how Rafe had nothing else to say. Didn't know what to think of. Wait, yes, he did—he had hoped it would be enough. That you would hear his words and be a runaway bride for him. But you didn't. You remained stationed in your spot, your eyes intermittently flickering toward the entrance of the church. It wasn't until one of your bridesmaids came to collect you—warning you it was time, that he realized there was nothing else to do.

THINKING ABOUT... how you hesitantly bid him goodbye. You were going to see him during the reception, but Rafe didn't answer you. When you finally close the distance towards your bridesmaid, you spare one last glance at him—Rafe Cameron, your first love, the person who had half of your heart, the one who didn't do enough—and step back into the church.

THINKING ABOUT... how you didn't see him when you walked down the aisle. Or when you came around to take pictures. Or when the reception was held. You should feel ashamed for seeking out another man when your fiance—now husband—had his hand on your waist, his eyes filled with adornment for you. But you couldn't help yourself.

THINKING ABOUT... how you tried to forget. Tried to enjoy your day, your wedding. As the night came to an end, your husband carried you back to your new home. But what you weren't expecting was a surprise.

THINKING ABOUT... how there's an arrangement of bouquets outside your new home. It was in the exact precise order you wanted for your dream wedding. It was littered all over your front lawn, spilled with rich colors and florals that you gasped at the sight. You didn't know who it was from—neither did your husband. But when you approached the door, there was a note taped to the front.

THINKING ABOUT... how it was from Rafe. An apology and a gift wrapped in one. It didn't say much, but you didn't need it to. You knew his guilt, you knew his regret, but you knew his concession. And this, this was his last offering before he finally let you go.

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[swannbluana]

pt. 1: an analysis of the different vedic themes within miraculous ladybug

before the days got filled with responsibilities, i was an avid miraculous ladybug watcher. to this day, i still keep up with the show during my free time. throughout these past few years, i’ve deep dived into the knowledge of vedic astrology and progressively started to recognize themes present in the show that coincided with certain nakshatras. this is part one of my research, a deep dive into the vedic astrology of miraculous: the tales of ladybug and cat noir. 

TW: themes of death are discussed. 

-> i used the birthdays of the voice actors and actresses to confirm my findings.

director [thomas astruc]: uttara bhadrapada moon & uttara ashadha sun

gabriel agreste/hawkmoth [keith silverstein]: vishakha moon & mula sun [as the show progresses, his name changes to monarch, however i'm going to refer to him as hawkmoth throughout the analysis].

marinette dupain-cheng/ladybug [cristina vee]: uttara ashadha moon & punarvasu sun

adrien agreste/cat noir [bryce papenbrook]: magha moon & shatabhisha sun

chloe bourgeois [selah victor]: anuradha/jyeshta moon & ashwini sun 

-> definitions

miraculous: magical jewelry containing hidden powers that transforms the wearers into animal-themed superpowered beings.

miracle box: holds all 36 miraculouses when they aren’t in use. 

akumatized: regular people who are transformed into villains. 

cataclysm: the superpower to destroy anything the person touches.

absolute wish: aka the ultimate miraculous absolute power, grants a person one wish to ask for anything in the universe. 

this analysis of the show is my interpretation and is all up for interpretation! 

please credit if shared through any type of means! 

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before discussing specific characters, i wanted to highlight the director’s nakshatras. there were a few instances where i saw his uttara bhadrapada moon and uttara ashadha sun being expressed. firstly, the main antagonist of the show is the holder of the butterfly miraculous who operates away from the public eye. butterfly imagery has repeatedly been used to symbolize the transformation of uttara bhadrapada natives; like a butterfly leaving its cocoon, the native rises from the ashes. he controls the villainous acts conducted in the city behind the scenes. the deity of uttara bhadrapada, ahirbudhnya, is separated from society as the serpent of the deep sea, living at the bottom of the ocean. also, it’s a saturn nakshatra and the planet, saturn, is associated with control. the majority of his villain attire is a deep purple color and the representative color of this nakshatra is purple. in addition, the main protagonist in the show comes from a normal middle-class family and her love interest (also a main protagonist) comes from a wealthy family. she doesn’t pay mind to his money, but is in love with his character. she has ambitions of her own and wants to become a famous fashion designer. this is reminiscent of uttara bhadrapada being coined as the cinderella nakshatra by claire nakti. despite the challenges that come her way, she remains pure-hearted while simultaneously unlocking and building the inner strength and drive to push forward towards her life desires (and push forward in life in general) which is a reason why her love interest falls for her. moreover, uttara bhadrapada is called the warrior star and uttara ashadha has the power to give an unstoppable victory. throughout the show, these themes play out for the two protagonists (who are superheroes) as they win most of their battles. uttara ashadha “fights for a righteous cause for the benefit of all,” and the two fight to defeat the evil in the city to protect all of its civilians. in relation to the main antagonist, he creates and distributes alliance rings to the general public. the rings function like a smartphone, but on the other hand, it is used to transfer powers to his akumatized victims. the uttara ashadha nakshatra is known for forming alliances to achieve great results, and the villain uses the ring users as a strategy to win against the superheroes. now lets start to break down the connections between the nakshatras and characters in the series.

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let’s begin with the world-renowned fashion mogul and father, gabriel agreste being a negative manifestation of vishakha and mula. he is a well-known, paris-based designer and father to adrien agreste, who typically wears a light, but bold palette of clothing consisting mainly of white and red. in the beginning, he comes across as a reserved and strict individual who’s passionate about his craft. soon after, we learn he’s not just a normal citizen, but the villain of the show, hawkmoth. as hawkmoth, he wears a dark palette of clothing consisting mainly of dark purple with gray and black accents. hawkmoth comes across as an ambitious, scheming, and relentless individual. this physical representation of duality, of his true self versus his shadow-side, brings the vishakha nakshatra to mind. the meaning of vishakha is the forked branch alluding to opposite ways or paths in life–two extremities, and in this matter, gabriel has a double life. vishakha is a jupiter nakshatra and jupiter is the planet of duality–dual personality. in addition, vishakha has a pair of two deities in one body referred to as indragni: indra, the chief of gods, also the god of transformation and lightning, as well as agni, the god of fire. there comes a time when these natives' naively generous approach to life doesn’t work when attempting to attain their desires, so they create an opposite persona–an alter ego/their shadow self. due to jupiter’s expansiveness they’re able to maintain it for some time, however the continuous growth can lead to instability as saturn is not present to balance and integrate the two vastly different energies into one. it can come to a point where they disregard their true selves in favor of the alter ego. 

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gabriel did not behave in this manner previously; the reason for his antagonistic behavior leads back to his wife. his wife, emilie agreste, fell into a coma after using the power of a broken peacock miraculous they found while on vacation (along with the butterfly miraculous) to become pregnant and give birth to their son, adrien. since emilie fell into a coma, gabriel became obsessed with taking the miraculouses from the two superheroes, ladybug and cat noir, because having both together grants a person an absolute wish. he wants to bring her back to life and this obsession with relieving his and his son’s grief triggers him to bring forth his shadow side and become the villain we see in the show. his obsessive tendencies is a direct reflection of his vishakha moon as the moon is debilitated in this nakshatra (specifically the scorpio portion, but he’s a libra moon). jupiter is the planet of expansion while venus is the planet that deals with relationships, encompassing romantic relationships. this combination in libra vishakha creates a focus on their relations to others and in this context, romantic relations. venus also relates to pleasure and with jupiter being unrestricted, it can indulge in something with no limits and this can lead to obsessive tendencies. too much excess, too much growth results in instability cause there’s no control, which is why the alter ego vishakha creates becomes hard to maintain as it starts to take over the natives life. in connection, there’s an episode called destruction where cat noir cataclysms hawkmoth’s arm and it leaves a dark spot. there’s only a matter of time before the dark spot spreads to the rest of his body, he decays, and ultimately passes away. gabriel became so engrossed with achieving his goal as hawkmoth, now he’s paying the consequence in his actual reality as death is around the corner (and this is reminiscent to mula and mula’s association to kali, the goddess of time and death). as the star of purpose, these natives will achieve anything they set their minds to through any means necessary, not minding if it’s through what others may deem as unethical ways (but the natives themselves may not see it as that or they just don’t care). yet, it exemplifies the overwhelming devotion and fixation of vishakha to their partners and goals (which stabilizes in the next nakshatra, anuradha). however, his inability to let go of the past and accept his reality leads to destruction. 

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gabriel’s sun is ketu-ruled in the mula nakshatra which means “the root” and its symbol consists of roots tied together. the deity of this nakshatra is nirriti: the goddess of decay, destruction, and calamity, lives in the kingdom of the dead. the function of ketu is to detach and represents the past, however the viewers watch the negative expression of ketu manifest in him clinging to what once was. gabriel intends to resurrect his wife, so her body is preserved in a glass coffin in a spacious underground garden filled with trees within his house. the residence of emilie’s body within a garden of trees is symbolic to mula’s connection to the roots of a tree (and vishakha’s symbol of a tree with spreading branches). she is the root of gabriel and hawkmoth’s actions. everything he does leads back to her and everything is for her to live again. she's his hidden motivation and he is willing to do anything to revive her consciousness. after much effort, in the end he did obtain the ladybug and cat noir miraculouses (and every other miraculous) which highlights vishakha’s ability to succeed. however, he didn’t wish to resurrect his wife like he was originally planning to because he wasn’t going to live much longer. he didn’t want his wife to experience the grief of his passing once she woke up. he also deliberated over who was going to take care of his son, adrien, if he and his assistant (who takes care of him and whose health’s in danger) were no longer around. so, instead of indulging his own desires, in the season five finale called re-creation, gabriel agreste decides to use the absolute wish to sacrifice himself to salvage the health of his assistant, nathalie, and to reunite with his wife in the afterlife (the wish must maintain the balance in the universe so it’s a give-and-take type of wish). by doing this, their current universe is destroyed and then re-created which connects to mula’s shakti, to destroy or break things apart. also, it supports the overall theme of mula, in order for creation to take place, destruction must occur–they’re two sides of the same coin. at first, he was willing to destroy everything for his own personal gain, but in the end, uses the power of the wish to help another person which demonstrates his own personal transformation. he becomes liberated from the desires that ended up destroying him and from his role as hawkmoth. 

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additionally, there is another way gabriel channels his vishakha and mula placements and it’s through the actions of hawkmoth. hawkmoth uses the butterfly miraculous to bring calamity throughout the city of paris by akumatizing innocent civilians. to start, once he finds an individual feeling any type of negative emotion, he locks them as his target and sends an akuma their way. an akuma is originally a pure, white butterfly that hawkmoth transforms into a corrupted black butterfly with purple lightning streaks filled with malicious intention. the design and transformation of the butterfly connects to indra, the god of transformation and lightning. the akuma flies to the civilian, then latches onto a special valuable of theirs that’s in direct relation to their negative emotions. he uses the akuma as a medium to exacerbate their feelings and communicate with them–basically, a form of possession. hawkmoth ensures he’ll help them satiate their emotions in exchange for the ladybug and cat noir miraculouses. after the person agrees to the exchange, they transform into a villain and become obsessive over achieving their objective. this process of hawkmoth bringing forth the person’s shadow side to make them obsess over succeeding connects to the transformational and obsessive aspect of vishakha as well as its shakti is to achieve many and various fruits in life. the newly-emerged villains use their powers to disturb and destroy the city relating to the evil use of mula’s powers. both nakshatras connect to jupiter, and jupiter is the planet of war. this shows how the great benefic, if not controlled, can lead to great disaster. soon after the akumatization, ladybug and cat noir come out to defend, protect, and save the city and the victim.

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-> part two of the mlb vedic analysis

[twelvebooksstuff]

Jurassic Park in the Hunger Games Universe Ideas

So these are some ideas that are essentially fan fiction for how the Jurassic Park character would be as Victors in the Hunger Games universe. I’m starting with characters from the books/first two films.

Ideas incoming:

Alan Grant-pickaxe weapon, dealt with reptilian mutts talent is illustration (ie scientific illustration)-Badlands inspired arena 

Ellie Sattler-knife and poison for weapon-uses plants to survive and to kill-talent is gardening-floodplains ecosystem

Ian Malcolm-predicts what will happen, hides and survives (this is basically his weapon)-made to suffer post-victory with a leg injury, so that they eventually have to amputate it, replacement leg has to constantly be repaired in the Capital or else it will release some sort of poison, slowly killing him-this is a punishment for “outsmarting” gamemakers-talent-digital art

Kelly Curtis (Book version, not related to Ian Malcolm)-darts for her weapon, uses lots of out of the box thinking to survive, also builds vehicles…talent is bicycle riding

Arby Benton-tech? breaks into computers in the arena, puts clues together and when he succeeds, gets trapped in a bunkers while a disaster occurs and thus survives-talent is making video  games-

Jack Thorne (Doc Thorne)-solar powered weapons, diy’d them in the arena has a ton of survival skills as well-talent is robotics

Eddie Carr-one of Thorne’s tributes who died in the arena…or who was killed afterwards in a suspiciously timed accident

Richard Levine-Career tribute who survives through sponsors and being the last one standing…he doesn’t have a weapon…talent is rock collecting

Donald Gennaro-A tribute who uses fire as his weapon…burns a large area to the ground and is the last one standing- talent is theatrical performance (acting)

Henry Wu-A career who uses his knowledge of biotechnology to survive-probably a sci fi heavy arena-poison needles are his weapon-talent is genetic engineering-I think this is realistic for a career tribute to have

Ray Arnold-A career who builds an underwater weapon in a water based arena, talent-sailboating

Robert Muldoon-a career whose parents make the hunting weapons for the capital, weapon is a rocket which he’s been using forever-talent architectural design

Ed Regis-Wins with his PR prowress and manipulation of the press…once he becomes a mentor his district gets more victors -talent-video editing

Dr. Gerry Harding-weapon is snake venom, while in the arena he befriends mockingjays since he’s an avian vet specifically this causes him to be one of the tributes whose daughter was intentionally reaped later on…talent is veterinary medicine-think it makes sense to let him have that if he’s from an animal husbandry district and it would play well with propaganda-ie look what he gets to do his passion, and also makes the birds and snakes seem less rebellious

Dr. Sarah Harding-daughter of Dr. Gerry Harding who is being punished with her reaping-paralyzing serum for her weapon, finds out how to survive by following the animals, builds a treehouse-talent is horseback riding 

Hammond-is either head gamemaker/retired or a dictator, not sure what I want to do besides have him be from the Capital

[theamberplumbob]

The Bride of Straud: Chapter 6

Vlad tasked himself with overseeing Ophelia’s education personally. He would teach her all the important skills that she would need to know in order to be a proper heir to the throne. This included other enriching activities such as exercising her imagination and developing a love for the arts.

This mostly meant playing dolls and Vlad playing the violin for her. Claudia suspected he simply wanted to spend time with his child, which she couldn’t complain about, since it gave her time to do other things, like flirt with Mehdi.

As it turned out, Mehdi actually had a very personal relationship with Vlad. They both shared a love of music, which is why he’d been so willing to employ Mehdi as opposed to simply drinking from him like the other debtors. It is also why Vlad was so strict when it came to people drinking from him specifically.

Claudia asked what it was that put him in Vlad’s dept. He replied that he’d been granted immortality.

Claudia asked just how loyal he was to Vlad, to which he replied that he found himself being far more loyal to her. That was good to hear. Mehdi was kind and accommodating, however, his smiling demeanor merely hid his ruthless nature. He would make for an incredibly powerful ally. 

Since a sufficient amount of time had passed, Claudia felt it was high time to invite Bella Goth out, and enter the next phase of the plan she had for her.

The two went to the Willow Creek Museum together. Though, they honestly found the museum quite lacking. Both had a fine eye for art, and neither were exactly impressed. Claudia pointed out how beautiful the swamp lands looked in the fall, and asked Bella if she’d like to go out on a walk.

Bella, desperate to get out of the stuffy museum, agreed. The two walked deep into the marsh lands, away from the homes and businesses and people. That’s when Claudia stopped them, put Bella Goth into a trance, and kidnapped her.

When Claudia returned to the mansion with a sleep walking Bella in tow, she brought her up to the room she used to stay in as a human. That’s where she turned Bella, tucked her into bed, and then locked her in.

When Bella Goth awoke she panicked. She may have worked for a Secret Intelligence Agency, but she was only an intelligence researcher. She wasn’t prepared for a situation like this.

Bella was also panicked by the sharp pain in her stomach, and the fact that she was starving. Finally, an hour after waking up, Claudia entered the room with a meal made by Mehdi.

Bella Goth was furious with her. She yelled and screamed and Claudia sat calmly and took it. Claudia explained what little she could, but Bella wasn’t having it. After a while, Claudia simply left Bella’s food on the mantle of the fire place, and left the room.

Enraged by Bella’s audacity, Claudia blew off some steam by boxing, and then called up the blood debtors and drank one of them to death. She felt a lot better after that. She got to have a friendly chat with Grimm. They had both had bad days, and they both had lifted each other’s spirits. The two became best friends.

Bella also felt a lot better after eating. Not good, of course. She was scared out of her life and missed her husband and kids. She’d spent hours in her room alone, then suddenly, the ghost of Ekram Elderberry appeared in her room.

Ekram was a mean, crotchety old man, but he was someone to speak with. Ekram told her his story of how he’d made a deal with Vlad, and how it led to the death of him and his wife. Mehdi overheard this conversation and decided to come and intervene. Mehdi reminded Ekram of why he’d made a deal with Vlad in the first place.

He used his dark pact with Vlad to force his wife, Eleanore, to fall in love with him after multiple rejections. This forced change of character caused her to drop out of university, give up her passions, and become his full time housewife.

Bella was shocked. Perhaps he had deserved his grim fate. After Ekram’s spirit disappeared out of shame, Mehdi had a nice, long chat with Bella in which he described all the amazing opportunities Vlad and Claudia had provided for him.

While Bella wasn’t entirely convinced that Claudia was the saint Mehdi made her out to be, she was starting to question her judgement.

Meanwhile, Claudia was having another rendezvous with Caleb. Ever since Ophelia had been born, Caleb wanted to know everything about her, and asked to be updated on everything Ophelia related at the start of each of their meetings. Claudia was getting kind of annoyed by it, but she humored him. She told him everything she could, and even surprised him with a copy of a picture she took of her. He cherished it.

When Claudia returned she found Alice in one of the hallways. Claudia approached and Alice lit up (literally). The two conversed, and then Claudia revealed she was devising a plan. A plan to possibly bring Alice back to life and make her immortal. Alice was ecstatic. Full of hope, Alice evaporated. Claudia would let her know when the time was right.

As days passed and Bella continued to turn, her grip on reality started slipping. Being locked in the room for who knows how long, she became desperate for human interaction. At this point, she yearned for when Mehdi or Claudia came into the room. She’d grown to appreciate them and the time they took out of the day to talk with her.

Mehdi had won her trust with his kind smile and the consideration he took in her condition as a turning vampire. If he claimed that there was more to Claudia and Vlad than one would initially think, then he must have been right.

Claudia had been nothing but patient with Bella, and had been so reassuring, giving her advice on how to deal with the pain, and telling her what to expect as someone who had gone through the same thing not long before.

Now that Bella was willing to listen, Claudia told her all about vampires, their history, their role in society, as well as her own personal story. Claudia was a mother too, and she loved her husband. Just like Bella. Also like Bella, she wanted to do good in the world, and being a vampire gave her the power to do that.

Unfortunately, it meant making some sacrifices, like Ekram and his wife. Though, Claudia assured her that they were doing good work.

Bella wanted to do good work. It was why she joined S.I.M.S., but she’d been a member of the organization for so long, and she’d barely been able to climb the corporate latter. Though that didn't mean she wasn't privy to the business they conducted. It was grizzly, but necessary. So she could understand what Claudia was saying, and somehow, it all made sense.

She believed Claudia, she believed Mehdi. They were giving her an opportunity. An opportunity to be powerful and to use that power for good. She was going to use it.

Finally, one night, when Mehdi came in to check on her, the vampiric energy overtook Bella. She began floating in the air, and at last, her transformation was complete.

[sol-consort]

I didn't expect the Thane post, i even forgot my og ask, but by chance, I saw it scrolling through my homefeed (which i dont often check bc im not super active on tumblr) and omfggg, the scream I scrumpt. What a happy suprise! We Thanemancers got fed GOOD. Thank you. My heart feels healed. Now, I will need to invest in creating a time machine, clone you, and send your clone back in time to work on me3. Perhaps make a whole army of clones to make each clone work on the writing for every romance. The Kolyat inclusion is peak. Thank you for not forgetting Kolyat, he really is so inportant to Thane. Geniunly made my entire week. I want to print your post out and chew on it everyday. Thank you!

🫡

I felt bad for taking so long because the chances of the original requester actually seeing the finished fic got more and more slim by the day.

And by some twist of fate you actually end up seeing it!! Even though I only started being active again a couple days ago?? Even though you rarely open tumblr??? The fact it was on your homepage rather than you specifically looking for stuff on the Thane x Reader tag???

I'm beyond happy <333

Most of all, I'm really glad you liked it! That fic might not have been the most intricate vocabulary wise, but god, it drained me creativity wise, having to come up with scene after scene, second doubting myself, erasing and rewriting.

I will never underestimate storyboard writers and script makers after this. It felt like a world champion boxing match where I only managed to win by an inch. Damn that story got hands.

I had to scrab the whole Party and Identity Theft II mission stages because words wouldn't register in my brain anymore. Maybe in the future I'll go back and add them, but for now I'm clinging to my beloved short drabbles.

Then there was this whole letting it rot in my draft for months out of petty bc I thought no one was reading my stuff either way, what's the point in posting it– I got upset at the idea I spent so much effort on one story only for it to possibly end up never read by a single person.

I tried not to gloss over Thane's condition or his impending doom. I didn't want it to be a full escapism–which is ironically my ideal style–but a proper sweet goodbye, a final dance, the chance to experience life by his side a little bit more, a small extension on the deadline before the curtains fall.

And I wanted Kolyat to share the spotlight as well, he deserved so much more. Shepard was there during the confrontation, aware of it or not, you were a turning point in his life as much as his father finally stepping up to take full responsibility for his past actions.

Kolyat and Grunt being best friends came out of nowhere tbh, at that point the characters had a mind of their own. And it hit me, Kolyat grew in the hanar world, it's mostly oceans, he must have gone to swim a lot, he definitely knows about the aquatic life.

What if I give him an interest in marine biology? What if that's what he's persuing in his study in uni, hanar granted him a fully paid scholarship—another bittersweet benefit he got handed in exchange for the ruthless job his father took—while working a part-time job himself, living in a modest apartment and leading an independent life.

But Kolyat is a loner. He has no friends, no significant other, or even pets. Which causes Thane great concern, Drell society values finding a parter a lot. Maybe that's why Thane moved into his apartment to help make him feel less lonely and subtly push him into making friends. Blaming himself for Kolyat's antisocial nature.

So, with Grunt being very fascinated by sharks, a massive extrovert, a natural leader personality, zero hesitation to speak his mind and aim for what he wants. He makes the ideal friend for Kolyat!

-

The wedding imagery and symbolism in the casino stage are my absolute favourite details. Part of it was because I saw a mod for "wedding dresses" back when I was playing ME2 for the first time, scrolling through the mods page for a nice looking dress to use in the casino mission.

Writing Thane's distraction lines was fun ngl. One scrapped line was about him walking up to a human security guard, mentioning how he's actually dating a human and wanted to get some advice on how to woo you and act, what do humans consider romantic?

But then I remembered Garrus has a similar line, just a little more sexual and I didn't want there to be repetition.

Thane didn't seem like the type to hit on the security guards like other characters, even as mere pretend. He's too devoted to his partner for that. Half of his lines were genuine, wanting to hear about the human's family back on earth as a way to help them vent.

-

Lastly, you're so kind <3 Thank you so much for your sweet words fosjofjskfks It made me so happy to receive this. I never expected it, which made it just more sweeter.

100% on board with the whole cloning thing, it should've been me on that ME3 writing board! I would've given Cerberus justice I swear! I would've kept Thane alive by the sheer power of love...maybe some prothean magic too.

Like you receive an email for him stating his concern for Kolyat getting into trouble again, he's been coming home more and more late each night. He asks you to investigate, you oblige.

First stage is following his son through the Citadel stealth style, exactly like Thane Loyalty mission in ME2. But it's much shorter and ends once you see Kolyat board an unmarked spaceship.

You follow him, ofc, try to confront him. He's surprised by your presence but then expresses relief rather than acting what you'd expect from someone caught red-handed.

He explains he read in an asari research paper about a prothean technology that could possibly help repair damaged organs, or at least prevent them from degrading even further. But the research has been abandoned since the war and developing biotics took priority.

Kolyat informs you that he's been investigating and managed to get a copy of the whole unedited first draft of the published paper. Some scrapped information in it were apparently the theorised location of the prothean artifact.

He's going there to retrieve it, with or without your help...but he'd be very thankful if you came. He doesn't know how to uh...hold a gun you see, some skills don't pass down in genetics.

You can agree - Thane lives, Kolyat lives

Both of you go there and you can pick only one other teamate. Kolyat is a bit of liability, but bringing him along opens shortcuts and grants you so much lore about him, his late mother, and Thane's past self. It is Kolyat's loyalty mission in a way. You gain the hanar Marine biology branch as a war assest afterwards. You Gain Thane as a new recruit.

-

You agree, but demand he doesn't come along - Thane lives, Kolyat dies.

He went behind your back and boarded a different shuttle, without the Normandy abilities...the ship barely makes it into the atmosphere before the prothean technology defences shoots it down.

Thane is very visibly depressed and apathetic for the rest of the game. You gain Thane as new recruit.

-

You refuse and demand he hands you the papers - Thane dies early, Kolyat lives

Plays out the same in canon. You gain Prothean research papers as a war asset.

-

You refuse - Thane dies early, Kolyat dies

Same as canon but no funeral this time since Kolyat isn't alive to make preparations. You don't gain anything.

-

I imagine the mission to be your run of the million clearing out a base, etc. Maybe throwing in some stray collectors who were hiding their for old times sake? Bringing Javik and Lara gives unique dialogue, but you can't bring both unless you sacrifice Kolyat.

Bringing Javik informs you early that this technology isn't a miracle maker and doesn't magically fix organs. It simply delays the inevitable a little bit. It grants the sick a short extension on their lifespan, the pain mostly disappears, their health is restored...but it's a mirage. Nothing in reality changes much, placebo is hell of a thing.

However, despite you telling Thane about the placebo, it still takes effect. He makes the most of his time, realising he doesn't want to spend the last of his moments in a hospital bed.

But if you don't bring Javik, then you never discover that fact, which makes the eventual death scene when both of you realise his health is still deteriorating, much more painful.

-

Ik you're joking about the munching thing, but if you want to save a copy for yourself or just to keep in your files and reread, then I'm more than okay with that. In fact, I crossposted the fic to AO3, which natively lets you download it in any format.

[bloodinthegutter]

Little review of Deep Cut, but it's mostly me being your hyper fixated friend

First of all, hi. I don't think I've really talked about my thoughts on any particular comic run or mini series cause I started this blog specifically as a Marauder fan blog and, unsurprisingly, they're not really in the comics that often. I've thought about talking about past storylines or highlighting certain moments from comics, even if it's just one issue out of a hundred. I might do that going forward while I wait for the next thing to come along for me to relentlessly post about.

By the way, I'm not a critic. I'm very casual going into pretty much everything, and I'm way more positive than I am negative. Please don't listen to me. Please.

Okay, so how did I like Deep Cut, since it did kinda feature the Marauders? I dunno, it was fine. Nothing grand, just a little Logan side quest. Fun for anyone who's looking for a quick Wolverine story, and probably fun for anyone who's nostalgic for the Claremont era (although, I am one of those people, and I'm still sitting here not really sure what to say about it. This is hard).

I got the feeling throughout the first issue that yes, Claremont has a story to tell, he wants to fill in the gaps from forty years ago, which is great, I like that. Claremont definitely knows how to write Logan in a way where someone could read his dialogue or thought bubbles or the text boxes of him narrating to me and I’d go, “Oh yeah, that’s definitely Logan talking.” Same with Sabretooth. I’m not even that big of a Sabretooth fan, but I’ve always loved his dynamic with Logan, how he literally just loves fucking with him. It’s, like, the one part of their dynamic that usually gets lost when they adapt X-Men into movies or shows. 

I saw some people on various sites talking about how they didn’t like the art very much, and yeah, there were some…interesting design choices in certain areas…

...but I didn’t think it was horrible. 

I think this whole part was the highlight of my experience with reading this series:

She seems so excited. I love that for her. And I loved seeing the Marauders use teamwork. Greycrow definitely said it best when he said "Marauders win when we fight as a team." Brought me back to reading the Mutant Massacre as a kid and being like, "Oh no, these poor Morlocks...these Marauders are pretty cool, though." Fuck's wrong with me? Haha...

So, funny enough, I think where the series started to waver a little bit for me, personally, was after Logan realized that Sabretooth was a clone. Because whereas issue #1 with the whole fight between Logan and Sabretooth felt like it could be just a one-issue thing, a little gift from Claremont to us, the other three issues felt a little like he didn’t entirely know what to do with the rest of the story. To me, it kind of felt…over? After the first issue? If that makes sense? There were three issues to go, and I had been looking forward to seeing the Marauders, but I was still like, “Really? There’s more?”

I mean, of course there’s more, but something else that was kinda crazy to me was how underwhelmed I felt following the Sinister battle. I don’t know why, because after a fight with Sabretooth, two Marauder fights and an extra one where he, for some reason, didn’t kill any of them, Logan going up against Sinister should have been the moment where I clapped my hands and said, “Here we go, boys! The moment we’ve all been waiting for!” But I wasn't. I was just like, "Oh. Okay. That's cool."

Granted, I did like seeing Wolverine and Sabretooth team up, albeit briefly. That was cute.

But I think it being the last issue of a mini series kinda made me expect it to be a little rushed, so even though I typically go into things without any high or low expectations, I still felt a little underwhelmed. As much as I love the Marauders, I’m genuinely a little surprised that we got two full issues with them and not more Sinister. I’m not exactly complaining, but I can tell this might disappoint some other people.

Not that I care what other people think. Here's some pictures of my favorite character doing some poses:

I randomly just remembered that I met Chris Claremont at a comic con when I was 15 and he seemed genuinely surprised when I told him that I liked the Marauders. I really hope this mini series doesn't exist because of me. I'm haunted by memories of my still-existing cringe.

Anyway, like I said before, I'm not a critic. There's a bunch of Wolverine-centric podcasts that do deep dives into Wolverine comics waaaayyyy better than I can, and probably a million other users on Tumblr who have expressed their thoughts on this series in better detail than I did. I didn't hate Deep Cut, and I am just glad I could see my favorite villain group together again in a mini series this year, but it was still a pretty underwhelming read. I still have so many questions, too, that just seem like retcons now, like are the original Marauders still alive out there? Can Sinister not make clones of them without the originals? Is Hellions Greycrow a clone? Or is he the real Greycrow? And maybe the zombie Marauders were the real ones? But then where's Vertigo...?

None of that matters. I'm literally laughing at myself right now, I'm obsessed.

Closing thought: what the ever loving fuck are Scrambler's powers?

[tokiro07]

All this talk about Reborn's got me thinkin' about the Unione Famiglia

[Note: I had to take a few liberties with how Dying Will Flames actually work, but I'm pretty proud of what I came up with]

Sky

Juiz - as the first head of the Unione Famiglia, naturally Juiz uses the Sky Flame. Box Weapon: Fierbois Saber - using the Sky Flame's Harmonization characteristic, Juiz converts enemy Flames into Sky Flames, allowing her to disarm opponents and turn their Box Weapons against them. Box Animal: Lion (Julia) - same as above, Julia's roar turns Box Animals against their owners

Billy - originally masquerading as a Storm Flame-user, Billy revealed his true identity as the leader of Sotto, a rogue faction of the Unione Famiglia. While a part of Unione, Billy reverse-engineered the Box Weapons of as many key members as he could, replicating their abilities with his Sky Flame. Weapon: Revolvers - Billy fires concentrated Sky Flames which he can combine with other Flame attributes for various effects. Animal: German Shepherd (Veronica) - acts as a seeing-eye dog and helps direct Billy's aim

Earth

Fuuko - though initially believing herself to be a jinx, Fuuko learns that she had been unconsciously using the Gravitation characteristic of her Earth Flames to draw foreign objects to people she made contact with, often leading to accidents. With deliberate control, Fuuko has gained the ability to increase the attraction between any two specific targets and can even summon meteorites. Weapon: Handgun - Fuuko can fire Earth Flame bullets that carry a gravitational pull and hone in on a target or give a target pull as if she touched them. Animal: Tanuki (Andou) - can touch opponents in Fuuko's stead to transfer the gravity effect

Storm

Nico - having conducted extensive research into Dying Will Flames, Nico is adept at using all attributes other than Sky, Earth and Night for a variety of combat situations, though he primarily uses Storm and Lightning for their offensive and defensive capabilities. Weapon: Psycho-Pods - each Pod corresponds to a different attribute, with different combinations producing a wide range of abilities. Animal: Lab Rats x 12 (Tesla, Einstein, Edison, Curie, Darwin, Newton, Hawking, Bohr, Sagan, Kepler, Rutherford, Nobel) - each rat has been trained to mimic the abilities of other Union members, allowing Nico to recreate their fighting styles, albeit in a simplified manner

Mui - Weapons: Gloves/Broadswords- by channeling Storm Flames through her weapons, Mui's attacks Disintegrate whatever they strike. Basho Fan - when swung, the Basho Fan produces gusts of wind that carry Storm Flames to extinguish enemy Flames. Animal: Panda (Didi) - mimics Mui's fighting style and also strikes with Storm Flames

Swamp

Rip - Weapons: Scalpels - using the Swamp Flame's Fermentation, anything cut by Rip's scalpels begins to rot; biological targets have their ability to heal impeded by this process. Prosthetic legs - when kicking, Rip can launch concentrated, blade-like bursts of Swamp Flame; he can also use their Fermentation to manipulate gases in the air, producing jets that allow for flight. Animal: Horse (Iseult) - mostly used for transport rather than combat, Iseult can also fly using Fermentation

Lucy - unconsciously, Lucy's Swamp Flames excite her microbiome, causing her to be consistently sick; with proper control of her Flames, Lucy would likely be able to create a sort of "Swamp Flame Sickness" that she could weaponize to make enemies ill, though she likely wouldn't even if given the opportunity. Weapon: Pan tunic - similar to Rip, Lucy channels Swamp Flames through her Peter Pan costume in order to fly. Animal: Butterfly (Tinker Bell) - by sprinkling it scales on a target, Tinker Bell can share Lucy's Swamp Flames and grant limited flight abilities to others

Sun

Andy - formerly known as Victor, Andy was created when Juiz forced a card charged with Sky Flames into his skull, erasing his memories by neutralizing them via Harmonization. Unusually, Andy is able to enter Dying Will Mode voluntarily, channeling his Sun Flames through his body. Using his Flames' Activation characteristic, Andy's body is able to rapidly recover from any wound, and even propel lost body parts as projectiles. Andy is also quite adept at using Lightning Flames, which he uses to Soldify his spilled blood. Weapon: Kurikara - using Lightning Flames, Andy makes his katana near-indestructible; with his Sun Flames, Andy can swing Kurikara at incredible speeds. Animals: Wolf (Victor) - upon taking damage, Victor can use Sun Flames to create temporary clones from lost body parts, effectively creating an entire wolf pack very quickly. Andy is unaware why he thought to name his wolf Victor, the name seemed to just pop into his head. Silkworm (Clothy) - as Andy's clothes get damaged easily due to his fighting style, he uses Activation to spur Clothy's silk creation, perfectly tailoring clothes for himself within seconds. He does attempt to make the clothes more durable with Lightning Flames, though this often simply doesn't prove effective

Top - Weapons: Shoes - when charged with Sun Flames, Top is able to move at incredible speeds while also easing the fatigue that would normally come from moving so fast. Runner's Regalia - by wearing armor charged with Haruka's Lightning Flame, Top is able to move even faster by ignoring the damage that he would normally incur due to wind resistance while also gaining greater offensive output. Animals: Roadrunners (Miguel and Pedro) - a pair of birds that help guide Top as his dynamic vision becomes impaired while moving at highspeed

Forest

Ichico - inexplicably, Ichico suffers from a form of insomnia that makes it impossible for her to sleep. Using the Forest Flame's Realization, Ichico creates flowers that help to ease the negative effects of this insomnia. Animal: Octopus (Oxford) - riding on Ichico's head, Oxford grows vines to create additional limbs to perform tasks for Ichico

Bunny - Bunny manifests large flower bulbs to completely envelope her targets and render them immobile. Animal: Rabbit (Pikilienta Pohles) - "Pipipenda Pohpepu" as Bunny calls it plants seeds in the ground to help set traps for targets, ensnaring enemies when they get close enough

Lightning

Haruka - as a smith, Haruka's greatest ability is for improvising creations on the fly, greatly aided by her Lightning Flame's ability to draw in and bind materials with its electromagnetic properties. Weapons: Isshin Armor - using the Lightning Flame's Solidification characteristic, Haruka's armor becomes near-indestructible. She can also use magnetism to rearrange the armor's arrangement as necessary for different scenarios. Naginata - though unskilled in its use, Haruka can harden and electrify her naginata to make it an effective weapon regardless. Animal: Tortoise (Tesshu) - with its hardened shell, Tesshu serves as an anvil for Haruka to forge weapons and armor upon for her teammates.

Kururu - Weapon: Microphone - using the electrical properties of her Lightning Flames, Kururu creates a magnetic field that pulls others towards her. Animal: Ostrich (Kogomi) - Kogomi dances alongside Kururu to generate a greater magnetic field that both reaches further and is harder to resist

Mountain

Phil - Weapon: Entruster - rather than a traditional Box Weapon, Phil's entire robotic body is capable of channeling his Flames. By using the Mountain Flame's Synchronization, Phil can assimilate minerals such as stone or metal to alter the shape and capabilities of his body. Phil can also fire concentrated blasts of Mountain Flame to devastating effect. Animal: Worm (Ayatori) - Ayatori gathers rocks onto its body, making itself larger to wrap around enemies and constrict them. Outside of battle, Ayatori is quite small but long, and Phil often plays Cat's Cradle with the flexible worm

Void - Weapon: Boxing gloves - by controlling the earth around him, Void can shift the ground to grab onto his opponent's feet, making it difficult to evade his attacks; he can also gather stone into a large gauntlet or full armor, greatly increasing his striking power. Animal: Rottweiler (Bison) - while Void fights, Bison helps gather material for powering up Void's gloves more quickly

Rain

Yusai - Weapon: Katana - by launching Rain Flame slashes at her opponent's Ring Boxes, Yusai uses their Pacification characteristic to prevent them from channeling Flames and activating their effects. She can also target her opponent's body to render them numb, also preventing them from taking action. Animal: Crane (Gekkou) - by flying above the enemy, Gekkou secretly rains Rain Flame down onto the arena, preemptively disabling their ability to use Box Weapons

Enjin - Weapon: Gakuran - channeling his Rain Flames through his outfit, all of Enjin's attacks carry the ability to extinguish enemy Flames. Animal: Boar (Banka) - coated in Rain Flames, Banka charges into the enemy, forcibly extinguishing their Flames

River

Gina - Weapon: Beret- coating her hat in River Flames, Gina focuses the Flame's ability to control fluids such as water and air to create transparent constructs such as blades, though with practice she finds she can make constructs without a focal point. Animal: Jellyfish (Shinohara) -using River Flames, Shinora is able to become transparent and form barriers and limb-like constructs to aid Gina in battle

Tella - Weapon: Speakers - by manipulating the fluidity of soundwaves, Tella can create powerful defensive barriers in the air. Animal: Parrot (Morse) - as Tella is mute, Tella can transmit soundwaves to speak through Morse

Mist

Akira - Weapon: G-pen - by channeling Mist Flames through his pen, Akira can Construct real illusions with his drawings. Animal: Squid (Anno Un) - by spreading Mist Flame-empowered ink, Anno can render itself and Akira undetectable

Creed - Weapon: Gatling gun - rather than casting illusions, Creed Constructs ammunition for his gun, giving him effectively unlimited ammo. Animal: Bombardier beetles x50 (Units 1-50) - when thrown, Creed's Units Construct and launch fragments, incendiaries, gases, or flashes of light, allowing them to serve as reusable grenades

Desert

Sean - though a weak illusionist, Sean is adept at using his Desert Flame's Hallucination ability to render himself invisible. However, to keep the "sand" from getting in his eyes, he often finds himself closing his eyes when using this ability. Weapon: Butterfly knife - Sean is able to turn his knife invisible, but generally he uses it when he is already invisible himself, so there's no particular advantage to this. Animal: Chameleon (Irmao) - also able to turn invisible, Irmao is not blinded by the use of the Desert Flame, and serves as a guide for Sean while his eyes are closed

Latla - Weapons: Crystal ball - instead of creating illusions per se, Latla uses her Desert Flames to conjure images of the future in her crystal ball as a form of fortune-telling. Broomstick - powered by her Flames, Latla's broomstick serves as effective aerial transportation. Animal: Ladybug (Leila) - able to sense oncoming Flames, Leila warns Latla of oncoming attacks and generates a field of Desert Flames to distort her image, making attacks miss Latla

Cloud

Shen - using the Cloud Flame's Propagation characteristic, Shen can attach his Flames to an opponent's body or Box Weapons and assimilate a part of their Flames. This gives him moderate control of the affected area, allowing him to force the opponent to move in ways that they don't expect, particularly when they're distracted while initiating an attack. Weapon: Nyoi-Kinko - using the Cloud Flame's Propagation, Shen's staff can extend or expand at will. Animal: Monkey (Wukong) - able to concentrate Cloud Flames into a literal cloud, Kinto'un, Wukong provides Shen with aerial transportation

Feng - using his Cloud Flame's Propagation, Feng has developed a technique to feed on the Flames of defeated opponents, resulting in seemingly perpetual youth. Weapon: Zuishin Tekkan - by charging the rod with Cloud Flames, Feng changes the rod's shape between a staff, a tri-sectioned staff, and nunchaku, each with variable length depending on the amount of Flame used. Animal: Macaque (Liu'er) - just like Shen's Wukong, Liu'er concentrates Cloud Flames into a mount for Feng, known as Kokuto'un

Glacier

Tatiana - Animal: Hedgehog (Klubnika) - using the Glacier Flame's Freezing ability, Klubnika expands its body to encase Tatiana in a sphere of ice that she can manipulate at will. Tatiana can expand its radius, reshape it into a cylinder for a more focused strike, scatter fragments in all directions, and even create limbs for greater precision. This ice is so versatile that Tatiana does not require any other weapons

Chikara - Weapon: Camera - by focusing on a target through his camera, Chikara can designate where to conjure his Glacier Flames to freeze a target in place. Animal: Deer (Ryo) - as Chikara has to focus on a relatively small area to use his weapon, movement is difficult, so he relies on Ryo to maneuver him to the most advantageous position in battle

Night

Ruin - though unknown what his original Flame attribute was, having his Flame drained from his body nearly killed him; however, his Dying Will resurrected him with the Night Flame. As a resurrected corpse, Ruin is effectively immortal, able to use his Night Flames to turn his body incorporeal when taking damage. Animals: Cat (Shadow) - using the Night Flame's Transportation characteristic, Shadow allows Ruin to effectively teleport. Bat (Blood) - on Ruin's command, Blood creates constructs out of Night Flames that can easily bypass enemy defenses

[sixosix]

sdajkldfhsj my oh no was so justified Rosalie no

there are so many things i want to point out but AHHHHGGG tumblr ask box controls my ramblings. before I start though, I knew it wasn't gonna be true but RIP my house of hearth!Rosalie crack theory. you will be loved but missed.

WE GOT ROSALIE POV!! we love to see it, its so fun to see her perspective, and I love how her first reaction to hearing that T!Reader used to be a fatuus isn't betrayal but sadness. Sadness that she seemed to not be trustworthy enough to be told! And not even in a 'woe is me' kind of way! but like in an 'I wish I had done better so that you could have trusted me'. i'm just key smashing here like "jaldsfah IT WAS OUT OF PROTECTION ROSALIE" but I'm so glad she loves T!Reader with all her heart like that.

Not to mention the flashbacks to when T!Reader first meets Rosalie! AAAAA Rosalie is just so sweet and caring with this anxious child!solider jsdlkahfahjdf. we love maman in this house.

Switching away from Rosalie for a moment, Lyney and Lynette's meeting with Arlecchino- just how upset the twins are with the Knaves decision but are unable to fight back against father! I'm staring at Lyney with that obvious frustration because he so desperately wants to have T!Reader be a part of his life now that he found her again (and to be a part of hers) but not only does he have to play the role of the good 'son' but he also has the extra scrutiny from 'Father' because of his role of successor. His loyalty to the house and his family is deep but now that's conflicting with his love and loyalty to T!Reader. I doubt he and Lynette know about the current hostage situation-

(considering he seems to be talking with Arlecchino from the perspective of 'T!Reader is working under Childe' while she is working from the perspective of 'T!Reader isn't fatui at all'. I see that very specific language used in that entire conversation! 'Left The House' instead of 'Left the Fatui' ? I SEE IT)

-but I wonder how long it's going to take before the twins are involved, if at all. Arlecchino definitely seems to have many plans in mind if she investigated Rosalie beforehand (i remember how back in chapter seven when there was the hooded figure, I think I remember a lot of us pointing and being like 'FATHER'!?!? don't quote me on that please-) and is telling the twins to stay away from T!Reader while kidnapping Rosalie for a 'polite chat'. Potentially about shared custody? jsdklakf probably not but there must be some reason why Arlecchino wants to talk instead of just getting rid of her. As jokey as the shared custody comment is, I can see it as an option if she wants to continue having T!Reader as a potential piece to be used in her manipulations. Maybe not as a typical House of Hearth soldier considering how she told her own successor to stay away from her, but I can see her forcing T!Reader to act as an informant of sorts. Or maybe she wants to 'convince' Rosalie to give T!Reader back over to her care so she can wrap up that loose thread via… other means. I mean, she could do that second idea by force but I doubt she wants to put in the effort over covering up a murder or two so the fauti's reputation isn't marked by it when she could have two perfectly good pawns to take advantage of.

There's also Aether and Reader interaction! Granted we haven't been blessed with his POV but I like to think he's connecting a lot more to this situation. Makes me wonder if he feels any sort of guilt or regret at all, inadvertently causing a separation like his own with Lumine via T!Reader and Rosalie, a separation between a very close family (or almost family but shhh). Seeing his first reaction to his sister being taken in T!Reader's frantic, guilty and lost actions. After all, if he hadn't blackmailed her, she wouldn't have been found by Lyney and Lynette. In turn, that would have probably meant that Arlecchino would have left her alone in the flower shop for longer. And Rosalie wouldn't be dragged into this mess because the runaway fatuus wouldn't have been distracting the future 'father'-

(my current theory as to why she left T!Reader alone for so long! She always knew where she was, but didn't interfere because what use would be a disobedient child? T!Reader could have been a risk if brought back, she could have potentially held resentment towards Father and 'her successor', and could have lashed out far more than just some frostbite on the arm. After all, betrayal will not be permitted in the house of the hearth. Sure, she could have brought her back and 'gaslight gatekeep girlboss' T!Reader into being the loyal child again, but why waste the effort when the problem took themselves out of the picture already? T!Reader already functioned under fear and 'father's wrath' and wouldn't do anything to get in the way. However, now she's interacting with Lyney again. If it was one of her other children, it may not have been a big deal, but; as recently shown in akagi's ( <3 ) art; Lyney was the child with such a strong attachment to T!Reader that he FACEPLANTED because she addressed him by his name. She may of become Freminet, Lyney, and Lynette's secret since the house pretended she didn't exist, but even if Arlecchino didn't mention her anymore she never forgot how badly Lyney crushed on T!Reader. Although the runaway is still influenced by fear of what 'Father' could do, her fear of Rosalie finding out is currently overpowering that original fear now that she has gained a sense of security from being left alone for so long. She may not be stopping their plans but since Lyney has still pined after her for all these years, she's still a distraction. So now Arlecchino has to interfere to get the 'loyal child' back on track.)

-from the work to stop the prophecy that's still very much going on. Granted, this is thinking in a whole case of 'what-ifs', as it's fully possible that the Knave would have still interfered with Rosalie and T!Reader's life at some point if it somehow became useful in any sort of way. Its just… very interesting to think about, specially since the two have a sort of sort of not friendship going on. (Also, Rosalie??? Asking if T!Reader has a crush on Aether??? sjlafaksjf…. I don't know what to focus on more about that. The fact she brought him up as a potential love interest in the first place; which is understandable, considering her perspective but still; or the fact that when told no, she was kinda like 'you're too good for him anyway'. I mean- 'he doesn't seem like the type to settle' as in settling down for romance? jhflajkdh)

To finally wrap this mess up, FATHER FLIRTING WITH MAMAN??? (the fact that Arlecchino's appearance to Rosalie involves the former presenting a flower is just..lahsfjh jokes aside, it's a very nice contrast to Lyney previously presenting the marcotte to T!Reader. 10/10 father pls don't kill or hurt maman.)

-deadman aether anon

HI DEADMAN AETHER ANON im so glad u didnt apologize in this ask about the length cus i was pacing around my room like a blushing schoolgirl reading this.fjshfj

YEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH once the series end i rlly cant wait to talk about rosalie and my thoughts about everyone's theories of her role in the story. (little rant pls forgive me) its funny because i know that other media gave people trauma about who to trust, but i honestly wanted to mirror what the readers would feel about rosalie in how i worded the story when it came to interactions w her! i deliberately made her actions and thoughts sweet and kind to see if people would be suspicious, even when i didnt give them reason to be wary (aside from, you know, being very nice). the readers knew MC's situation and was cautious of anyone being overly nice, so i wondered what their reaction would be to someone like rosalie. THAWED!MC represented the few readers who decided to trust someone like that for once, and to me thats just very interesting (most of u guys immediately thought she was a traitor LMAOO). imagine thawed!mc who had the same mindset as most of the readers! she wouldve left the shop the next day.

YEAH its crazy to see most ppl immediately thinking of the knave. i wanted to touch in the scenes we saw of arlecchino and how she went to kinda watch furina (bc she was also wearing a hood there!). i got nervous when ppl thought of other characters too i thought it was like laughably obvious HEFUSHF

HAHA i like how u rlly note each detail i respect that. im almost afraid that you know the story better than i do LMFAOGJFHJ. i also love how u also looked into aether's side!!! right now all u can see is that he is definitely worried he lost the idgaf war he's just as frantic as MC.

your theory is so HEHEHHE delicous. i wish i can just outright agree or disagree but thats gonna take away the fun ughhh. but what i COULD comment on is how ure definitely right that the knave knew about lyneys silly crush on MC, and i think its hilarious. 'oh dear. poor child. of all the children, he really fell for the most romantically-challenged one' - arlecchino, probably.

the aether question was so painfully self indulgent. if i was mc i wouldve gone YES I DO WANT AETHER and thawed wouldve ended on chapter eight.

but yes hehe rosalie has high standards to whoever wants mc's heart. aether is a nice guy in rosalie's eyes, but not a nice enough boyfriend for her baby. !! lets see how she reacts to mr lyney

as always, tysm for this!!!!! wonderful convo

[pokeglitchden]

So I guess I should explain a little bit about what went down last night.

So... we broke into Team Enigma's lab, and have successfully retrieved the coin case, as well as the strange Artificial Legendary pokemon he was hiding in his PC box.

We have termed this Pokemon, FF. On inspection, the pokemon seems to be happy to exist entirely as data, consuming data for energy. This is a bit of a relief, since the pokemon itself appears to be massive, even by Glitch Pokemon standards.

As for what happened.

We confronted Grant in the basement of the Silph Glitch Labs and got to see first hand what horrors he'd been crafting in his spare time. It seemed that he had cloned himself a veritable army of hybrid pokemon that he'd specifically engineered to be able to do as much damage as possible to anything they fought. Often without any regard to their own safety or quality of life.

We had help from @made-this-blog-to-poke-my-rival, @roseberryboo , @exranger-kenton , @orionadventure , and @cooper-deluth and honestly, I do not think we could have pulled this off without every single one of them. Triss, our surge protector from Glitch City and Orion's assistant, May also provided an assist.

It seems now that Grant is dead. �aver managed to steal the Coin Case from him, though he suffered a pretty serious wound at the hands of a Sableye's pursuit in trying to escape. And Orion was speared badly by the FF while trying to provide a distraction.

Rose and Triss in the mean time managed to secure the FF from an upstairs computer terminal. Though it seems that when it was removed it caused a script Grant was running to malfunction.

The pokemon it created was...

Well...

Whatever that thing was, I don't think it could have survived. It contained the combined data of everything that was in Grant's PC. Copies upon copies of his "perfect pokemon."

The last thing I saw was it dragging him into the void of its body.

I believe that Grant is dead. A relief, if not a grim one.

It seems to me that this is over. At least, that is what I am hoping. And I am hoping that today my allies here today can rest easy. At the very least, now Glitch City should be safe.

-Simon

[trozeikylis]

I finished Dawntrail yesterday. (FFXIV 7.0 spoilers, ofc)

It’s weirding me out that I’m simultaneously elated and disappointed in the MSQ. It could’ve been so much more and yet, we’re not given much reason to like these characters as they grow. More on this later.

Wuk Lamat interested me back in 6.5x. Seeing her at fanfest made me excited and seeing her in Endwalker made me wonder with glee what Tural could possibly be. And yet she screams nothing short of girlfailure and delusional optimistism, two traits that don’t mesh well with being a fitting ruler.

Speaking of the Rite of Succession, our cast of warmonger, warmonger, slightly TOO optimistic tech nerd, and girlfailure didn’t do it for me. Granted, they’re gross oversimplifications of what they (mostly) are, but it’s still enough to call to mind who each of them are. Also: feels a tad bit off to make both the zealots for war the same race, if you ask me. It’s also a shame since Zarool Ja is one of the cooler designs I’ve seen XIV do and I wanted him to be more.

The cultures we learned about were cool (especially in the last 2 sections), but I feel like we didn’t need such detail in the MSQ. Shadowbringers had to do something similar, but we didn’t have to worry about a time crunch nearly as badly since a lot of details about how each society worked were either brief (read: didn’t require the Echo) or were engaging, like in Mord Souq. Instead, we get hours upon hours of exposition and reveling in the glory of Ms. Third Promise. Don’t get me wrong, I was interested in learning and read every line. I just wish they didn’t put ALL of the info in a straight line. I found myself practically screaming to want to fight. Perhaps it’s the sense of urgency that’s taken away since the rites didn’t necessarily have time constraints, but the fact that everything happened to line up perfectly with making friends (or trying to) out of everyone agitated me since it’s not realistic.

I’d imagine if someone tried to kill you in this world, you’d not want to save them for the sake of your sanity and safety. And yet, Wuk Lamat does just that to the radical giant. It doesn’t make sense why it goes unpunished with debts and repayment despite the fact that yes, they’re still enemies in game.

And despite it all, I still loved this expansion.

Going past Shaoolani, breaching through Vanguard, did I find the last final emotion within Pandora’s box. Heritage Found is a purposefully bleak place. I wish it didn’t look so miserable to be there, but past the doors into Everkeep’s ninth level did I find solace in the reality of this chapter.

To be stored and kept forever, to be cherished for one more day, to be locked away in a prison of eternal bliss did the bleak, golden skies past the Cenote greet me.

Alexandria was wonderful. The regulators and the artificial lifestream as a form of currency was a very interesting though, especially after just watching a video about time’s toll on the human psyche (the Daryl Makes Games one, I highly recommend checking it out). The Unlost being so umbrally charged and the challenged introduced by it, yet solved with even more specific solutions shows how the hardships of humanity causes it to evolve, and yet, stripping it away also surrenders what makes you, you.

I think about the Gondola scene in Canal Town a lot since I watched it. I think it’ll be like the 87 scene from Endwalker for me. I think about G’raha’s 200 years of torment he had to endure while we were frolicking in the fields. The apocalypse he saw time and time again, and how Living Memory spat it all back in his face. Truly, a moment of melancholy arises when he gazes at you so while the soundtrack reminisces of a bygone time, a mall long since closed, a moment hanging by a thread of nostalgia.

And speaking of sad boys, I was chatting with a friend going through it at the same time, and we immediately thought of Amaurot. After all, the spiraling architecture of the Meso Terminal couldn’t help but remind me of Emet Selch’s feat all that time ago. And to think one unsundered soul did all that when an unsustainable amount of aether was required to maintain something similar.

It saddens me you cannot return to the golden skies once it is done, and yet, it’s heartening that the terminal’s shutdown forces you to move on with it. It’s a bleak future, but one we must hold onto and carry with us. After all, so long as we are remembered, we live on vicariously.

So, I think I will do the same. I am saddened by the plot, the narrative, the flat characters, and yet, the little moments will forever shine to me. Otis, Cachiua, Gulool Ja, Maya’s parents, Erene- I mean Erenville, and the cast of the backrooms will be in my heart as I move on from this experience.

Here’s to hoping that patch content allows those that fell short to shine properly like the others.

[thememoriesofaqueen]

Love Will Remember 5

[Chapter updated in January 2024] A/N: It's been a while since I last updated but I promise you, I haven't abandoned this story. I figured the start of 2024 deserves a fresh little something for all the Kalijah fans. We're still here, even all those years later. <3 I also want to thank you for your continuous support and feedback. It means a lot to me <3

English is not my first language    

→ I do not own anything of the TVD - Universe and I’m not affiliated or associated with the writers etc. This is only a headcanon/fanfiction.

Pairings: Kalijah (Katherine & Elijah), Klatherine (allies)

Rated: M

Read on: AO3 and / or FFnet

Word Count: 4k  // Masterlist (x)

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She had been thinking about the last night – or rather about the conversation with Elijah – for a long time. He could not remember her and yet her conversation had a quality that she had not felt for a long time.

Of course, it had only been superficial topics. After all, to him, they were strangers and he believed she was just a tourist. And yet he had been earnestly interested in her answers all the time. He was genuinely interested in talking to her, without hoping they would perhaps end up in bed. And one has to believe her when she says this thought isn't uncommon when it comes to men. Men in bars usually don't just gift a drink and start talking if they weren't hoping for something that usually contains a very specific 'something'.

Somehow she felt foolish that she liked this stupid conversation so much. She should not feel flattered that he had noticed her (and not another person in this bar). That he had bought her a drink, something she had never seen him do before. He played for his audience but rarely interacted with them the way he had done with her.

That didn’t mean Elijah was still somehow attracted to you, Katherine. Why should he, he doesn't even remember you!

And yet Katherine was confident enough to believe that her beauty was naturally striking. Why wouldn't it lure a man towards her? Even if they were speaking of Elijah who didn't just follow his basic instincts. But perhaps he does by now. She has no idea, after all, what kind of man he is without his memories.

As much as she resisted, she thoroughly liked that she had been noticed by Elijah. At the same time, however, the pain of their separation flared up again.

So many years had passed and yet the encounter with him triggered something in her. It made her remember what he had meant to her. How he had made her feel.

Memories that should belong in a box, hidden in some kind of cellar.

But she really shouldn’t be sentimental. This was a mission, after all. Speaking of…

There was no way around meeting Elijah again. Even if it was probably better to leave this conversation to be just this one single direct interaction with him, she would most likely not achieve success if she only played the mysterious stranger. Sure, perhaps that would increase Elijah's interest but one cannot be certain. And a pure possibility alone was not enough.

Not when she had Klaus breathing down her neck. Not when there's the possibility that he's watching her. The thought alone made her feel uneasy and caused her to immediately go through her apartment to check if there was anything unusual in there.

She turned each pillow over and even rummaged through her closet just to make sure he wasn’t hiding somewhere. Which, of course, is totally stupid, but her paranoia forced her to.

Under other circumstances, her curiosity about this changed Elijah would not be great enough to accept the danger of Klaus. Under other circumstances, she would run; no matter what Klaus promised her, you could not trust him.

But she knew, was actually pretty sure, that he had a close eye on her. He could even be trusted to monitor her and have some kind of tracker attached to her. After all, he had enough witches under his control who would certainly grant him this little favor. There's no way he would entrust her with something as important as returning his brother to their family without making sure she was supervised the entire time.

It made her want to barf.

Katherine quickly closed all the curtains of her otherwise sunny apartment (call it a useless sense of security) before she sat down and tried to think.

If Klaus wanted to see progress, she needed to be more quick and efficient. Otherwise, she risks getting a visit again which was something Katherine wanted to prevent.

Okay … let's think.

It was really not new to her to pick up and flirt with a man who could be useful to her, and it was usually no problem. But this man of all people was… difficult. They had history and although she didn't want to admit it he still … meant something to her.

Part of the reason why he decided to end their relationship was because he feared she was deceiving him. Which was complete bullshit because she didn't have any secret agenda. He knew what she had wanted, namely his position to work out a deal for her. She never made a secret of it when she decided to contact him.

He did her injustice by accusing her of wanting to take advantage of him and somehow, it had given her some kind of satisfaction to know that despite his beliefs and fears, he was wrong. That she hadn't done anything unrighteousness. That she wasn't as corrupted and ruined as everyone wants to think. That she was worth saving.

But if she does play him now, he would be right. He could obviously not remember but Katherine is sure that at one point, he will. And if that point is reached, he will remember everything. Including how she played him. He would be convinced that he made the right choice, that she couldn't be trusted.

And she couldn't have that.

So think, Katherine. What is something you could do to make progress but which won't let you look like a mendacious person once he remembers? What would make him want to interact with her but wouldn't be too much? What wouldn't be looking manipulative?

It was actually pretty sure that most of the actions had to come from him, because then you could not accuse her of anything.

Even if she could, of course, create an incentive, because there was something that she could certainly take in her hand. Something that would be appropriate and not quite so noticeable that it would seem suspicious.

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The next evening she went back to the bar. She didn’t dress up more than usual, and didn’t wear any extraordinary clothes – she is, after all, not going to a party or trying to seduce anyone. Which meant that her casual clothes had to do. She was just herself, which should be enough. And if she's honest, she still looks better than most visitors in this bar or even in this town.

She ordered two beers at the bar, and despite not being a beer drinker, it was a necessary evil that she had to accept. After all, one had to create a few similarities and she had seen him drinking that brand of beer. Perhaps the desired conversation would be more easy then.

Speaking of conversation: Katherine had tried her best to prepare herself. To settle into her role as a tourist who has never met him before this trip to Manosque. She had thought about practicing her performance in front of a mirror to make sure everything was going according to her plan. She was a 'bit' perfectionist and she didn’t want to have multiple efforts. It had to work perfectly the first time. However, she quickly figured out that this might not be the right approach. It would give her a false sense of security, at least until something unexpectedly happens. Then, chances would be high that it would throw her off track for a few seconds which could be enough for Elijah to note that something was going on.

She had therefore only roughly considered something and decided to improvise the rest which hopefully won't turn out as a mistake.

Until now, however, everything seemed to be going as it had been observed the previous evenings. While Elijah played, she kept herself in the background, trying to not raise his attention just now. Even after she had gotten the beers she had ordered, she waited for Elijah to take a break before she made her way to him. He was sorting through some papers when she showed up next to him, focused on staying calm and not forgetting her role – which was admittedly difficult because he looked forbiddenly dashing in the white Henley he wore.

"Hello."

He looked up in surprise, apparently not having noted her approaching and the hint of a smile played along his lips as he seemed to recognize her.

"Oh, hello." He put the pieces of paper back on the holder of the piano before he stood up from his piano stool to speak to her at the same eye level.

"I brought you something", she handed him the beer in her left hand which he took with one raised eyebrow, probably wondering what the reason for this was. "I wanted to return the favor for yesterday's drink and I hope you accept?" a genuine question because she still found it difficult to assess this new Elijah.

"Why thank you, but you really didn't have to return the favor. I liked doing it, I certainly didn't expect anything in return." He assured her and sounded sincere. It made her wonder what exactly made him want to buy her a drink and even initiate a conversation. She's sure she's not the only frequent visitor/listener in this bar.

"Well, I like to return the favor," she offered him a smile which certainly wasn't a forced smile. Even this conversation somehow felt … natural. "Cheers?" she lifted her bottle and thankfully, Elijah returned the gesture. Both took a sip from their respective bottle whereby Katherine tried to ignore the specific taste of beer which wasn't really to her taste.

That would already be done.

So that no embarrassing silence arose, Katherine resumed the conversation relatively quickly.

"You had to get back to work so fast yesterday," her hand caressed the piano to show what she meant, "That I didn't have any opportunity to even ask for the name of the very generous man who bought me a drink. I hoped to find out today so I could say properly thanks again."

This should be a good start and would also tell her what he called himself. Maybe he had given himself a different name than Elijah. Perhaps he now went by 'Theo' or 'Daniel' or something entirely different.

"You're right. I apologize for not introducing myself, but somehow I didn’t notice." Because interacting with her felt so familiar? Because he somehow knew that they already knew each other? Katherine assumed that she was not going to find out.

He moved his beer to his left hand before he extended his right hand to her. "My name is Elijah."

So it is Elijah after all. Somehow it was nice to see that he kept his name and didn't completely invent himself new.

Her eyes fell on his outstretched hand, which he had given her to greet her.

So far, she had studiously avoided touching him in any way; although touching was the key to creating familiarity, a short touch here, a short touch there. Decent, of course, but people tended to have more trust in a person when you touched them briefly on the shoulder, hand, or upper arm.

It is probably quite obvious why she had avoided this so far. She didn’t want this kind of familiarity, a healthy distance has never hurt and it is better for her.

Nonetheless, it would be viewed as impolite if she just ignored the hand that he had extended to her which is why she took it. His handshake was as she knew him; not lax, but he radiated the authority known from him. Which in this case was probably something he didn’t express consciously.

"Nice to meet you, Elijah." She bit down on her tongue to not add any additional comment such as 'a nice name' and then made sure to let go of his hand as quickly as possible without seeming suspicious.

"And with whom do I have the pleasure?" He, again, sounded genuinely inquisitive about it which suggested that he really didn’t seem to have a clue who she was.

Of course, she knew that this question would come, and it was the logical consequence after being asked his name. Katherine had also thought about it. What name should she give him? The French version of her name? Catherine Pierre? Her original name, the one he always liked to use? Katerina? The name she usually uses? Katherine?

She wanted to lie to him as little as possible, even if the French version of her name was not a lie, after all, there were people who called her that. However, she always kept in mind that one day he would remember everything. To name him another name was therefore not really an option because he would see it as a blatant lie and another reason why she wasn't trustworthy.

So only Katherine and Katerina remained.

Katerina was of course very obvious, it was the name he always chose for her. He met her as Katerina and somehow, that name stuck with him, no matter that she chose to go by a different name by now.

However, there were two good reasons why she would not introduce herself as Katerina.

On the one hand, she had concerns that this name might trigger something in him, maybe he would start to remember completely. He must have recognized something about her, otherwise, she could not explain why he had bought her of all guests a drink. Katherine, however, wasn't sure if it would be good for her if he started to remember. That should be a task his family has to handle, not her as it could come with risks. She had no idea how long Elijah was already in this memory-less state, she had no idea what he had done since then. She couldn't assess how he would react upon starting to remember who he truly was, what he was capable of, and what he might have done since he chose to get his memories erased; perhaps the true reason why he had picked such a drastic decision in the first place would bubble up again and one never knows what the true trigger for that choice had been and what that caused him to feel.

She didn't want to get in the danger zone.

On the other hand, she also didn't want to introduce herself as Katerina as some kind of self-protection. Hearing him say her name like this – although he probably won't remember to roll the 'R' as he used to do – could bring back even more memories and she wasn't sure if she could endure this.

It was surprisingly difficult enough to interact with him because all the interactions or conversations went through her mind hours later. He was a person who was hard to forget because he did hold a meaning to her even though he believed it to be different…

This is why she chose to introduce herself as the person she was, the person she identified herself as: Katherine.

"My name's Katherine." No last name because he also didn't introduce himself with his last name (if he could even remember it).

Not having to mention a surname was also convenient for her as it came with fewer risks. 'Katherine Pierce' might trigger something in him as well, a 'Katherine Pierce' also might be recognized by others because she had no idea what Elijah did when he wasn't in the pub playing the piano. Perhaps he had friends he talked to? If he tells them that he had met a 'Katherine' it wouldn't be as striking as if he tells them he met a 'Katherine Pierce'. Although Katherine didn’t think she was some kind of well-known celebrity, she was cautious about her identity.

"Katherine-" he repeated the name, his gaze still curious on her although she believed he tried to classify the name on his tongue. "-it's a beautiful name."

That comment made her involuntarily smile although she quickly tried to hide that response. Instead, she politely thanked him the way every person would react when receiving a compliment on their name.

"Okay, Elijah." It was strange saying that name out loud again, even more so to say it in front of that man himself. "Now that I know your name, I can again thank you again for the drink. It really surprised me. Positively."

Oh, if only he knew how much she was surprised by this deed.

"It really wasn't a circumstance. Aside from that, it should probably be me to thank you for returning the favor even though I truly had not intended for you to repay me in any kind." A statement that seemed to be important to him because he again let her know that he indeed didn't have any ulterior motives behind buying her that drink.

"Don't worry, I wanted to." Now, how to keep this conversation going? The actual agenda was over. You bought me a drink, I bought you a drink, we’re even now. Topic finished and everyone back to their respective spot.

Only with the difference that their conversation could not stay there. It needed to develop, to move further.

Sure, now would usually be the time to start flirting, which was typically a breeze. A few ambiguous sentences, a glance here, a 'random' touch there. Only with the difference that she did not want this.

It would be a lot easier if he wasn’t Elijah.

"I was wondering…" She chose her words wisely, wanting to push their conversation in the right direction. There was something else she wanted to say but decided against it before the words left her mouth. "how long you're already playing here? I suppose a solo man show is quite rare." Her words were accompanied by a slight smile that might elicit him some secrets.

It caused Elijah to chuckle shortly before he eyed the beer and then returned his gaze back to her, his index finger swiftly scratching over his cheek.

"It's probably no fascinating story. I wanted to visit this town and I came in here to buy a drink. While I was waiting for my drink, I discovered this piano in the corner. It was a bit dusty and covered but somehow I had this desire to play it. It wasn’t exactly polite, but I went over and folded up the key cover, sat down, and started playing. Please don’t think I’m crazy, but there was this connection somehow as if it was meant to be. And the owner of his pub, Baptiste, was impressed by my playing and asked me if I could imagine playing here regularly."

"And so you did," Katherine concluded, still fascinated by the turn of events. She cannot picture normal Elijah wanting to play a shabby piano in a pub and then even agreeing to play regularly in there. He would probably take such an offer as an insult, even if he wouldn't voice it out loud.

"I'm sure you have many fans," Katherine added as she kept her gaze on Elijah. She didn't know why she chose to say this. It was actually rather stupid. Concentrate, Katherine!

The corners of Elijah's lips lifted slightly and he almost looked slightly sheepishly.

"I think people like the music. Although I'm of course well aware people don't come here to hear me play."

Is he really sure about that? Because Katherine knew there was one person in this room that specifically only came here to hear him.

"Well, I can only speak from my perspective. I was surprised to discover life-piano music when I first came to visit. But it was a nice surprise."

The words left her lips fluidly, not giving a hint away that she truly was astounded by the entire arrangement.

She seemed to have flattered him somehow because he did smile again. Not in the polite, casual way; it was a smile that reached his eyes. An honest joy. An expression that she had rarely seen except for the moments they shared a moment.

Somehow she found it adorable.

Damn it.

Was that really necessary?

To mask this confused reaction, she took a sip of her beer and wondered why she a) reacted to him in that way and b) why she acted so awkwardly. She struggled, not being able to lead their conversation anywhere fruitful without having to flirt or without having some kind of non-neutral reaction.

Was it really possible to mess this up so badly?

Sure, she could ask him if he wanted to show her how to play piano but this was neither the right location nor was it the right approach. It would just remind her of certain things plus she was also sure it was no good idea to risk being (almost) alone with him. Although alone time would probably be the key to success, Katherine simply didn’t want to be alone with him.

Surely Klaus would understand.

…

Who does she fool? Of course, he wouldn't.

"Uhm, I don't want to take more of your time…", she started while thinking of a good way to end this conversation before it got awkward but also keeping a door open.

The next question he would certainly misunderstand at the beginning, but nevertheless, a part of her was quite interested to see how he reacted to it.

"I was planning on going out for dinner tonight…" As expected, Elijah seemed to be slightly puzzled about the start of this sentence as his words caused Elijah to tilt his head, apparently seeming like he considered something. It was interesting in a way that he didn't seem to be interested in the potential thought of spending time with her outside this pub. Which she definitely found strange. But perhaps that's only her interpretation because she didn't really want him to consider this some type of date. Before he could voice his objections, however, Katherine quickly raised her hand.

"Oh, no, not what you think. Don't worry." She quickly added that she definitely wasn't asking him out. At least not yet and hopefully never.

"I thought that you might know a good place? I would appreciate a tip."

Elijah was indeed able to make a recommendation, which she took as an occasion to finally say goodbye on the grounds that she was starting to feel hungry and thanks to him, now has the ideal restaurant.

It was hopefully an elegant safe before she found herself in an embarrassing situation although she did ponder if he would have actually declined her invitation if she truly had asked him out. What was the reason for it?

Did he subliminally have a grudge against her? Even if she could not comprehend that, because he has been quite friendly and open-minded towards her so far. Surely he wouldn't initiate a conversation by buying her a drink if he somehow didn't like her.

Or maybe it was something completely different: Maybe more was hiding behind the supposedly unsuspecting facade.

It definitely gave her something to think about as she put the still-half-full bottle of beer on the bar and then proceeded to leave the club.

In the background, the music began to play and as she walked outside, she noticed that he had not answered the one question about how long he had been there. Intentionally or accidentally?

Don't give it too much thought, Katherine. Don't let him drive you crazy.

Even before she had entirely left the club, she had already taken out the phone from her bag to go look for the address of the restaurant although she did not plan on visiting it this evening as she was looking for a different type of meal. Something more nutritious for a vampire. And hopefully also a way of distracting her mind.

While searching for the address on the internet (and its opening hours), Katherine subconsciously noticed a woman who was entering the pub. Katherine didn't really pay attention to that person, despite her instincts telling her that there was something different about this woman in comparison to the usual visitors of this place.

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A/N: Please consider leaving (positive) feedback as it keeps my muse for writing alive. ♥ Remember to stay kind.

[akasha-game]

I haven't worked on anything too interesting lately, so instead I'm going to ramble at random about some of the boring stuff. Apologies in advance.

The text box that showcases the various properties of an item is now more compact, and the icon for the item itself has been moved to prevent it from potentially overlapping the former. The property shown here hopefully gives more useful information than it used to by telling you how much a regular strike and a charged strike multiply your damage by. Normally, of course, it's 1x -> 2x (in which case this property won't show up in the rotation), but certain weapons have modifiers that change this. Flails, for example, are 0.5x -> 2x by default.

Note that certain character abilities may misrepresent the latter number. For example, each strike from Irene's Hurricane Spin does half the damage of a regular spin attack to compensate for it potentially striking multiple times.

While we're on that topic:

Irene's Hurricane Spin has been tweaked a bit. Each strike before the final one does slightly less knockback to keep enemies struck by it relatively close by, and it now grants her semi-invulnerability for its remaining duration if she strikes at least one enemy with it (with the sword itself, not anything fired from it). Furthermore, she's granted immunity to contact damage regardless (as seen here) to help prevent enemies with the ability to do so from popping in and interrupting it constantly, which could be a problem if she's using a sword that doesn't fire beams. These are characteristics shared with the spear's Super Thrust, primarily because some enemies (like these) are immune to knockback, and otherwise would cause you to smack into them during the thrust.

Some notes on invulnerability: there are, in general, three tiers of it:

Semi-invulnerability doesn't render you immune to certain attacks, such as charged attacks, particles (like those fired from an elemental sword) or channeled beams (like the lasers used by the robot in the previous update). Environmental damage and status effect damage are also unaffected. This is the type granted by mercy invulnerability and Sam and Kim's roll ability.

Various forms of ad hoc invulnerability are granted during specific cases, such as during Nendo's dash and Irene's Hurricane Spin (as mentioned above) to protect against things that would otherwise be irritating. Nendo, for example, is protected from everything that involves physical contact with an attack or enemy while dashing, but he's still vulnerable to damage from the environment, status effects, and certain Memesis effects and monster attacks.

True invulnerability is granted from a few status effects and protects you from all damage, except for the damage caused by falling into a hole or being crushed. Harmful status effects can still be applied, but they won't do damage as long as you're invulnerable.

Most forms of invulnerability won't apply while time is stopped for you, except for mercy and true invulnerability.

Speaking of being crushed:

Yeah, that can happen now. I don't expect it to be something that poses a true threat, like in the form of falling ceilings. It's more or less just a confidence check for now (if I'm using that term correctly).

If you're reading this, I admire your patience for the verbal equivalent of watching paint dry. Have a good one!

[unwraigddig]

It’s been a while since I initially posted. Today I’m angry about well, the system I guess. Mostly the complete and utter lack of support in my country, and ultimately the vicious circle of it.

I have not not had a job since I left school. For those who’s argument is you can’t blame our system etc when America etc doesn’t even have one and women have to pay tens of thousands just to have a bloody baby, never mind if they need treatment because of something that wasn’t even their fault.

But there are people in this country who have not worked a day in their lives, have not contributed to the funds in which the government give to them, much less contributed anything at all to society/the community (with the exception of the absolute clowns who end up doing community service, although I’m not sure a punishment can be accepted as a legitimate contribution).

So why, despite having contributed to this system for over 10 years, is it now failing me when I need it the most? I have so many mental health issues, most of which stem from PTSD. Need therapy for that, especially since CBT doesn’t work for me (too rational, my mind knows I’m okay but my body does not). Tried to get therapy with my company health insurance when I was actually employed (can’t really say working since I spent the last 6 months of my job on and off sick leave), even private, you can’t get a therapist (even online) in Great Britain, never mind Wales, for at least 3/4 months, depending on what you need specifically. So with that in mind, just imagine how absolutely ridiculous the wait is on the mental health system. The main system that my GP uses for therapy and CBT is a local charity known as Mind. You pay £10 a session, £25 if you’re employed, to be treated by a student counsellor… right so why do I pay for the NHS then? Because as a charity, yes they are very helpful with treatment etc in an already overloaded system, but they cannot provide the time that the GP’s and official bodies can to help people get the full help they need. It’s a vicious cycle.

I have anxiety due to being a victim of domestic abuse, and if you’re asking physical, mental etc, the answer is all of them. I had all of the abuses for 6 months of my life, and it left me completely and utterly broken. Although I’m not sure if I feel more broken because it happened, or because of the way my life changed after it happened. My abuser, by the way, is quite happily living his best life on full benefits, although he is working full time cash in hand. Bills paid, flat paid for, grants galore… hold on, wasn’t he the one who did something wrong though?

So, anxiety because of domestic abuse. Not a something I did to myself, or caused myself. I had harm inflicted on me by another person who I was supposed to be able to trust unconditionally. I now suffer with several different mental health issues due to this, and in turn suffer with very physical issues caused by this. PIP decides I can do all the things that they asked me if I could do. I never said I couldn’t do them to be fair, that’s not the issue, the issue is I need constant nagging, prompting among other things because I just won’t do them, or I’ll forget. Sometimes I’m too anxious to move let alone go to the kitchen and make myself food. God knows how many pizzas I’ve burnt to a crisp because I’ve forgotten about them in a state of unpredicted anxiety.

So, ended up having to quit my job due to this, because despite all the crap these big companies spout about mental health and caring and supporting you as an employee, its actually bullshit and a tick box exercise they are required to do by law. They very much will kick you out the door as fast as they can, because they don’t want to help, they don’t know enough to want to help either. Brutal.

So yeah, quit my job after 6 months due to the ongoing anxiety, and after having multiple people who were supposed to help me fail me. If I’d had got the help I needed when I needed it, I would not be in the situation I am in now, as I’d have probably got better 10 x faster and not got myself into masses of debt due to substitutive satisfactions.

Can’t get PIP, apparently even though they ask if you need prompting etc, it doesn’t really matter if you can physically do it. So whoopsie if I forget to eat for 3 days because my mind isn’t healthy enough to make me a meal, but my body is.

UC? Ah yes, but probably about to have the fight of my life over that because I’ve applied for full time education (Social Sciences, funny that. So I can help people like me, when they need it, and hopefully they won’t end up like me then.) to get into a job to help a system that failed me so it does not fail others so drastically, because even though UC themselves has declared me unfit for work… PIP hasn’t and neither has anyone else, so I can’t really be that ill. Or, perhaps it is because I am ill that I also cannot fight for things I’m entitled to, because even though the government says you can have them, they don’t want to give it to you. Easier to get a politician to cut off an arm I reckon, or get blood out of a stone, whichever tickles your fancy.

But yes, back to education because my life has been ruined by someone who undeservedly gets all the help under the sun. It’s the fact he has priors, had only come off probation like a month before I put in my case, had already literally JUST been through all the court mandated therapies… but he still gets let off with probation, community service, and yet again, the same court mandated therapies that have already clearly not worked.

Trying to get back into education because I essentially need to restart my life, because I feel everything in my old life he touched has been ruined with unpleasant memories. I’m not sitting here on my ass feeling sorry for myself, I have tried allllllll the self help techniques under the sun. Partially, I think I was too far gone before they were taught to me. So I’m also partially going into education to help myself, and then help others. Let me tell you now, there are not very many people in this world whom I’d wish what has happened to my life in the last 18 months upon. The only godsend is my current boyfriend (soulmate to be honest, that’s another story and I’m not bigging it up either. When you know you know, if you don’t and you’re unhappy, get rid.), and having moved in with my best friend into a 2 bed house. But, my worsening financial situation is causing issues there also, partially because my bestie had a really rough start into her adult life, had to drop out of uni to prioritise family, and is now in a position to educate herself into a career that she put on hold to help someone else. She also won’t get help, despite only working 3 days a week, and quite literally being turfed out on her ass at age 18ish because her mother passed away and she wasn’t entitled to any housing benefits, UC wasn’t a thing then, and she was working so couldn’t claim JSA. Literally turfed out on the street 2 weeks after her mum died because she was young and working, and the young and working don’t have problems like the middle aged and working. We absolutely do not pay the exact same costs as a 35yo living in the same situation as us, but that’s mostly because the 35yo would have all the help in the world, but the 21-35yo doesn’t need it according to the government. Instead we’re forced into poverty because of the politician’s ludicrous decision and ideals, (that absolutely has not been made due to their own life experiences let me tell you!), that we somehow, even as younger adults with potentially lesser life experience, let alone lesser time to get our shit together, are underserving of assistance, and only deserve half of which a 35yo would get in the same situation. A 35yo living in a house share would have the full rent paid, however a 21-35yo in a house share gets the local housing shared accommodation rate (which for me is 280, my half of the rent is 412.50). The only difference between the two situations is literally age. Why, because we are younger, are we any less deserving of help? I’ve contributed more to the government through working than half of the 35yo’s in my area. Most of them in my area on benefits at that age are generally alcoholics, druggies or people who made extremely poor decisions in their twenties… Vicious cycle at work again. Instead of helping those in their twenties who are asking for it, we instead punish them by telling them they’re undeserving, or only half deserving. We don’t give them the help they need, so they then become one of the 35yo’s I’ve described, making poor decisions in their twenties out of desperation.

The very system that is there to help us, is also the one that puts us in the position of needing help.

[aimless-imagines-for-fun]

Racing Heart

Pairing  ::  Clark Kent  x  short/petite fem!Reader

Warnings  ::  Smut, Size Kink

Word Count  ::  4,265

Summary  ::  You never knew why, but whenever you were around Clark, your heart always raced.

A/N  ::  Just an fyi, I used Henry Cavill’s Clark Kent, but I used the comic book height of Clark, which is 6′3′’, versus Henry’s 6′1′’

You never quite understood why, all you knew was that your heart always started racing when you were close to Clark. It wasn’t whenever you saw him, or when you were just in the same room as him. It was only when you were able to notice how small you were compared to the 6’3’’ man. 

There were many occasions when this happened. Whenever Clark hugged you, helped you grab something on a top shelf, or even when he was standing so close to you, you two almost touched, your heart began racing. It had gotten to the point where you went out of your way to avoid getting close to the man, making sure you were always on the opposite side of the room from him.

There were three specific times though that made your face heat up just thinking about them.

-

The first one was in the break room.

You had managed to open the cabinet doors right above the refrigerator, but were struggling to grab the box of plastic utensils. You always forgot to bring a fork or spoon from home for your lunch, though you never had to worry about it because The Daily Planet had some. Of course, in an office full of tired reporters, others were bound to forget their utensils as well, and thus the box that was placed on the counter was now empty.

You stood on your tippy-toes, fingers barely grazing the corner of the box. The heels your wore offered no help, only adding a mere inch and a half to your height. You open the cabinet with ease, and a huff of annoyance left you when you saw the box of forks was on the second shelf. You had grown so frustrated, you began hopping just to try and hit the box that you now believed was taunting you. However, your hopping was working, as you managed to hit the corner repeatedly to make the box slowly come out. You didn’t care if you were wearing a skirt. It ended right before your knees and you were wearing black tights so it was fine.

You just needed one more good hop and you knew you’d be able to grab the box. You bent your knees only slightly, and then-

“Do you need some help?” A deep kind voice asked, followed by a large hand reaching past you and grabbing the box.

You whipped your entire body around, now facing a tie and button-down plaid shirt. You tilted your head up, seeing the man from Kansas, Clark Kent. He was giving you one of his classic golden boy smiles, looking down at you.

You gave him a small smile in return, and you could feel your heartbeat begin to grow faster. Perhaps Clark sneaking up behind you startled you, and he seemed to notice.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, I just saw you were struggling for a bit,” He commented, holding the box out for you.

You grabbed it, thanking him quietly before a small idea popped into your head. “Were you watching me?”

You swore you saw a small tint on Clark’s cheeks as he let out a cough to clear his throat. “Um, no, I had walked by earlier and saw you struggling then, and, well, when I came back I saw you were still here so I decided to help.”

You let out a small giggle. “I’m teasing Clark.”

You saw him visibly ease up, letting out a small exhale. Little did you know he had been staring at you for a small while before he helped you. Watching you hop up and down had brought a small smile of amusement to his face. 

-

The second one was in the supply room.

Some people bought their supplies, and that was their stash. Others, such as yourself, helped themselves to the abundance of the supply room. What you had just ran out of only moments ago were sticky notes. You used them quite often, not only for notes but also for little drawings you did to pass the time. As a matter of fact, your entire desk was nearly covered with either small memos or doodles of random characters.

The sticky notes, unfortunately, were located on the top shelf. To add to your bad luck, there was also no stepping stool or ladder. Now, you could’ve been rational and go get someone taller to help. ‘Nah, I got this,’ you thought as you carefully began to climb up on the shelves. You believed in your climbing abilities, even in your heels. Admittedly, it was a bit awkward trying to grip onto the shelves, and the heels of your feet were hanging off, but you felt secure enough. 

You reached the top shelf with relative ease, only needing to step up two shelves. Then came the matter of the box of sticky notes that had yet to be open. There was no way you could open the box to grab the small number of notepads you needed, not without both hands though. You could throw the box down, but what were the chances of it breaking open and creating a mess? ‘I really should’ve thought this one through a little better,’ you regretted.

Busy thinking of how to get the sticky notes down(along with how often you found yourself in this sort of ‘you’ve made your bed now lay in it’ situations you’ve been in) you didn’t notice the door open and close once again. “(Y/N)?” 

“Wha- Ah!” You let out a squeal, losing your balance from being pulled from your train of thought. Your eyes widened and your heart froze, feeling your feet slip off along with your grip.

You squeezed your eyes shut, ready for the oncoming impact from the floor, along with the pain. Thankfully, the person who had caused your fall was quick enough to save you. Instead of feeling the hard tiled floor, you felt a pair of strong arms catch you. They held you close, almost squeezing you a bit too tight, but you felt safe in the embrace. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times to make sure you were indeed okay. You looked up to see who had caught you, your (e/c) eyes locking with blue ones behind a frame of glasses.

There was a clear worried look on Clark’s face. “You need to be careful (Y/N), you can’t just climb up shelves. If you need help, ask for it,” He continued to scold you, but you couldn’t focus on a thing he was saying.

Your heart was pounding, though you thought it was from the adrenaline of almost falling, and your mind was elsewhere. You couldn’t listen to him with him still holding you, it was all your mind was focused on. His grip on you was frim, and you were so close to him you could smell his cologne, citrus with a hint of musk. You always knew you were petite in build, but being held like this made you feel tiny. ‘His arms are so big. Am I really this small? He doesn’t look like he’s struggling at all. When does he have the time to work out? How-’

“(Y/N) are you even listening to a thing I’m saying?”

You blinked once, looking at him with big eyes. “Um… You’re still holding me…” You pointed out, a small blush coming to your cheeks. Unable to look at him any longer, your eyes darted down, missing his flustered face.

He put you down quickly, apologizing, and you told him not to just as quickly in response. After, you thanked him and rushed out without even taking a single sticky note with you. Later on in the day though, when you had walked away and returned to your desk, there were two sticky note pads on your desk.

-

The third one was at a charity event.

You and Clark were assigned to the event together as it was a rather large event. The money being raised was for meta-human teens and children, to help them better understand their abilities safely.

After hearing the guest list, you knew you had to wear the one forest green dress you wore to every fancy event. It was the nicest, and expensive, dress you owned. You paired it with three-inch black heels and a simple opal pendant. You never like dressing up too much. Clark wore a simple muted dark brown suit, with a navy blue button-up and blue tie to match it.

Now, it was rather tricky to keep your distance from Clark this time, and you really didn’t want to get flustered during work. Before it was at work, now it would be during work. There was a difference, granted a small difference, but still, a difference. At work, you just minded your business, and on occasion, goofing off when you weren’t writing an article. Here you were supposed to be interviewing and taking notes of everything happening. You couldn’t miss something important because Clark wanted to dance and you couldn’t keep your mind straight after. He didn’t ask you to dance, but, if he did you’d refuse.

“So, Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen-”

“Please, call me Oliver,” The blond said.

Before you stood Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. You were intending to speak to Mr. Wayne alone, but just as you approached him, Mr. Queen also got to him. You were about to apologize and walk away, however, Mr. Queen, or rather, Oliver, insisted you interviewed them together. You had to admit, it was rather nice having Oliver around as Mr. Wayne, even though he was known as a playboy, gave you a rather intimidating aura. 

You began interviewing the two, asking them the same questions you had asked all the millionaires, but ended up talking with them and enjoying it. Mr. Wayne wasn’t as intimidating as he had seemed, and Oliver was rather humorous. It was clear to you the two were friends.

You were in the middle of laughing at a joke Oliver had told when you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder. You turned your head, seeing Clark, standing right beside you with a smile. 

“Well you most certainly are having a good time,” He commented before turning his attention to the men in front of you. “Mr. Wayne, Mr. Queen, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He reached out with his free hand to shake theirs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well…” Mr. Wayne’s voice trailed off as he looked down at Clark’s badge from the daily planet, “...Mr. Kent.”

“Call me Oliver,” He said as he shook your coworker’s hand. “I take it you two were sent together?”

“Yes,” You said in sync.

The conversation continued, and the entire time Clark kept his arm around your shoulders. You nodded along, even humming a few times in response to make it appear as if you were listening as your mind wandered. ‘Why is my heart racing? Why is he still holding me? Should I say something? What if I seem rude? I don’t want him to let go though.’ Even though you didn’t want to acknowledge it, you knew there was a small part of you that always liked how petite you were compared to Clark. 

Then, you felt his thumb begin to rub small circles onto your bare shoulder. Without thinking, you slowly leaned into his larger frame. Now, you couldn’t see it because you were still looking ahead at the two millionaires, but Clark glanced down at you, happy you had come closer.

-

You couldn’t avoid Clark forever though, despite your best efforts.

You walked down the sidewalk, holding four large reusable grocery bags each full to the brim. You lived alone, but you liked to shop in bulk so you wouldn’t have to go out often. You were struggling a fair amount though. Normally, you had a friend who’d come with you to help you out and then the two of you would hang out. Sadly, all your friends were busy for the next few days and you were beginning to run out of your favorite conditioner, not to mention you were low on food.

You didn’t drive to the grocery store either, adding to your struggle. It was only three blocks away, why waste gas? You wouldn’t be struggling much longer though.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N)!” A male voice called out.

You stopped, eyes darting everywhere to find the owner of the voice. It took you a moment until you eventually spotted Clark in front of you, a good distance away.

“Oh, hi Clark!” You placed two of the bags down to give him a large arm wave.

It took him a moment to get to you, and when he did he looked down at your groceries puzzled. “That seems like a lot for one person to carry.”

“Yeah, I tend to bite off more than I can chew.”

“I’ve noticed,” He said with a chuckle. “Do you want some help?”

You shook your head. “No. I couldn’t possibly drag you away from your day off to help me.”

“It wouldn’t be a hassle at all,” He reassured you. “Plus, it’d eat at me all day knowing I left you struggling.”

Knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, you let out a sigh, agreeing to his help. He took three of the bags, leaving you with the one bag filled with two bags of chips, three loaves of bread, and two dozen eggs. You tried to hold two bags, make the work even between the two of you, but he insisted. He tried to carry the bag you held as well, but you were adamant you held at least one.

Walking down to your apartment complex, the two of you mainly talked about work. At least you did, and Clark more so listened. This was the first time your heart didn’t start racing as you stood next to him, probably because you wouldn’t shut up about the deadline for your new article. You refused to look up at him, eyes fixed only on what was in front of you. It didn’t take long for the two of you to get to your apartment. You thanked him and told him he could go on with his day, but he insisted he helped you carry the bags up to your apartment.

You were quiet from then on, listening to Clark talk about the building. He lead you all away to your front door, standing patiently for you to unlock your door. Then, it hit you. You noticed his shadow over you as you faced your front door. Your heart quickened a bit, still, you ignored it as you opened your front door.

You speedily guided him to the kitchen to place the groceries down, and just as fast you tried to rush him out. His brows furrowed, confusion written all over his face.

“(Y/N), why are you in such a rush to show me out?”

‘Because I can’t think straight now with you around!’ You thought. Instead, you said to him, “Because I’m tired and I want you to enjoy your day off!”

He didn’t seem to believe you. He stood in front of you, a small frown on his lips. “Do you like me?”

Your eyes widened, mouth left ajar at his question.

“Because sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

‘Oh-’ “What- No. I think you’re a great guy Clark.”

“Then why are you always avoiding me?” You didn’t think he had noticed. “Whenever I get close to you, you scurry off, and when you can’t you look uncomfortable.”

Like a child who had just gotten caught, you covered your face, too embarrassed to look at him. You didn’t want to tell him the real reason you were avoiding him, but, you also didn’t want him thinking you disliked him. It was the exact opposite.

“I’m not avoiding you because I don’t like you, Clark,” You said through your hands. You spread apart your fingers so you could look him in the eyes. “I… I avoid you because you’re… you’re so big.”

Now Clark was taken aback, a brow raised. “What?”

With a long exhale, you lowered your hands. “I said, I avoid you because you’re so… so big, and it makes me feel really small, and I can’t think straight.”

“You avoid me because I’m too big, and it makes you feel small, and you can’t think straight?” He repeated.

You nodded.

He was silent for a few seconds, tilting his head to the side. “In a good or bad way?”

“What?”

“In a good or bad way?”

You could feel your face heat up, and it wasn’t the only spot on you beginning to grow warm. Softly, you answered him. “In a good way, I guess.”

Clark took a step closer to you. “So you like the fact that I’m larger than you?”

“Yes, I just-”

“No.” His normally bright blue eyes seemed to darken, his eyes narrowed on you. “I want you to say it.”

You closed your legs closer together, feeling a heat rise in between your thighs. “I like that you’re so much bigger and stronger compared to me.”

Swiftly, Clark scooped you up, hands just beneath your bottom to raise you to his face. With how fast your heart was racing now you were sure he could hear it pounding in your chest. 

You looked into his eyes as you carefully took off his glasses and tossed them onto your couch. Then, you placed a hand on each side of his face and gave him a long soft kiss. He returned the kiss gently, though after a few minutes you could tell he wanted more, his kiss began to grow rough. 

You had wrapped your legs around him to be more comfortable, giving him a better grip on you. He squeezed your ass and in response you let out a soft moan. He lowered you a bit, only enough for you to feel his growing erection against your fully clothed core. He held your hips close, moving you against him for a bit of friction. You whimpered, lowering your head into his chest and gripping his dark grey shirt.

“Clark, please,” You whined.

“Where’s your bedroom?” He asked, voice deeper than usual.

You pulled your head away from his chest, nodding over in the direction of your bedroom. “Second door to the right,”

Almost hurried, he carried you straight to your bedroom. He stopped right at the edge of your bed, letting go and letting you fall back onto your mattresses. He crawled on top of you, placing a knee between your legs. Gently, he peeled away your clothes, tossing them to the side and leaving you in your underwear. He began peppering kisses around your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone. As he did, his hand crept its way behind your back and undid the clasp on your bra. He pulled away from his kisses to watch your breasts bounce free, eyes fixed on your bare chest. 

Feeling embarrassed, you moved to cover your chest with your hands, but he pinned your hands above your head with one hand.

A low chuckle escaped him. “Aw, are you feeling shy?”

You were about to turn your head away when Clark dipped his head down, capturing your lips again. You could feel his free hand slowly trail up your side, humming as a shiver went down your spine. He cupped your breast firmly, beginning to knead it in his palm.

Small moans left your lips, arching your back, body begging for more. You already knew your panties were wet, and you needed him, but he was still fully clothed. All the while you could feel his denim-covered erection against your thigh.

“Clark,” You groaned against his lips, “It’s not fair.”

He pulled back, brows raised. You struggled to pull your hands free, to no avail.

“You’re still dressed,” You said with a pout.

He gave you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, how about you take care of that for me?”

He let go of your hands and you eagerly reached for the end of his shirt, pulling it off of him. You almost started drooling seeing him shirtless for the first time. Your hands began to wander around his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles. Your hands wandered down further, to the hem of his pants. Just as you were about to reach for his belt, his hand stopped you.

“You’re not ready yet sweetheart,” He warned you. 

“Clark-”

He pressed his mouth against you, silencing you before you could complain. Even though you weren’t allowed to undo his pants, he slid them off with ease and you felt his long hard member pressed against your thigh. You momentarily pulled away to glance down, gasping loudly when you saw his length.

Worried, you looked back up at him. “It’s not going to fit.”

He dipped his head back down to your neck, peppering kisses across your jaw. “That’s why we need to get you ready.”

His hand moved down to your soaked panties, pushing them down so you were completely bare now. Your breathing hitched, feeling him stick in a finger and begin to move it in and out of you slowly. He picked up the pace with his finger, eventually sticking in another and he could already feel your pussy tightening.

You were growing close and he was only fucking you with his fingers. Granted, his hands were larger than yours, so two of his fingers felt much larger than two of your own.

To add on, he lowered himself so his head would be right at your dripping cunt and began sucking on your clit. 

“Ah!” Your hands went straight to his hair and began to tug. You were a mess in his hands.

It didn’t take long for your body to shudder and your hips begin to spasm as you hit your high. Clark licked up your pouring juice, humming at your sweet taste. He looked up at you, two fingers remaining and now scissoring inside of you.

“You know, you really should ask for help if you can’t reach something,” He began. “It’s hard trying to hold back when you reach for things in those tight skirts of yours.”

“Well, now you don’t need to hold back,” You teased.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, grabbing his face with one hand and guiding him back to you. You could taste your juices in the kiss, humming in delight.

He pulled his fingers out, your core aching to be filled again. Luckily, you soon felt his already dripping tip at your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you and you could feel your walls stretch around him. You nearly cried, your body in a mix of pain and pleasure. Your back arched, breasts pressing against Clark’s chest. Your hands gripped his arms as tight as you could, and you were sure you were digging your nails into him.

It was so much. You could feel your eyes water and tears prick at the corners of your eyes.

Clark kissed your forehead, muttered against it, “Just relax.”

He gave a small moment to adjust, noting how your breathing changed when you had gotten used to him. He pushed himself further in though, and you cursed under your breath, body growing tense again. 

Again, he gave you a moment to adjust, despite how painfully tight your walls clamped around him. He pulled out a small amount before pushing back in, bucking his a few times to get you used to him. Eventually, your quiet whimpers turned into small moans.

“M-more,” You breathed out, breath shaky.

Like a switch had been flipped in him, Clark pulled out almost all the way and speared you, no longer as gentle as he had been before. He did this again and again, going a little harder each time at a constant rhythm. Then, with one thrust you shouted his name loudly and your cunt squeezed around his cock.

“Ah! Clark again! Right there, please!” You begged him.

Knowing he had found your g-spot, he pulled out all the way this time and pounded that same spot, earning another cry of pleasure from you. He did this repeatedly now with a faster rhythm, leaving you gasping and clenching with each thrust. With each of your breaths growing ragged, it was clear you were both close to your release. 

You wrapped a leg around his hips to try and bring him closer, and he gripped your thigh harshly. He squeezed it so tightly, you were sure there’d be a faint bruise. 

With a few more thrusts, you shuddered, juices flowing out of you again and around Clark’s cock this time. You swore you heard Clark curse, feeling you squeeze around him and juices cover him. 

His rhythm was growing sloppy, and he pumped in and out of you until he let out a low groan of relief. You took a sharp breath, feeling his warm seed enter you. He continued to buck his hips, riding it out until he finally stopped, breath heavy.

He looked at you with now clear eyes and a smile on his face. “So… Do you need help putting your groceries away?” He asked cheekily.

You giggled. “Only if you don’t put anything important on the top shelf.”

“Why not? I’ll be around to help you now.”

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 40

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 22.8k (this will crash ur phone so pls read on desktop) ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba chapter specific warnings: violence, blood/injury, choking, brief depiction of a panic attack ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act five ➻ part seven

The stench in the air is some cross between smoke and rotting food. It’s enough to make your nose wrinkle in disgust, something you’ve done several times over the past twenty minutes since getting here, but Hongjoong is still sitting beside you and tinkering with his wristband in the same position he’s been in since arriving. A chain-link fence and a row of boxes are all that separate you from your target — the military complex in the Upper Echelon just as Jisung detailed to Hongjoong the day before. It’s closer to the thickest parts of the Smokehouses in the lower area, which is no doubt what’s causing the smell and, in turn, your misery.

“The outside security is a combination of motion sensors, cameras, and guards,” Hongjoong notes, not looking up from his forearm. “Keep monitoring the guards’ patterns for now while we wait. My techie here in Lynder is working on hacking their surveillance systems remotely.”

“Anything specific to look out for?”

“Just their patrol patterns. Once we get the cameras and sensors down, we can sneak in the side. On our initial patrol, I saw a spot in one of the left alleys where the fence bends up. We’ll slip under there and infiltrate through the trash chute.”

“The trash chute,” you echo. You tear your gaze off the courtyard beyond the fence to peer at Hongjoong with question in your eyes. “How will that help?”

Hongjoong looks up from his wristband at long last, only to stare directly forward and jab a finger at the building before you two.

“Trash chute wraps down to the basement. They use air turbines to push trash up and out of the building, so it will be easy for us to slip down. I just got a blueprint of the building from my hacker. It’s not enormous but it’s big enough for us to need to stick together. No booby traps waiting inside either, since they don’t really expect company like ours, but there are a few single or double guard patrols to watch out for on each floor. This is more of a scientist and doctor facility, so we shouldn’t be seeing anything in the way of large squadrons.”

“Then couldn’t we just walk in the front door?” You ask, head tilting to eye the guards once more.

“With this pretty face on display? I think not. They might not recognize you since they have no image data on you, but me? They’ve got all sorts of image references on me that could cause lots of issues for both of us. It’s best if we avoid whatever confrontation we can.”

“How are we meant to avoid confrontation when moving from level to level?”

“The trash chute leads down to a maintenance area, so there will be workers bringing trash in the basement. We knock them out, put them in a safe and secure location, and take their uniforms. Their keycards will grant access to each level so we can move almost freely around the building. Chances are San will be behind a door that those keycards can’t grant access to.” Hongjoong motions forward but you keep your gaze firmly set on him. “That’s where my techie comes in handy again.”

“You’re relying a lot on this friend,” you mutter, finally dropping your eyes to the chain-link fence before you once more.

“I happen to trust him quite a bit, yes. He’s a bounty hunter, so we’ve had plenty of run-ins with each other over the years and he’s always helped me in many ways. Meeting him here on Dorado, though, that was planned. I asked him to come because I knew the chances of needing a techie like him would be high, and he was in the area. After the mission with Seonghwa tomorrow, we’ll be dropping in to visit him for payment too. Bounty hunters never work for free after all.”

“Makes sense,” you hum. A guard passes. One, two, three seconds, then he wraps around the side of the building again. “I considered working as one for a short period of time but it never came to fruition.”

Hongjoong’s eyes snap over to you.

“Why did it fall through? I would have pinpointed you as the type to be very good in that line of work. All things considered, I mean.”

“Hm, yeah, I suppose I would be. I did a few odd jobs here and there.” Two guards walk in tandem across your line of vision. They split after five seconds this time, one falling back and repeating his path in the opposite direction and the other continuing to walk straight ahead into the courtyard. “I had to kill a few people, but every time I shot someone, all I could see was the teammate who died in my place. At least that’s the memory I had for years. After seeing my teammate in the brother, I’m not even sure that’s what truly happened anymore.”

“What is it you remember then?”

“Him being publicly executed while I couldn’t pull the trigger fast enough.”

“What was his name?” Hongjoong asks all of a sudden, and it startles you enough to rip the focus from your bones. You jerk to look him in the eye, finding him staring right back at you from where he’s crouched not even a foot away.

“Why is that important?”

“Maybe it isn’t,” Hongjoong shrugs. “Maybe it’s better to bury your memories with the dead. I think you believe that yourself. Yet seeing as you still haven’t buried the thought of him after all this time, something tells me you never buried him. So… I’ll ask again, Y/N, what is his name?”

“Hyunwoo… his name is — was Hyunwoo.”

Hongjoong lets out a barely audible hum.

“I’ll ask my hunter about it.”

“Why?” comes your immediate response.

“If he’s the one who died, then he’s the one your pardon papers are meant for, no? If he’s not truly dead, then would you not want to hand those papers over to him anyway? The military still blames him for taking part in the king’s death even after they learned who truly did it, don’t they? Since Jisung’s fate is in your hands, you’ll have every opportunity to ask him what the truth is. Consider this to be a safety net to be sure he’s telling the truth.” Despite the weight of his words and how much gravity they hold, Hongjoong doesn’t so much as blink an eye at anything he’s just promised to you. The level of nonchalance should be infuriating at best, but you find yourself looking down at the ground with an odd weight on your shoulders now.

“Thank you,” you whisper under your breath.

“Pay attention,” he replies just as quickly, jerking his head towards the courtyard.

You do as asked without complaint or question this time. The patterns aren’t hard to follow or anything out of the ordinary. Nothing more than a simple back and forth around the perimeter of the building, one guard to cover each side. The one along this back wall you’re eyeing meets up with the guard at the left side, pauses to talk for a minute or so, then turns back to do the same with the guard at the opposite side when he reaches it. From the looks of it, there’s a significant gap in the patrol when the guard turns, which is no doubt meant to be covered by the motion sensors and cameras, but once those are down, you’ll have an easy opening to get inside.

“Alright, Nightingale is in,” Hongjoong announces after several minutes have passed. “Surveillance is down.”

“Nightingale? As in…?”

“Hacker, techie, bounty hunter — whatever you wanna call him. No time to stop and chat about him right now though, let’s get moving. You lead since you’ve been keeping track of the patrols. I’ll be right behind you.” Hongjoong pushes up from the ground, and you mirror his movements only to step around him in search of that alley he mentioned earlier. The silence that falls over the two of you is nothing if not terse, a wariness of your surroundings that has been unfamiliar for a while now. You can’t remember the last time you went on a mission that required this of you — even the first mission Hongjoong sent you on wasn’t as life-threatening as this one is. In a way, the risk offers a level of adrenaline that helps keep you focused and honed in on every shifting sense. Knowing what lies at the end of the line also helps. If you keep San at the forefront of your mind, getting through this should be far from worrisome.

You don’t need to explain your plan of action to Hongjoong when you reach that gap in the fence. He merely squats down and pulls the wire up so you can slip through first, and you do exactly that, pushing under the prongs and slipping into the base with no issues so far. It’ll be thirty seconds before the guard turns and starts heading back this way. That only gives Hongjoong half that time to join you on this side of the fence and duck behind the nearest row of boxes. You crouch beside the fence and pull up just like he did for you, eyeing the area over your shoulder just in case the guard decides to move sooner than expected. You’re safe from that for the time being; Hongjoong slides under to join you then the two of you split in opposite directions for cover.

“I’ll take the lead to the chute.” Hongjoong’s voice crackles through your earpiece and it resounds with a bit of static against your eardrum. You know Yeosang is on the other side of this call as well, monitoring what he can from the ship where the others also remain for the time being. “How much time until he walks back?”

“He just started walking this way. 23 seconds for him to reach the other side, then he’ll stop and talk to his friend for a bit. Anywhere from 60 to 120 seconds.”

“Stay put for now then. We can’t afford to risk it.”

You nod rather than responding verbally, eyes darting over to the side as the guard enters your field of vision. You drop your head further behind the boxes and splay your shoulders flat against their weight.

“Forward me the blueprints, Captain.” Yeosang is the one to speak this time. He cuts through the silence with such suddenness that you nearly jolt forward, barely holding back to flatten yourself as much as you can without causing a ruckus. Hongjoong fiddles with his wristband across from you. These two minutes could be the most crucial ones of the whole operation, and it’s only just the beginning. You’re silently begging that Hongjoong’s hacker keeps those cameras down as long as possible because one is staring you down at the corner of the building, just high enough to peek over the lip of the boxes and into your hiding spot.

“Shift’s almost over, eh?”

“Just about.”

They’re just loud enough for you to overhear, a quick way to keep track of where they are and how long it will take for you and Hongjoong to safely move out.

“Need a more honest job than protecting what’s going on down there in those labs. It’s inhumane honestly.”

“Most people they drag down there are criminals. I say reprogramming their heads is better than clogging the prisons.”

One guard snorts at that.

“Trade a life of crime for a life of legalized crime? I’m gonna be a father soon. I’m not sure I want to tell my kid and wife that dad is guarding doctors like that.”

“Yeah well, tell your kid that you’re bringing home the big bills and your dame won’t care one bit. As long as I don’t hear the screams of those poor souls, I’m content to live like this.”

“Calm down.”

The voice hisses through the white noise that rises in your ears, and you jerk your head to look in Hongjoong’s direction. He levels you with a sharp and piercing stare that has you gnawing at your lower lip. He must have noticed something you didn’t because you glance down to see your fists curled into such tight fights that your knuckles bleed pure white from the pressure.

“Don’t listen to what they’re saying. Stay focused on the mission at hand.”

You release the tension in your hands. The conversation behind you dies down, then you hear a slight shuffle. In the next moment, the guards are peeling apart and your target of interest is moving back in the opposite direction. Go time. You move when Hongjoong does, following his quick nod with one of your own then slipping out from behind your cover as he does. The guard is halfway to the other side, the other one already disappeared around the corner without a trace. It leaves the perfect opening for you two to get to the aforementioned trash chute, and when you reach it, Hongjoong lifts the cover to slip inside first. He turns just before jumping down.

“Be careful on your way down. It’s wide so you’ll need to mind your step. Wait a few seconds then follow me down.”

“Noted, Captain.”

Hongjoong dips into the opening of the chute, falling out of your sight in mere seconds, and you blink at the spot where he just was until the sound of him sliding down fades some, then you climb in behind him. There’s not an infinite amount of time for you to get in and out of sight before that guard turns around and spots you. It’s enough time for you to do a doubletake at the top of the tube because it is indeed wide, and you nearly fall into the chute headfirst. There’s no lighting whatsoever inside either, leaving you to guess where Hongjoong is. And on top of that, it’s both cramped and slightly claustrophobic despite being moderately wide. It takes having your feet firmly planted on one end with your elbows supporting your awkward and stilted shimmy down on the other to start moving downwards, but once you find a somewhat steady rhythm, you catch up with Hongjoong in no time.

You find the captain at the bottommost portion of the chute, feet finally reaching a solid landing place and getting you back upright, even if you have to squat to fit beside Hongjoong. The faintest blue light emits from his wristband and it highlights the path, or rather paths, ahead — a branching chute that splits in three directions. Hongjoong is reviewing the blueprint on his small band’s screen religiously when you land beside him. He doesn’t spare you the slightest glance until he seems to figure out which direction he wants to go next.

“Right tunnel will take us to the nearest maintenance room.”

Hongjoong slots himself into the opening, flattening all the way to his stomach to fit in the space, and you follow suit as best you can. It’s a deceptively wide space, one that makes you think the fit will be easy and comfortable. You are, however, quickly proven incorrect once you start moving. It also proves difficult to see what you’re doing and what Hongjoong is doing too. When he comes to a halt, you have to bring yourself to a sudden stop behind him before you take a heeled boot to the nose. He shifts just enough to let you see past his body and directly through the slats of the grate in front of him. A pair of legs clad in what seems to be a thin plastic material waits on the other side, unmoving and daunting to say the least. An itch touches the back of your throat. You resist the urge to swallow.

There’s an unspoken command from Hongjoong that says ‘don’t make a fucking sound’ and you’re more than happy to follow that command without complaint for now. You suck a breath in through your nose, willing the air to not whistle as it enters your system. The silence hanging in the cramped space is deafening and more than a little intimidating, to say the least.

You don’t count the seconds until there’s finally movement on the other side of the vent. The rustle of plastic rubbing against itself resounds; it pulls a pit more anxiety into your body and you only let yourself relax a hair when steps begin to echo through the room. They grow quieter with each passing moment, leading further and further away from where you and Hongjoong are hidden. Then — a whoosh, a sigh, and a slam.

Silence.

Two seconds pass, then another five without a sound.

Hongjoong moves first, although you couldn’t move much even if you wanted to, and he pushes forward through the grate until his feet find solid ground at last. You follow suit as quickly as you can, shimmying yourself through the chute and to the now-empty maintenance room alongside Hongjoong.

“The maintenance group should be back in a few minutes with a new batch of trash and to restock on supplies. We’ll need to hide on either side of the door and be ready to knock them out when they get back.”

“Will there be two workers?” You inquire. Your gaze finds Hongjoong out the corner of your eye, switching between taking in your new surroundings and examining the captain as he does the same.

“Yes, two workers per floor. That’s why I didn’t let you take this as a solo mission. Two people would be ideal for getting in and out without unnecessary suspicion.

“How exactly are we supposed to pull a whole prisoner out of here without suspicion?” You counter. Hongjoong twists at the neck to regard you with a rather demure stare.

“That’s the hard part. We don’t know what physical condition San is in yet. He might not be able to walk or stand on his own. Could be unconscious for all we know. But if we have to, we’ll fight our way out. Nightingale can only do so much to their systems; he can’t take down the guards for us.”

“The fighting won’t be an issue,” you mutter. Your hand moves around to your back on its own accord, feeling for the pistol tucked away under your jacket there, and your nerves settle a tad when your fingers close around the grip.

“Except fighting is loud, and it draws far too much attention. We’re trying not to pick fights here. San is the priority.”

“His safety is as well.”

“And putting him in unnecessary amounts of danger by picking fights with these fools is almost more of a risk.”

That is enough of a reality check to shut you up, and your jaw aches a bit as you clench your teeth tight. Hongjoong’s stare lingers a while longer, as though he’s regarding you with some sort of unknown perception and sees something you don’t in your own wall of emotions. Then he turns with nothing more than a huff and heads for the doors leading into this maintenance room.

“They should be on their way back by now. Get on the other side of the door and be ready to strike.”

You do as told, acting the part of the perfect soldier you need to be right now, and line up opposite Hongjoong just beside the doorframe. There isn’t time to contemplate who these people are, what their stories are, what secrets they hold — they could be the most innocent people in the universe for all you care. The fact of the matter is that they are about to be in the wrong place at the wrong time by their standards. By yours, they’ll be in the right place at the right time and fall perfectly into this plan Hongjoong has constructed. Contemplating the intricacies of morality at a time like this while San’s life could be hanging in the balance? You already know what side of the scales you sit on and that’s the one that favors San’s life over a stranger’s.

You blink over at Hongjoong, finding a similar steely resolution on his features, although he doesn’t seem nearly as bothered about the idea of harming an innocent in the crossfire while this all goes down. And given his track record, that does nothing to surprise you in the slightest.

It does, however, leave you a bit curious. Seonghwa claimed that the side of himself he dislikes — the Lieutenant of Death, that is — erases the lines between good and bad, the moral compass becomes skewed and stilted, and he can’t tell whether what he’s doing is the right thing or not. Looking directly in the face of the Scourge of the Black Sea right now, you can’t help but wonder if, at some point down the line, the person who made Seonghwa who he is today stands right across from you. Hongjoong would never take the blame, nor would Seonghwa ever pin it on him. The only person you can think of who could answer that question for you would be Yunho, and god knows if he would ever divulge that information to you of all people.

That line of thought is brought to an abrupt halt in the next few seconds. The doors before you slide open all the way, and the only thing to mask your sharp inhale is the loud and rumbling noise of plastic wheels rolling over the floor. Warm-toned voices lift above the wheels as two custodial workers dressed in their plastic suits stride into the room.

You and Hongjoong exchange one glance before bursting into motion. The captain moves first, arm slinging out and wrapping around the throat of the one closest to him. You follow suit as quickly as you can; it only takes a quick jab with the butt of your gun to take him out. You catch the body before it slumps to the floor and causes more noise, eyeing Hongjoong while he lulls his victim into unconsciousness.

“Take the outer suit and put it over your clothes,” he orders once both are out cold. “Bodies in the bins at the back.” You work in haste to strip the outer suit off and haul the body over to the bins in question — the ones closest to the vent you slipped in through — and by the time you turn around with your new suit fully on, Hongjoong has already done the same and hooked a mask over the lower half of his face. He tosses a matching one your way, a simple white surgical mask to help mitigate the cleaning supply fumes. “Alright, go time. Keycard should be in your pocket but double-check before we go.”

You pad over the wrinkled pockets and catch hold of the keycard, flashing it in the captain’s directions with a sharp nod.

“We’re heading out of the maintenance room and going for the elevators. We’ll update you on which level we’re on there,” Hongjoong says into his wrist before tucking it under the plastic sleeve of his new suit. It only takes a quick motion of his index finger to summon you to his side. You fall into step beside him and match his moderate pace as he takes the trash cart left abandoned by the workers you just took out. The snort that escapes through your lips is suffocated by the mask, but Hongjoong hears it nonetheless.

“I never thought I would see the Scourge of the Black Sea pushing a trash cart in a plastic janitor outfit,” you explain in a rush when his glare falls on you.

“Then you wouldn’t believe it if I told you I wore a corset and dress for a mission once.”

Your shock is both immediate and evident in your wide eyes, but Hongjoong pays you no mind and instead nods down the corridor.

“We need to move up to Level 3. That’s where San should be according to the blueprints and Nightingale’s intel. Rehabilitation and reprogramming happen there. Han didn’t provide us with much on this side of the walls, so things are going to be more difficult from here on out.”

You manage to stay quiet and mind your own business for a grand total of two minutes. In your defense, the silence is deafening and no one is around to eavesdrop on a hushed conversation anyway, so you have no issue speaking up while neither of you is speaking into your wristbands for Yeosang or the bounty hunter to overhear.

“When can I address the elephant in the room?”

“What would that be?”

It’s enough of an affirmation for you to clear your throat and speak your mind further.

“Seonghwa, of course.”

That has Hongjoong shaking his head a few times.

“Whatever happened between the two of you after I left the brig is none of my business.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” you protest without missing a beat. “Him being afraid of me. That part.” If the words contain a bit of bite to them, that’s not your fault; it’s enough to spur Hongjoong to sigh deeply into his mask.

“You truly pick the most inopportune times for conversations like these.” When he says nothing more than that, you think you’ve poked and prodded too much for his liking. Looking ahead of you again only shows that you’ve reached an elevator, and Hongjoong has simply paused to fiddle with the buttons. “Heading up to Level 3, we’re sitting at G8 below ground right now. The ride up will probably be slow and take a few minutes.” You at least have the decency to wait until he pulls his wrist away from his face before you speak again.

“This is the perfect time for a talk then, isn’t it? A long and silent elevator trip?”

“My stance hasn’t changed,” Hongjoong replies as he pushes the supply cart into the elevator. You follow close behind, eyes focused on the back of his head despite it being hooded in plastic. The doors slide shut behind you, then the captain fiddles with the metal buttons on the inner panel.

“What did I do wrong? Genuinely and honestly tell me what I did wrong without bias affecting your stance.”

“Besides threatening to take your own life?”

“That was merely an intimidation tactic! Surely you have used something similar in your line of work.”

Hongjoong’s gaze flits down to the floor as the elevator lurches into motion.

“I have, of course, I’m no stranger to such a tactic. But there are — there are lingering traumas from such methods for Seonghwa… as well as myself.”

“And I suppose I’m supposed to simply accept that without asking you to elaborate?”

“Why should you need to know anything beyond that? You asked for an explanation, and there it is.”

“I can tell it has something to do with the crew,” you persist, “the crew I am now part of, so it doesn’t seem fair to hold that information back when I’m sure everyone else knows as well. For fuck’s sake, we’re pirates. We lie and kill and threaten people every day while stealing and letting innocent people come into harm’s way. What was different about what I did?”

Hongjoong’s initial response comes in the form of a hiss then he swings the side of his fist into the wall of the elevator. You bite back the instinct to flinch into a fighting stance.

“San did exactly what you tried to do once. Brought a knife out and took it to his own arms and legs out of a sick and desperate attempt to bargain with someone. It was early on when the crew was made up of only myself, Seonghwa, San, and three other pirates who didn’t survive the mutiny. Yunho hadn’t joined us yet, and we had no doctor on board so when… San went on a rampage trying to do what you did, and he succeeded at getting a lot more then. And no matter how hard Seonghwa tried, he couldn’t fucking stop San, nor could I succeed in apprehending him when I tried getting him under control. Just like you, he was insistent that he get this one bit of crucial information out of the target. Wasn’t even anyone important or someone who cared about San the way Han cares about you. The man couldn’t stomach the sight of blood or wounds though; both made him sick to his stomach. So San’s solution was to not only torture the target but also himself — for every cut to the other man, he would inflict one on himself. When San finally got fed up with Seonghwa’s attempts to stop him, San knocked him down and tied him to the door handles so Seonghwa couldn’t interrupt anymore.”

Hongjoong pauses to release a deep exhale and pull his hand away from the wall. There’s an eerie sense of calm to his movements despite how full of rage he seemed before speaking. All you can do is stare at his side profile out the corner of your eye, the plastic wrapped around your body suddenly seeming a lot more suffocating than before.

“Witnessing something like that… being unable to stop something like that from happening and watching a person devolve into some form of insanity — it’s a hefty burden to bear. And when Seonghwa saw you begin to do that, it took him back to that place, that memory, where he was when it happened before. He carried that burden with him for a long time, to a point where he didn’t trust himself to protect the crew because he couldn’t stop it before. But back then? Then he could at least try to stop it because he wasn’t locked up the whole time like he was when you started spiraling. With you, he was completely and utterly powerless to stop you, which is why he pinged my wristband and asked me to come down to the brig.”

“I didn’t realize you let him keep his wristband.”

“I didn’t put him in the brig to punish him. And you… it’s not that you aren’t allowed to have your moments like that. We’re all killers, we all have some loose screws, hardly anyone on the crew is perfectly put together and sane. It’s that you exercised a lack of control and stability that we need to see from you. The bare minimum, Y/N. That’s all we ask from you.”

You stare at the wall of the elevator without saying anything for several tense seconds. Your teeth worry your lower lip, rubbing the skin raw and red under your abuse, and you only pull away when you taste something metallic hit your tongue.

“Back then… what was so important that San would do such a thing?”

Hongjoong shakes his head twice.

“It doesn’t matter. It didn’t matter back then. He cared so little about himself that he would throw himself into the worst situations. Didn’t care one bit about living for anyone, not even himself. Besides, those scars aren’t my stories to tell.”

“He told me once that he wanted to die in his face-off with Cara,” you whisper, not daring to raise your voice any higher than that even though it’s just you and Hongjoong in the elevator.

“He’s come a long way since then,” Hongjoong says back in the same hushed tone. “Most of the crew don’t know about that incident, or even about that part of him aside from Seonghwa, Jongho, and myself. I don’t think he’s ever brought it up with Yunho, but that’s not any of my business anyway.”

“Right because your business is just to make sure everyone does their job, isn’t it?”

“My business, Y/N, is to be a leader. Not to coddle you or treat you like a weak link for any past traumas. You were punished for making a mistake, not for being damaged.”

“You seem to coddle Seonghwa just fine.” You don’t look back at the captain but you can all but feel the heat of his stare on the side of your face after you speak.

“If you paid any attention to my actions, Y/N, you would see I coddle other members of the crew just the same. You’re simply hyperfixating on how I treat Seonghwa because that’s who you see me interact with the most.”

“I see more than enough of how you and Yunho interact as well,” you retort through a soft scoff. Your eyes dart up to the elevator panel, watching the number slowly inch onwards to your destination.

“Oh, we do a lot more than coddle each other when you’re not around.”

“I don’t recall asking for details.”

“And I don’t recall offering any details.”

You finally look over at Hongjoong. The moment you do, your eyes find his dark ones, the playful smirk curling over his lips once more with no sign of relenting, and that’s the instant you realize you are most definitely in over your head when it comes to the Scourge of the Black Sea.

“Despite what you might think, Y/N,” Hongjoong starts again, his voice carrying more gravity to it than before, “my intention has never been to put you down for what you’ve been through in the past. I would not offer my help in restoring your lost memories if I did not care just a little bit. Beyond your importance to San… to Seonghwa… to the crew, you are a valuable asset. I’d like to see how valuable you can be at your full potential.”

“Perhaps my value only lies in being broken,” you counter. You twist your neck to look at the captain more directly. He stares back, mirroring your blank stare with one of his own.

“Or perhaps those walls are holding you back. I guess that’s for us to discover, no?”

You bring your chin forward once more and avoid his stare for the rest of the long ride up to Level 3. You can’t keep yourself from thinking about what he said though. It leaves you with more than you want to think about right now, and yet the truth of the matter lies directly in front of you. Whatever special Siren abilities you have are not reliable enough to be drawn out on command. Like there’s an invisible collar around your neck threatening to hurt you any time you use them. And like Wooyoung’s dead collar that keeps him from tapping into his abilities, the only thing holding you back is your own head. It’s more than likely that whatever happened to your memories and however Jisung fucked them up is the reason why you have so much trouble with it to begin with.

A lurch in the elevator’s movements pulls you from your thoughts. Moments later, it screeches to a halt that has your balance wavering, and the doors slide open to expose a deceptively similar corridor. You move to step out but Hongjoong grabs you first. His fingers crinkle around the plastic.

“We have to make this believable, so for the love of god, please behave.” The words are hissed through gritted teeth, but even if he hadn’t spat them your way, you would have caught the emotion in his eyes that matches the intensity of his tone.

“I didn’t take you to be a religious man,” you quip back if anything just to deflect the seriousness of the situation looming over you. Hongjoong seems rather amused by that, in the very least, as he huffs through a smirk and steps away to push the cart into the hallway. You fall into step beside him, matching the pace he sets in a few seconds while scanning the monotonous greys and whites surrounding you.

Given what this place is supposed to be, it’s painstakingly clean, although you don’t doubt that the maintenance crew you took out factors into that. Hongjoong keeps his gaze forward, occasionally flitting between his wristband and the area ahead. You’re walking blind beside him with just hope and trust guiding you through the floorplan. Hongjoong is good with directions thankfully because he leads both of you through the halls without hitting a single dead end.

That, however, proves to be the least of your worries.

The guards milling about the corridors with rifles strapped to their backs are your primary concern. It would be no issue if they simply passed by the two of you. But instead, you see the military in its full glory: each guard you pass either kicks the maintenance cart and tries to topple the cleaning supplies or goes for a cheeky shoulder check to knock you or Hongjoong off balance. The temptation to fucking clock them between the eyes each time it happens is simply overwhelming, but Hongjoong’s voice is ringing in your ears along with the reminder that if anything goes wrong now, it could cost you San’s rescue. That thought makes it easy to swallow your pride and push forward with your chin tucked to your chest.

You quickly lose track of how many twists and turns Hongjoong guides you through. The floor seems to go on forever — a white labyrinth that stretches into eternity — and when Hongjoong finally comes to a halt, it’s in the middle of an empty corridor with no end in sight. Your lips part to speak but the captain seems to sense it and lifts a hand to stop you. His finger twitches against the air, a surprisingly steady pattern of jerks that confuse you until you realize he’s counting seconds with each invisible tap.  

“Nightingale hacked the cameras on this floor. It may not last long depending on their security system, so we’ll need to move fast, understood?”

“Aye, Captain,” you echo back.

“We need to cut through these rooms to get to the corridor on the other side. That one will lead to the holding rooms. Maintenance cards don’t allow access to this division though.”

“So we’re at an impasse? Or does your bounty hunter have a way out of this one too?”

“No.” Hongjoong glances over the wall of metal before him. He runs a hand across the seam in the metal and brushes down to touch the handle of the door. “This is where you come in.”

“I need you to phase through the door and flip the lock.”

“You planned for this?”

“Yes, of course, I did.”

“Even when Wooyoung was originally supposed to come with?”

Again, Hongjoong affirms it, this time with a sharp nod of his head.

“I don’t even know how to do that.”

“You know it’s a Siren ability though, don’t you? You mean to tell me you’ve never done it?”

“I—”

“Did Seonghwa not teach you anything?”

“I’ve done it out of instinct when my life was at risk, not because I knew what the hell I was doing.” And once when San’s life was at risk but that’s hardly important and not something you wish to admit aloud right now in this very instant. “It was like — like a subconscious need to do something, and that’s how my body reacted.” Hongjoong hisses something inaudible under his breath, and you’re certain it’s nothing short of scathing.

“If we can’t get through this door, then we can’t recover San. So guess what? It may not be your life at risk, but it is San’s. I’m telling you what I need from you right now, Y/N. It’s on you to deliver it.”

“And I’m telling you that this isn’t something I can simply control. Last time I tried to bring out any semblance of my oh-so-great ‘abilities’, I fucking failed.” Hongjoong darts a hand out to grip your bicep, crushing your muscles under the plastic covering of your disguise. You lurch forward as he tugs you to the wall. It’s quick and messy, a stumble here then nearly face-planting into the metal without warning, but you brace yourself against it with your free hand.

“Don’t make me regret bringing you here, Ghost. I trust you to take whatever risks you have to when it comes to saving San. You either prove that trust to be misplaced right now, or you give me a damn good reason to put some faith in you.”

You flatten your palm to the cool metal. Hongjoong stares you down from your peripheral, eyes tracing the side of your face rather than where your hand touches the door.

Just a little push. In three, two, one —

You shove against the surface with all your might.

Only for nothing to happen.

You give another shove, this time pushing all the force you can muster into it.

And again, nothing happens. The door doesn’t budge, nor does your hand against it. Bile creeps up the back of your throat as reality sinks in.

“Fuck,” Hongjoong spits through his teeth. “We don’t have time for this. A guard will come around this hallway in two minutes.” Then, all of a sudden, he reaches across the space between you and the door. His hand closes around your forearm, fingers splayed over the plastic.

And just as he does that, your hand begins to sink through the metal of the door as though it’s nothing but opaque water with no resistance. Panic sneaks up on you out of nowhere as you watch your hand dip further into the surface. You startle and stumble forward like you’re going to follow your hand through, but Hongjoong slips between you and the door before that can happen.

“Unlock it, Y/N.”

The order barely processes in your hazy mind. The space between your bodies is minimal at best, but the more frightening fact is that your whole hand is currently pushed through a previously solid surface. You can’t imagine it would be pretty if the door suddenly decided to close around your limb. Hongjoong’s grip on your forearm is the only thing grounding you to reality at the moment, and you frankly have forgotten how to breathe in your state of terror. The only thing you’re vaguely aware of is how cold your right hand currently is on the other side of the door.

It takes you a moment to gain the courage to actually move your fingers, flexing and twisting them a little without issue. You fumble around blindly in search of the lock to no avail. And by pure instinct, you stretch your other hand out to the door like you’re going to brace yourself without thinking twice. Again, it’s Hongjoong who stops you and catches your other wrist before you can touch the door.

“You’ll just go all the way through if you do that. I need to keep a grip on you if you don’t want to end up losing an arm.”

“H-How the — what did you do?” You stammer. His answer never comes though because your fingers finally fall over something cool to the touch. You snap the lock, listening to the clear click that follows, and relief overtakes the panic. Hongjoong pushes against you and effectively pulls your arm out of the door without issue.

“Let’s go, we don’t have much time.” You don’t have time to do anything more than rub at your wrist and flex your fingers before you’re following Hongjoong into the dark room ahead. The cleaning cart rattles over the lip of the threshold once. The door slides shut with a whoosh of air. Then silence overtakes the two of you.

Within seconds, the room is hit with fluorescent white light. Hongjoong appears beside you, illuminated by the glow with his hand on the wall. When he drops his arm, he reaches for the zipper of his plastic suit. You watch on with apprehension to your gaze, still clutching your own hand to your chest as he pulls his left arm free. Whatever he’s doing is unbeknownst to you. Confusion still rings across your features when he waves his hand before you.

“The ring on my middle finger — this is what’s called a conductor.” You blink between his features and the band, catching sight of the simple silver ring around his finger that holds nothing more than two white gems laid side by side across the front. “It amplifies class abilities for the wearer, but it’s also strong enough to conduct the wearer’s energy through another person with physical contact. Which is why holding your arm allowed you to slip through the door with more ease since the ring was touching you.”

“You don’t keep it to be fashionable?” You mutter back. Hongjoong huffs and slips his arm back into the plastic suit.

“It’s San’s ring, actually. He gave it to me prior to the mission on Kebos. I didn’t think I would need it, but he insisted. Turns out that was a good idea after all.” Even after his hand is covered by the plastic again, Hongjoong won’t quit rubbing at the place where his ring is. The motion is almost obsessive, like he can’t gain peace just from touching it. You blink between his hands and the side of his face several times before pulling yourself free of your thoughts. You drag your tongue over your lower lip in a quick flick.

“Wait a moment, please. I have a question.”

“Again?” Hongjoong retorts. “Walk and talk. Standing around won’t save San.” He heads for the opposite side of the room, leaving the cleaning cart where it stands by your entrance, and you assume he intends to leave it there so you simply follow after him.

“Wooyoung said — he said that San is a ‘special case’. What did he mean by that?”

“Why are you asking me and not him?”

“Because it was about you. That San is a special case to you.”

“Again, Y/N, why do you want to know? What’s the importance of it? You’re awfully nosy when you want to speak.” You ignore the quip in favor of shaking your head. No response comes, and frankly, you aren’t sure what sort of explanation you have for him because it’s simply a flame of curiosity burning in your gut. Hongjoong slaps a hand down against the wall, right over the lighting panel, and the room returns to its previous state of enshrouded darkness. You blink against the sudden change in an attempt to find his figure standing out in the shadows. The only light filtering into the room comes from the door Hongjoong has stopped beside: a small rectangular window tinted almost black cut into the top half of the door sheds just enough light for you to find where Hongjoong is.

“Back on Echidna, you mentioned San being important too,” you continue, finally finding some semblance of an explanation. “I know he’s not a Siren; I’ve seen his back and there are no tattoos there. Even without that though, I’m certain I would have learned by now given how we slept beside each other during that mission.”

“He’s certainly not a Siren,” Hongjoong scoffs in reply. “He’s proved himself to be a Spectre more than once. That’s not up for debate. Nor is it important right now, because I gave you the answer you’re looking for while we were on the elevator. It’s as simple as that.”

“Fine, I’ll change the topic then. What the hell was I supposed to do if Wooyoung did come? Had it just been the two of us then what? Was I supposed to just out myself then and there?” It’s a purely rhetorical question in theory, however, because Wooyoung does know of your identity, and you know of his. As far as you know, Hongjoong is none the wiser to that, so this is also a way for you to weed the information out of him to see what exactly he knows.

“Yes. Yes, the plan was for you to use your Siren abilities in front of Wooyoung. The plan was also relying on your ability to phase through one door without issue. I expected Seonghwa to teach you that by now but apparently the two of you were busy doing… other activities.”

“Bullshit,” you snap back, partially due to your embarrassment at his blatant callout. “That can’t have been your plan!”

“I relied on Seonghwa for part of the planning for this mission. He told me you were able to do that much, that you had done it in the past, and he had seen you use a bit of telekinesis too. Even if I didn’t trust Seonghwa’s word for some odd reason, I would have given Wooyoung the conductor as a last resort. I always have a plan b and a plan c after that.”

Words fail you. As much as you want to call him out, the logic and reasoning are there. The only thing that still nags at the edge of your thoughts on the other hand —

“Why would you have outed me to Wooyoung like that?”

A sigh escapes the captain, and he reaches up to tug his mask down so that it hangs loose about his neck.

“It wasn’t an ideal situation to begin with, but since — since Seonghwa couldn’t in any way go on this mission, it had to be you. The doors aren’t on the same power grid as the surveillance system so Nightingale couldn’t have done it.” Hongjoong hesitates for a breath of air. You see him shift on his heels then step into your space. The light from the door hits the side of his face. It’s an eerie and unsettling sight, to be honest; the only features that truly come through are his eyes and nose. A band of dim light stretches over that top half of his face. Without seeing the rest of him, it’s hard to even recognize him like this. He appears far too delicate and soft to be anything like the man with a broad nose and narrowed eyes on wanted papers all over the galaxy. Somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice pipes up to note that the artist got his nose and eyes wrong.

“Scourge of the Black Sea. What a gaudy name.”

Someone snorts beside you. You twist to glance to your left, finding your companion standing there with his arms crossed over his chest as he examines the bounty paper you just ripped from the wall.

“One day it’ll be our job to kill him,” Jisung mutters under his breath. He doesn’t look at the paper for long — enough to roll his eyes at the almost cartoonish depiction of the criminal on it.

“No, that will be someone else’s job.” You let your arm fall from the wall but can’t quite release the paper from your grip yet. “Besides, it’s all pointless anyway. The military does nothing to scare these citizens. Nothing to encourage them to turn criminals like this man in beyond offering money. Those criminals on the other hand? They earned their reputation somehow and somewhere. People fear them, the sight of their names, and the whispers of their presence. Fear… fear is a god’s most powerful weapon, and this man holds it at his fingertips. Strange, don’t you think?”

“Fear is only useful in corralling believers. Those who choose not to believe — what need do they have in fearing a pretend deity?”

“You’re saying this Scourge isn’t real?”

“I’m saying that once we take down the figurehead king at the top of the pyramid, things will change. We’ll see what good faith and fear do for these people then.”

You glance down at the bounty once more. Then, you take it between your fingers and rip it clean down the middle, straight through the face printed onto it.

A sudden grip on your arm brings you back to the present, tearing you from the hazy memory that now swiftly fades into nothingness before you can try to remember more. You have half a thought that Hongjoong is going to attack you or something similar with the pure fervor in his hold on you. Instead, his gaze remains just as firm as before, but far from cruel or harsh.

“I apologize for making this decision without you and your permission. And I apologize for being harsh with you recently, as well as how I’ve treated you since you joined the crew. I didn’t like the situation we were in at first, couldn’t trust you or your motives, but I know now. I know that I need you as much as any person on the crew. My crew is not complete without you. There is — I put so much faith and trust in Seonghwa, and admittedly some of it is blind and unknowing. I expect him to do anything asked of him, but I realize now that I cannot ask that of him any longer. We have made it this far without revealing his identity to the crew, as well as you for that matter. But now? Given what has happened recently? I cannot ask either of you to hold back in the presence of the crew any longer. If it comes down to life or death, you have to be able to protect yourselves the best ways you know how. And if that includes using whatever abilities you have been granted as Sirens, then so be it.”

“Those ways are unbeknownst to me too,” you snort. It’s too much to consider the gravity behind Hongjoong’s words right now, not when there’s still a mission to accomplish later on. Whatever meaning his words hold — you can think back on it later once San is safe and sound. “Seonghwa hasn’t taught me much. I don’t know anything of what I’m supposed to know. At one point in my life, I had to have been aware of it all, either before joining the military or before Jisung fucked things up in my head. He wouldn’t have needed to keep those memories about Sirens because he didn’t know to look for them.”

Hongjoong’s grip falters. His eyes flash with an emotion akin to shock.

“How can you be certain?”

“I suppose I can’t truly be certain without him telling me directly, but if he knew, why would he purposefully take those memories away? Especially when he could have used me as a weapon with my abilities fully at my hands? As far as… as far as I remember, you are the only person I have told myself. Seonghwa knew long before I said a word.”

“If it means anything to you, you are free to tell whoever you wish on the crew. They’re the ones who stayed with me through a mutiny after all.”

You sink your teeth into your lower lip, mulling over what he’s said for only a few moments, then you offer a small nod.

“As long as it gets to be my own decision, I’m okay with that.”

Hongjoong returns your nod with one of his own as he pulls back to increase the space between your bodies.

“If you wish to learn more about what you are beyond simply talking with Seonghwa — which I highly encourage if that means anything to you — I have plenty of books at my disposal in my quarters. And once this mess is all over, I can put you in contact with a scholar who specializes in the Siren race. He and Seonghwa have spoken many times over the years.”

“You have a contact for everything, huh?”

Hongjoong tries to bite back his laugh but ultimately fails and lets the sound tumble out. The smile that graces his lips is truly a rare sight to see. It’s possibly the first genuine smile you’ve seen from him since telling him of your identity. The gesture falls almost immediately, but just seeing it for the brief time it was there is enough reassurance for you.

“I have wished to forget my past time and time again,” he admits through the quiet of the room. “There are parts of my past I wish to hack off and throw to the dogs if only to spare myself the pain of what I must witness at night in retribution for my crimes. Yet seeing how it affects you and the pain Jisung has subjected you to out of a sick claim of love… I would only wish such a fate on my worst enemies.” There’s a whisper in the silence. You inhale so sharply that your chest aches and burns. “You are not my worst enemy, Y/N. Not by a long shot.” An exhale on your part, but also on his. “I will do my job as a captain to ensure your safety. You know what I ask for in return.”

“G-Good to — to know,” you stutter back as quickly as you can. The tension lingering in your chest is tight, so prominent that it feels like someone has a tight grip over your heart. There are unsaid words as well, things you wish to say but cannot find it in you to vocalize right now. You’re grateful, in a way, to see a tiny shred of humanization from Hongjoong. “If I ask, would you help me find a way to recover those lost memories?”

Hongjoong approaches the door and lays a hand on the latch keeping it shut. He sends a glance back at you over his shoulder, a motion you only catch because of how the light through the door hits the side of his face and reflects off his eyes.

“Prove yourself first.”

The next corridor you step into looks eerily similar to the last, and it’s almost as though you didn’t go anywhere different because of how stark the similarities are. There’s not a guard in sight, thankfully for the two of you. This time, Hongjoong doesn’t stop to check his band; he steps to the right and walks directly down the hall without a breath of hesitation. It leaves you to play catch-up, a little jog to your step as you try to match his quick pace.

If an immediate fight lurking around every corner is what you’re expecting, you receive the opposite in return. Should the two of you get caught off-guard or jumped all of a sudden, you’re in for some trouble because your gun is hidden underneath the plastic suit. This time around, however, there are far more doors lining the hallways. Some have lights brightening their rectangular windows in the doors, but almost all of them are dark with no signs of life in them. As much as you hope to find San in one of the lit rooms, each peek only shows a stranger tied to a metal chair with a blindfold over their eyes. (It doesn’t stop you from checking each and every single one of them, even if Hongjoong keeps his eyes forward).

You lose track of how many turns you’ve made by the time Hongjoong stops you with his arm. With a quick yank, he pulls you back around a corner and up against the wall.

“Guard ahead. Just one. According to our floorplan, there’s a storage closet along each corridor too. Let’s grab him and shove him in there before moving forward.”

“How far to San?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“We’re almost to the rehabilitation sector.”

“We haven’t gotten there yet?” The number of doors behind you is borderline countless, and the ones that were lit were still a significant number even if not the majority. If none of this has been the rehab section, you can’t imagine what they would possibly be.

“No. Now let’s go.”

You follow Hongjoong’s lead, shifting your mask on your face like it will help you quell the surge of panic in your gut. Seeing the guard in question — with his black fatigues and gun slung over his shoulder — turns that panic to adrenaline in a breath. It’s not an immediate attack; Hongjoong ducks his head to his chest and continues walking forward, and for a moment, you think the man is going to let the two of you simply walk past without issue. Then —

“Hey, there were no names on the sign-in sheet for this area today. Where’s your authorization?”

Hongjoong pauses and glances up at the guard with wide eyes. His acting would fool you if you didn’t know better.

“A-Authorization?” He stammers back. He reaches towards his pocket, head twisting a bit more than necessary. You take it as a cue and step to the right just a hair. “Of course, sir, it’s right here.”

Just as Hongjoong pulls his keycard out of the pocket of his suit, he lunges towards the guard with the card extended towards his neck.

Yet somehow he doesn’t move fast enough, and the card glances off the expanse of skin exposed at the man’s neck. It leaves nothing more than a thin scrape. You lurch forward to block an oncoming hit only to be hit by the full force of the guard’s weight. Blood pumps in your ears as they ring with impact. Your vision goes blurry and black for a fraction of a second, and when you recover your senses enough to see again, you find yourself flat on your back under a heavy body that now has hands closing around your neck. Hongjoong is just past the man’s shoulder with his own arm blocking his mouth and airways. Instead of letting up, the grip on your neck only grows tighter, like the guard is pushing every last bit of energy into crushing your throat under his bare hands.

It’s the fear that he might actually succeed, and the fear of failing San that drives your next actions.

You throw a shaky hand up between your body and the enemy’s, fingers scrambling to latch onto something that will help you push his weight off you. In your moment of frantic panic, something else happens. Your hand doesn’t find solid flesh and instead pushes through the wall of skin and bone before you. The first thing you feel is an uncomfortably warm sensation. Then it morphs into a horrible wet and thumping mass under your fingers. Your body moves as though controlled by something else, but you have a sense that Wooyoung has nothing to do with what is going on right now and that he is nowhere to be found in your consciousness. If you could gag, you most certainly would because your hand clenches tight around that throbbing organ until it stops thumping altogether. Only when the grip on your neck loosens enough for you to escape do you pull your appendage free. In between your gasps for air, you heave like vomit is about to come up.

There’s a phantom sensation of a beating heart at your fingertips.

A thud resounds beside you, and you dare to glance over to find Hongjoong dropping the body of the now-dead guard to the floor in equal parts shock and horror. The quickly cooling wet sensation on your hand tells you that indeed just happened; the blood dripping from the plastic is too real to ignore as much as you want to, and you truly just put your hand through a man’s chest like it was child’s play.

“Y-You…” Hongjoong has garnered all the fear in the universe with mere whispers of his reputation as a pirate, and yet looking him in the eye right now is like staring at nothing more than a child who has witnessed the monster under his bed crawling out to daylight. Bile rises in your throat. You never want to see that again. You never want to see terror cross his dark eyes when looking at you again. “You couldn’t have done that with the fucking door earlier?” He manages after a few heaves of breath. It’s evident that isn’t what he originally intended to say. You don’t think you can handle hearing whatever is on his mind at present.

Hongjoong makes quick work of the body, not bothering to get your help and leaving you where you’re still slumped against the wall while he drags the guard to the closet he mentioned previously. You can’t bring yourself to watch the process. As many people as you’ve killed, as much blood is on your hands, as high as your kill count is — you’ve never done something as inhumane as what you just did. It’s not something you imagined being capable of in the slightest. You’ve heard rumors in books and military records about some Sirens being able to do such things; some military plans even called for Siren collection so that they could be used as torturers or weapons with that specific ability. Maybe if you had stayed any longer in the military, that’s what you would have become.

But to hold the weight of a life in your hands so literally is a hefty cost to pay.

That heartbeat is still drumming at your fingertips.

“Y/N.”

Hongjoong shakes you free of your thoughts. His tone is uncharacteristically gentle. You blink forward at him where he now squats in front of you, hand outstretched to your bloodied one. His surgical mask is gone and forgotten, along with the translucent plastic suit that covered his body before.

“We won’t be needing disguises anymore.”

You manage a shaky nod and peel your mask away from the lower half of your face with your clean hand. You don’t grab hold of Hongjoong’s yet, not until you toss the mask to the floor and can freely set your unbloodied hand atop his. He tugs you to your feet, and despite the wobbling of your knees, you stand on your own enough to pull the rest of your disguise away from your body. Your hand underneath the plastic is pristine — clean as ever without a drop of blood on it. Scarlet still flashes across your vision even as Hongjoong takes the remainder of the plastic suit and throws it into the closet as well.

“Y/N,” he repeats. You can meet his eyes. If there’s fear there again, you know you won’t be able to finish this mission as you need to. “I don’t know what the fuck that was, and it’s clear you don’t either, but I need you to forget about it. Put it in the back of your mind right now. Shake it off and don’t think about it.”

“It’s—” you pause to lick over your lips “— it’s fine.” Lie. “I’m fine.” Lie. “I won’t let it bother me.” Lie.

You know it’s an easy façade to see through despite your insistence. Hongjoong doesn’t comment on it and opts for a hasty nod in reply.

“Good, because I think San is not too far ahead.”

There is a certain weight in the air as you begin walking again. While it could be because you’re so close to getting to San, you know that’s not truly the case. Hongjoong finally starts glancing into each of the lit rooms as you pass them. You do the same even as Hongjoong walks by, unable to keep your curiosity at bay. The next guard you come across is much easier to dispose of — well, you don’t actually do anything but stand next to Hongjoong because you sneak up on the one-man patrol from behind this time, which lets the captain knock him out without issue. Hongjoong uses the same method as before and stuffs the body in the nearest storage closet.

Even with your occasional company that could seriously risk the success of this mission, the floor is eerily quiet and undisturbed for a military facility. And given what the guards outside said about the screaming… you half expected to hear such screams resonating off the walls without ceasing. Instead, all you’re met with is the echo of your own footsteps and the hum of the air conditioner.

“Eyes on target,” Hongjoong exhales. You snap your attention forward, thinking he means an enemy ahead at first. But Hongjoong isn’t looking down the hall, and there is no one in sight. “Eyes on San. We found him.”

“No time like the present, Captain.” Yeosang’s sudden intrusion startles the fuck out of you. He’s been so quiet for so long that you honestly forgot he was there, patiently waiting for an update at you and Hongjoong milled about each corridor for what felt like an eternity.

“There’s a doctor in the room with him. Seems to be standing at a counter at the opposite end.” Hongjoong draws back to look at you. “I’m giving you five minutes to get in there and get him out,” he says under his breath. “Kill anyone inside who isn’t San. I’ll guard the door and make sure our exit is clear as best I can. Nightingale, do you have eyes on the emergency elevator?”

“Yes sir,” a garbled voice echoes back. The taunt in his tone is impossible to miss even with the static. “You’ll have a few customers along the way, but nothing you can’t handle.”

“Get him back,” Hongjoong whispers, this time just to you and not with Yeosang or Nightingale listening on the other side.

“Aye Captain,” you reply. Approaching the door doesn’t take more than three steps, and Hongjoong is waiting with his hand on the door panel. You don’t let yourself look through the slot of the window, too afraid of being distracted by whatever sight lies on the other side. All you need to know is that San is inside and your only obstacle is a doctor on the other side of the cell.

The slide of the door is nearly deafening with how loud the whoosh is. You don’t have time to look at San or even blink down at the chair he’s supposedly sitting in; the doctor opposite you spins on her heel upon hearing the door open.

“This is a restricted area. Unauthorized access is strictly prohibited unless with direct orders from—” You cross the room in a record-setting three seconds, dodging the chair in the middle to reach the woman in a pristine white lab coat. Her words fall short when you grip her lapel and yank her forward. You debate saying something — some witty comeback to shut her up further — but it’s pointless in the long run considering what you do next.

It only takes a quick jerk for you to twist her forward and slam her head down against the counter so hard that the impact rattles everything scattered across the surface. Her body doesn’t fall completely limp then though, so you repeat the motion once, twice, then one last time for good measure before she finally slumps to the floor. Either unconscious or dead — you aren’t sure, and you don’t want to stick around long enough to find out. When you turn back around, the door has slid into its original position, leaving you alone with the body on the floor and the man on the chair before you.

It’s almost poetic in a way; the way time feels like it’s screeching to a halt so quickly you forget how breathing works, how heavy your arm feels when you lift it to touch the side of the chair, and the emotion clawing it’s way up to your throat as you finally finally set your gaze upon that familiar side profile.

The blindfold hovering over his eyes does nothing to conceal his identity, although you think you might recognize him anywhere at this point.

You aren’t sure what to do first. Shackles are binding his wrists and ankles to the chair alongside the blindfold, then another thick band of metal strapped over his neck to keep him in place. The locking mechanic is nothing more than a simple latch contraption — obviously, they don’t plan for break-ins or breakouts for that matter.

There’s a lingering burn on the back of your tongue, one that is afraid to pull the blindfold away and see eyes that don’t recognize you. So you get to work on the bindings first and snap each one open starting at his ankles.

San remains deathly still throughout the whole process you can’t figure out whether he’s going to jump you the second you snap the final latch on his neck or merely lie there for an eternity until you do something. Your answer comes soon enough, because the moment you tug that last latch away and free San’s body from the cold metal, he bursts into action with an energy you didn’t know you had. The blindfold keeps him from doing any real damage, but he manages to shove you to the ground and land atop your chest. It fully knocks all the air out of your lungs, and the sound that was meant to be a cry of San’s name only comes out in a huff of oxygen with no intelligible sound in it.

His knee presses into the inside of your bicep on one side. On the other, he uses his right hand to keep you pinned to the floor. (Not that you’re putting up a fight anyway). His free hand stretches upward. You prepare yourself for the painful moment of truth. The black fabric over his face slides down and flutters to the floor. You see his eyelids match the motion as he blinks against the sudden light in his eyes.

And then he sees you.

Perceives you, really.

It’s a calculated gaze for only a fraction of a second, then it blossoms into one of utter shock and surprise.

You brace yourself for the nightmare to become reality.

“Y-You…” His hold on you loosens to a point where it’s near nonexistent.

“H-How do you know my name? Who are you?”

“Tell me this isn’t real. Tell me you’re not truly here and just some hallucination,” San breathes out. His hands tremble — either from exhaustion or true fear you don’t know — as he reaches out for your face. The pads of his fingers are rough against your cheeks. “Of all the tricks you’ve pulled on me… this has to be the cruelest.”

“It’s Y/N, San, don’t you remember me?”

“It’s real. I’m here. I’m real.”

San’s expression falters. His face twitches and contorts, a visual representation of how conflicted his head must be.

“There’s one memory I didn’t let them touch. One thing I refused to let them even glimpse at.” San’s hold on your face tightens a hair. It’s nothing violent or painful, only a touch that seeks to confirm your presence before him. His brows draw together as he squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as possible. It’s almost as though he’s fighting something back, preparing for the worst, or even just trying to hide the emotion in his eyes when he speaks next. “Back on Echidna, during our mission there, what did you tell me at the end of that first night there? Before I first fell asleep?”

It’s a tough question. You don’t have an answer off the top of your head; that mission on Echidna was some time ago now and you haven’t thought about that night in particular in a long while because of how terribly things went afterward.

“When you first fell asleep?” You echo, head tilting a little under San’s hands. “I think… I think I told you to get some rest?”

“And?” He prompts. One eye cracks open to look at you. “Did you stay the first time I fell asleep?”

Ah…

“No, no I — I said I would but then tried to leave.”

“What did you say when you returned?”

That one is much easier to answer. It’s been at the forefront of your mind every time you ponder the topic of staying versus leaving, that lingering conversation with San and what you said to him then. You can’t piece together why it’s so important now but you aren’t about to deny him.

“I told you that I couldn’t leave yet.”

“Yet…” San repeats, tone almost wistful in how breathy it sounds. Two seconds later, he’s leaning off your body, and his hands are sliding down to your shoulders only to pull you up into a kneeling position before him. You blink back in wonder for several seconds. “I couldn’t leave yet either.”

It should sound entirely stupid given the context of the situation, and yet those five words hold more weight than you thought possible. It’s more than just a dumb allusion to what you said before or some cliché one-liner that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. In saying that he couldn’t leave yet, you know what he means because it’s the antithesis to all your nightmares and the thoughts that haunted you the entire trip leading up to this point.

You feared he would readily leave his memories behind even through all your insistence that he could resist it. That lingering terror ate away at your thoughts and heart until you believe it to be true. You wonder if in the short period of time while you were away from him on Echidna, this is what he thought of before hearing those words on your lips.

But then again, it’s more than a matter of leaving the crew or staying to see things through.

San couldn’t leave all the memories of you and the others yet.

The happiness swelling in your chest is hot, a scalding fire that consumes you in mere seconds, or it’s the heat of the arms curling around your waist and tugging you into a warm torso, head tucked into a freckled neck that maps the way home.

“You came for me.”

“I couldn’t leave you alone.”

I won’t leave you alone.  

That sentence doesn’t make it past your throat or onto your lips. You don’t feel that it really needs to anyway.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get to you,” you whisper against the skin of his neck.

“It’s okay. I knew you would find me eventually.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.”

At that, San pulls you back just a bit, hand resting at the base of your skull and tangling his fingers in the hair there. His face won’t come into focus even as you stare directly at him. You don’t realize tears are falling until they drop to your thighs.

“It’s okay,” San whispers. His lips pull into a tight smile, but it holds all the warmth and comfort in the universe. “I wasn’t ready then.”

“A-Are you… are you ready now?” You stammer, almost choking on the words. San stretches his other hand up to brush the tears away from your jawline.

“Are you?”

“Yes, y-yes, I am, I truly am this time.” San tucks you closer to his body; he pulls you forward and props his chin atop your head, hold so tight that you can barely breathe but that hardly matters in the slightest. You squeeze him back like he might disappear if you let go. “I’m sorry I made you wait so long.”

“I would wait a thousand lifetimes if that’s what you asked of me.”

“I won’t ask that of you,” you murmur. A sob threatens to choke you, and you curl your fingers around San’s bicep. “I won’t make you wait for anything from now on.”

“I would gladly do the same for you in return. You know that. You may not believe it quite yet, but I’ll prove it to you as best I can.” If you let go of San now, what would happen? How much time do you have left before Hongjoong busts in? How are you going to get San out of here without trouble? There’s a sense of security in this moment that you don’t want to disrupt, like letting go will only bring reality back down on your shoulders and time will continue to spin on and on around you. If time could wait, you would certainly make it do so. “We can talk more about it later, yeah? When we’re all back safe and sound.”

“Are you hurt anywhere?” You inquire, finally pulling away to look at him properly. His hair is a bit of a mess — out of place and a greasy mat that doesn’t sit flat on his head — and you can’t resist the urge to comb a hand through it even if it does nothing.

“I’m nursing a broken rib that hurts like a bitch, but I’ve had worse,” he huffs out, almost laughing into the statement, and you return it with a smile.

“One brush with death is enough. Let’s not ever do that again.” As you’re speaking, your earpiece crackles to life and Hongjoong’s voice filters over.

“What the hell is taking so long in there? We need to get moving.”

San can’t hear the voice, but he does see the name that flashes over your wristband, and the mere sight of Hongjoong’s name has his eyes lighting up with unrestrained joy. He doesn’t wait a second before reaching for your wrist and pulling your whole arm towards his mouth.

“Hi, Captain.”

“You nee— San.” Hongjoong’s thought dies on his tongue as he processes that it is San talking to him rather than you.

“Don’t sound so excited, I’ll fall over and die,” San bites back, all smiles and joy when he speaks.

“…Right, yeah, I’ll be sure to lecture you first thing when we get back.” Perhaps to anyone else, it would be nothing, but San smiles wider than before like it means everything to him. You don’t hear any gentleness or affection in Hongjoong’s tone; the radio noise crackling alongside his voice doesn’t help in the slightest. San must pick up on something no one else does though because he hums a little and slides his hand up your wrist until your fingers meet.

“Let’s go home,” he says under his breath. Again he sounds a little wistful, mostly tired but also content, and you think it’s entirely unfair of him to be comforting you with such words when he’s the one who has been gone all this time. You’re the first to stand but San doesn’t let go of your hand quite yet, still clinging to you and lacing his fingers through the gaps between yours. When he doesn’t move to get up with you, you blink down with a question on your tongue. He doesn’t let you get the words out; not two seconds later is he pulling your hand closer and laying his lips against the back of your hand.

Some voice in the back of your mind reminds you that it’s the same hand that was buried in a guard’s chest and squeezing around his thumping heart not too long ago.

San doesn’t even know that you did such a thing yet he kisses you so gently and softly. You almost feel as though you don’t deserve such a loving touch from him. The urge to yank your hand away from his is strong, and it’s an impulse you almost follow up on but the warmth of his lips keeps you in place.

How long ago was it that you were running from planet to planet, picking up odd jobs wherever you could just to get by? All with the hopes of lifting some pardon papers for Hyunwoo off a military ship? Back then, home seemed like an impossible dream to achieve, a physical place you could never reach because you neither remembered it nor did you think it could be anything you deserved in the slightest. If it is indeed a place… you still don’t know where it would be for you. You aren’t one to find a home in people after being burned so badly in the past and hurting the ones you thought to be your home then, yet San seems quite certain.

Home.

An odd concept with an even stranger connotation to it. You aren’t ready to face the music yet.

San gets to his feet with a smile painting his lips. You’re still a little dazed and can’t return the gesture, but he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He’s the first to step towards the door, hand finally falling away from your wrist. You don’t voice it right then but you miss the touch the second it leaves you, and that’s a startling realization in and of itself.

Hongjoong stands on the other side of the door when it slides open. He and San merely stare each other down without speaking for what feels like hours, then you see Hongjoong reach out to take one of San’s hands in his own. He presses something down to his palm then draws back with a faint smile.

“Welcome back.”

Right in the center of San’s palm lies that ring from before, the one Hongjoong wore and used to help you get through the door. San closes his fingers around the band.

“Thank you for getting me.”

“It’s not over quite yet. We still have to get out of here in one piece,” you chime in, glancing down the hall past Hongjoong’s shoulder. The captain folds his arms over his chest and gives a sharp nod.

“We certainly can’t leave the way we came in. Blueprints told me that they’ve got a garage full of transport vehicles on Ground Level 1. If we get up there, we can take one of the cars and leave with no issue. They’ll let us right out.”

“What’s the catch?” You ask. It’s either paranoia or pure reason that drives you to ask because you can’t accept that it would be a simple as ‘one, two, three, leave’ without any issue whatsoever.

“The catch? Well, there isn’t one really. Unless you count actually getting up there with a prisoner and no more disguises a catch, in which case I’d say that’s a rather large one.”

San blinks between you and Hongjoong.

“Then we’d best get going, no?” He offers, but there’s a faint flush to his neck that implies that he’s almost embarrassed about the situation. Before you have the chance to ask him anything, Hongjoong takes off without anything more than a quick hand signal. San keeps up rather well with the captain; his injuries don’t seem to be holding him down or back for the time being, although you know from personal experience that moving with a broken rib can be excruciating over prolonged periods of time.

“How many guards should we expect?” You ask, calling forward to Hongjoong from where you bring up the rear.

“No clue! Nightingale is keeping the cameras down for as long as possible so we can reach the elevators.”

“Nightingale?” San echoes. “Nightingale’s here?”

“Not — not physically no, he’s in a remote location at the moment,” Hongjoong explains over his shoulder. “I’ll see if he can drop by the ship before we depart for a quick chat with you.”

So San has history with this Nightingale figure too? For every crumb of information you learn about San, he seems to drop whole pieces of food on your head moments later. There’s no telling how deep it runs exactly, or how much you don’t know yet. Logically, it would make sense for him to feel the same way about you, but if you were to protect your pride, you would merely say that it’s because you cannot recall much of that past. (How much would your pride suffer to admit that the only person holding you back from being open and honest with the people around you is yourself?)

“Look alive! Guard ahead. Don’t let him trigger an alarm,” Hongjoong barks out, reaching out behind his back to touch San’s arm. He pulls the man forward a hair, enough to shroud his body from sight as much as possible even though San’s much broader form still sticks out. You take the opportunity to dart around them in a rush and throw yourself at the guard. You won’t let this one get the upper hand like the last, at least not to a point where you have to stick your hand through a chest again. The man turns at the sound of quickly approaching footsteps and most likely Hongjoong’s hissed order, but it’s not enough time for him to prepare for a fight of any sort.

You swing a leg out with enough force to bring him to his knees, hands scrambling for purchase on his uniform as you throw him face-first into the tiled floor. A crack resounds — his nose most likely — then the thud of his forehead hitting the floor. You don’t take any chances with him though; it takes less than two seconds for you to pull your pistol from its holster and put a bullet in the back of the guard’s head. Once the body under your knee goes still, you flick your gaze up to the pair across from you.

“No time to hide the body,” Hongjoong says, barely making eye contact. He steps around you, but San pauses to help you get back to your feet before following after the captain once more. “From now on, the only goal is to get out with no issues.”

By a stroke of sheer luck, it turns out that the room San was being held in was rather close to the exit elevator. You can’t count on an easy path out, but for the time being, you can at least guarantee one more step to safety. Hongjoong punches one of the buttons on the keypad, doors sliding shut painfully slow before it lurches into motion.

“Short trip up this time. Be ready for a fight. This will take us up to the main corridor on the ground floor, but there’s no telling how many guards will be stationed up there. Watch your backs and corners too; the whole floor branches out into lots of hallways. I’ll get us to the garage if you two just stick close and follow me.” Hongjoong’s foot taps against the metal flooring incessantly. It does nothing but add to the anxiety of the ride upwards. San wets his lips, eyes trailing along the side of the young captain’s face, but he doesn’t speak whatever is on his mind. The urge to reach out and hold onto his hand in some mockery of an attempt at comfort comes over you. You close your fingers tighter around the grip of your gun instead.

You leave the elevator first when the doors slide open, the sole reason being to make sure the path is clear enough for San and Hongjoong behind you. Hongjoong steps out soon after, and he has his own gun out as well, one of the two pistols he keeps strapped to his thighs at all times.

“Clear,” you announce under your breath.

“Take the rear and watch our backs.”

You step to the side to allow San to follow Hongjoong more closely, not moving until you see Hongjoong check the closest set of branching hallways. The whole atmosphere is tense in a way that disturbs you. Normally, this sort of pressure would bring a heightened sense of adrenaline to your veins, yet now it only makes you fear what lurks behind each corner more and more.

“Wide hall ahead. We’ll pause to scope out our surroundings there.” Hongjoong’s order comes out in nothing more than a whisper. You don’t settle yet, not even as he and San press up against the nearest wall and make themselves as flat as possible. The barrel of your gun stays up and at the ready, checking the corridor dead ahead for any signs of movement. Out the corner of your eye, you see Hongjoong lean forward a hair. “Enemy ahead. We’re gonna have to cross his line of sight to get across. Our destination is further along the hall he’s staring straight down.”

“Do you want me to take him out?” You offer, letting your focus fall for half a second.

“Not until we’re clear. If he has backup, it’ll make it harder for us to cross with no issues. You go first, Y/N. Right around that corner, about midway down the corridor, there’s a cart that can provide some cover for you. Get there and keep that guard in your sights. Take a shot if you can, but don’t start firing like crazy because that’ll only draw more attention. The fewer bullets that fly, the greater chance of us getting out without issue. Once you’re clear, I’ll send San down to join you then I’ll follow when it’s safe.”

This is what you’re good at: getting the job done. You may not have your typical sniper rifle on hand, but a short distance shot down a hallway should be child’s play at best.

At Hongjoong’s signal, you round the corner to the right and break into a sprint. As he mentioned, there is a cart off to the left, and you dart for the cover like your life depends on it.

“Hey, you there! Are you alright? Is something chasing you?”

You don’t stop to focus on the voice at all, still running at breakneck speed until you reach the cart.

“What the fuck? Am I seeing shit again?”

There’s just enough of a gap in the metal for you to peek through, and the enemy is much closer than you anticipated. He isn’t moving at least, so you won’t need to worry about that when firing, but even if he were, running straight at you makes for an easy target. It took three seconds for you to cross the corner and reach this point of cover. Surely both Hongjoong and San counted those seconds and measured them themselves. That gives you three seconds to leave cover, aim your gun, and take the enemy down in one shot. He hasn’t pulled his gun up yet; it’s still in his holster, and if you account for a bit of fumble time to get the gun out, you should be set with an easy kill.

When San moves, so do you.

Three seconds to fire.

San is at the corner of your vision.

Three seconds until he's safe.

You cock the hammer back and hone in on your target. One soldier, face shrouded by a mask and helmet, stands at the other end of the corridor.

Two.

Your finger itches on the trigger, begging to pull it, but you need San safe first, you need him to be safe before you fire. If you misfire or cause the soldier to start raining down bullets, it won't be safe for San anymore.

One.

Bang!

Your finger jerks.

It wasn't your shot.

"San!"

It’s not your voice.

It wasn't your shot.

San is no longer on the edge of your peripherals. Hongjoong darts out of his point of cover but it’s too early, San isn’t completely safe yet, he hasn’t finished his path to you.

“Take the fucking shot!” He hisses as he passes into the hall.

Your finger moves on the command, but your brain doesn’t process it in the slightest. The noise rings through the hall, a sharp whizzing before impact is made, then the guard crumbles to the ground with a bullet between his eyes.

“C-Captain, I—”

It’s not your voice.

“Are you hit? Are you hit, San? Where? We need to get you out of here. Can you move? San, can you hear me?” Hongjoong sounds so panicked it startles you. He shouldn’t sound like that. The infamous Scourge of the Black Sea should never sound so afraid. Your arm is still outstretched with pistol in hand like that soldier didn’t fall. Despite every insistence of your mind telling you to move, you feel absolutely paralyzed.

How the fuck did that soldier pull his gun out so quickly?

You had him in your sights, you were ready to fire, it was merely a matter of one second. It was a single second counting down to San’s safety, so why was he not safe in that moment?

“Cap… Hongjoong, Hon-Hongjoong, I—”

Please why is this happening? This wasn’t supposed to happen, this can’t be happening, this was supposed to go right for once. It was supposed to be okay, god fucking damnit.

San doesn’t sound afraid. His voice is wavering and shaky but not because he’s afraid.

“Fucking shit!” Hongjoong exclaims, and you see him hang his head in his hands. It feels so wrong to see him like this. “Is it in your back? I’ll get the bullet out, okay, we just need to get somewhere safe first. Come on, let’s get up. I’ll help you walk, San, let’s go.”

San is crumpled on the ground with his right arm supporting most of his upright weight. If not for the slightly pale sheen to his skin, you would think he’s simply tired. Hongjoong leans closer to hold his face up between his hands.

He’s just tired. It’s okay. He’s okay.

San heaves out a deep breath. Hongjoong is still trying to urge him to his feet. The dread is creeping in, and you lower your arm as that dread drains you of your strength.

“I-I can’t move, Hongjoong,” San exhales. The shock of the impact doesn’t seem to have hit him in full yet. “…I can’t f-feel my legs.”

“Hey, hey, hey, stop that.” Hongjoong grabs his face tighter. “Can’t feel them or move them?”

“M-Move, yeah, sorry, I c-can’t move them. I feel them — god, they fucking h-hurt, Joong.” San’s voice breaks for the first time. His eyes carry a sheen that you truly despise to them.

“Okay, we’re gonna get you out of here, San. I promise. You hear me? I promise,” Hongjoong says with a new resolve creeping into his tone. San huffs out a drained laugh.

“You make a lot of promises to a person who doesn’t deserve it, Hongjoong.”

“I’ll be the one to decide who deserves my promises and who doesn’t,” the captain whispers back before getting back up. “I can’t risk moving the bullet around too much by throwing you over my shoulder or carrying you in my arms. We’ll have to get you on my back for now. Once we’re out, we can see to getting the bullet out but this is not a safe place to do it. I can’t — jostling you too much could severe more nerves, and that’s the last thing I want. Y/N, help get him on my back, then watch our backs for more guards. Yeosang, come in.”

“Here, Captain,” Yeosang answers within a second.

“Get Yunho on the fucking line right now and tell him to make it snappy.”

“Did something happen?”

“San got shot, it’s not pretty, I need Yunho to guide me through getting the bullet out without hurting him more.”

“I — how bad is it, Captain?” Something in Yeosang’s tone shifts. In that brief moment, you hear the panic in his own voice, the wisps of worry curling there in a way that has your own stomach churning.

“It’s bad, Yeosang, just hurry the fuck up and get him on the line!” Hongjoong sounds too frantic for your liking, and San’s body feels far too heavy as you help him settle against Hongjoong’s back. San doesn’t respond as you loop an arm around his back. You can see the blood seeping through his thin tunic like this, the hole in the shirt near his tailbone. It’s so close to where his spine lies — too close for comfort and too close to severing his spinal cord completely. Is this supposed to be considered luck? “Legs, San.”

“C-Can’t, Joong.”

“…Right, sorry, hold on.”

Did you get lucky?

This feels so far from luck that it’s almost laughable.

Hongjoong hooks his hands around the backs of San’s knees then heaves the both of them upwards. Despite his small stature, he’s much stronger than he appears because he doesn’t even flinch under the weight of San’s body around him. San seems more affected by it, in fact, although it’s not in a good way at all because the sound that escapes him is nothing if not horribly pained.

“Hong — Captain?” New voice, Yunho this time, tone laced with no shortage of panic. “Where did he get shot?”

Hongjoong can’t lift his wristband to his lips to respond, however, and he gives you a pointed look around San’s form that tells you more than enough. You bring your wrist to your mouth as the captain begins to lead the way out of the corridor.

“It’s in his back. Lower back, just shy of his tailbone, a little to the left,” you whisper. Your duty is to check for any further guards but you find your stare lingering on that patch of blood and the hole in San’s tunic instead.

“Fuck, can he feel his legs? Move them? How badly are the nerves damaged? Can you tell?”

“I…he can feel his legs, he said. But not move them and they — they hurt badly.”

“Thank god, that’s better than nothing. You guys are too far from the ship though; he’s gonna need immediate help. And I mean professional help, not you fishing the bullet out yourself, Joong. Even the smallest twitch of your fingers could cost him full use and functionality of his legs.”

“Ask him if his contact here is still in business,” Hongjoong hisses to you as you round a corner.

“Hongjoong wants to know if your contact is still here? Still in business, I mean.”

“Who, Hyunjae? He should be, yeah. It doesn’t hurt to check. He’s in Upper Echelon too, so his clinic will be your best bet for now. You still remember where it is, Joong?” Hongjoong gives a series of nods, and you confirm it for Yunho through the comms before turning back to see if anyone is coming in the opposite direction. “I know he must be in a lot of pain right now, but it’s imperative that he doesn’t move around too much. Using any of the muscles in his back is too risky. J-Just be sure he… be sure to keep a close eye on him. Don’t let him stand or sit upright on his own while that bullet is there. If his body pushes it any closer to his spinal cord then — then it’ll be near impossible to get it out without damaging nerves, and I don’t trust anyone but myself to pull an operation like that off.”

Funny how San was the one shot yet you’re the one feeling numb in this very moment.

The fear crawling up your gut is about to eat you alive, a thumping in your veins that you can’t ignore, and the only thing running through your mind is how terribly wrong this turned out right when you thought it was going well.

“Y/N, get this door.” Hongjoong cuts through the thoughts threatening to swallow you whole. He turns his back to the turn when you step closer, eyes immediately flitting towards the hall you were just watching moments ago. That silence from before has returned — the one that made your skin itch and crawl with unease — but you continue with your task until the slide of the door interrupts the quiet.

“Good to go.”

When the captain turns to face you, you catch a glimpse of San’s sweat-slick face and pale skin just past his shoulder.

Should’ve taken the fucking shot. Why didn’t I take the fucking shot? He was safe, why did I not believe he was safe? If anything I —

A hand cups the curve of your jaw, and you startle against the sudden touch as though burned. Hongjoong’s confused expression tells you it wasn’t him who touched you, so your gaze instantly settles on San instead where he stares back with a quivering smile.

“Stop that,” he murmurs, and the words come out a little slurred. You don’t have time to ask what he means by that; Hongjoong pushes into the newly opened room without waiting for you to catch up. The reason for his rush is evident in what awaits you on the other side because the garage, full of rows of military vehicles lining the floor, now lies before you. It only makes the bitterness burning the back of your throat stronger. You were that close to getting away unscathed, that close to safety, and all you had to do was make one shot.

“We’ll set you down in the backseat, San, but you gotta lie face down for the ride. I’ll try to make it a short trip for you.” Hongjoong stops at the nearest car with a clear shot out of the garage. You take it upon yourself to open the doors again; it’s no surprise they’re unlocked since the vehicles are supposed to be safely tucked away in here, but the garage will be a different story no doubt. Moving San into the backseat is a struggle in and of itself because of how afraid both you and Hongjoong are to cause him any more pain or damage to the wound. He’s visibly hurting — muscles in his shoulders and arms tense to the point where it hurts to look at, expression drawn tight as can be, and that bloodstain on the back of his shirt spreading more by the second.

When you pull yourself upright and close the door behind San, you finally notice the tremble in Hongjoong’s hands. He rounds the front of the car, leaving you to take up the passenger seat as he climbs into the driver's.

“Have you ever driven one of these?” You ask to break the tension hanging about the car’s interior.

“Once or twice. Briefly.” Those are the furthest things from words of encouragement. He fiddles with some buttons, pressing them here and there like he’s trying to get a feel of the vehicle. You almost don’t believe he’s gonna pull anything special off in his supposed inexperience, but seconds later the car revs to life, and after another flip of a switch, the garage doors screech open.

Please hang in there, San. Please.

If you close your eyes now, you’re certain you’ll see glimpses of your time on Echidna, or even as far back as your time on Eros and all the failures you suffered there. But the one thing that’s going to be on your mind for the foreseeable future is your delayed shot, the failure that almost cost San his life and possibly the use of his legs, and you aren’t sure how you’re going to come to grips with that. And obviously, San wouldn’t want you to blame yourself for that blunder, but you aren’t San, nor are you as forgiving and gracious as he is because it was your shot to take and miss, but you didn’t even take it until it was too late.

You move to look over your shoulder and into the back seat, but a hand comes up between your line of sight and San’s reclining body. Hongjoong keeps his gaze set on the road before you despite the movement.

“He’s made it through worse,” he mumbles. The fingers gripping the steering wheel tighten a hair. “Let’s not focus too hard on it right now.”

The knot in your stomach refuses to unfurl despite Hongjoong’s reassurance.

...

“Hey bread boy where ya been?”

“Umiko! I’ve missed you too! No bread this time though, Mother and Mama haven’t been working in the bakery these days!”

“You’ve been gone for so long! It’s been so boring around here without you.”

“Ah, Mother has been making me help her with the garden. We’re prepping for winter!”

“What about your papa? Is he back yet?”

“No, he’ll be gone for a while, I think. That’s what Mother said at least. He went to visit Father in the eastern villages.”

“Oh, wow, really? Aren’t they like, super far though?”

“Yeah, about sixteen kilometers to the northeast according to Mother. When he gets back, I’ll get to train some more though! Papa promised to show me some cool new tricks! What about your grandpapa and mama? Are you gonna see them soon?”

“No, my mother doesn’t want me to. She said she wants me to stick around the church. But the priests are so raggedly and cranky! Old stuck-up men!”

“Ha! The Lunar priests are all women! The head priestess always brings me rock candies and plays games with me in her free time!”

“Ugh, my priests are so boring. I don’t see why I can’t have been born a Moonchild like you! All the priests talk about is Sea Goddess this and Sea Goddess that, praise be her name or whatever they say.”

“I don’t know. At least the sea goddess is pretty cool! I’m the child of that ugly red moon up there. Not very fun if you ask me.”

“Yeah, but at least you don’t have to grow up to be a priestess like I do… I don’t see why they don’t give us a choice at least.”

“Umiko!”

“Ugh, it’s time for my classes. They’re gonna make me speak Manko again!”

“Oh come on, Umiko! It’s your first language, shouldn’t it be easy for you?”

“I like normal talk a lot more. It’s easier than all the weird grammar in Manko. That’s all they speak in the Church though so I have to get used to it.”

“Next time you come over, I’ll help you practice! My mama says that I’m getting super good at my words and syllables.”

Throughout your restless sleep, that hazy dream is the only thing you can recall, and even so it was nothing more than raucous conversations around you while you floated atop a lake of black water with a red moon staring down at you from above. Both voices were that of a child’s tone, very young but old enough to speak decently well without stammering through syllables and fumbling with sounds. No faces or clues as to who either child was, although you have a sneaking suspicion that one of them was supposed to be yourself. Whether truly a memory from your child that has been repressed all this time or just an odd message from Daichi himself, you have no way of knowing right now.

“Could do without the weird-ass dreams, Daichi,” you grumble to yourself as you tuck the flimsy cotton towel in your hands further around your body. The steam from your shower is still rising, and you have yet to step out of the porcelain box. It’s still rather early in the morning; you and Hongjoong arrived at the clinic with San late in the afternoon, where the doctor Hyunjae demanded you both stay overnight while he operated on San. You haven’t seen San since he was taken into the back part of the clinic, which had to have been over twelve hours ago by now. A long and silent dinner followed his departure into the operating room, where you and Hongjoong sat across from each other with barely-touched food and no words to share until the young captain bid you goodnight sometime later.

You know you should be counting your blessings right now. You got out of that military base with no interruptions and no trouble, Hongjoong got you all to the clinic in record time with no issues, and the doctor was both present and available to help San at a moment’s notice. The lack of an update from Hyunjae, as well as the lack of anything from Hongjoong about San’s condition, isn’t ideal but at least the situation isn’t dangerous anymore.

And yet… and yet… your heart won’t settle and neither will your nerves.

You yank the shower curtain to the side only to nearly jump out of your skin when you find Hongjoong standing on the other side of the opaque plastic. Your fingers tighten around the towel keeping you mildly decent.

“Um… how long have you been there?” You inquire, eyes blinking like mad as you fight embarrassment in the face of the captain. Hongjoong releases a sigh and glances down at his wristband.

“7.8 seconds. I didn’t think it fit to interrupt before you left yourself.”

“R-Right, sorry, um, can I help you with something? Or are you just here to be a voyeur?”

“If I were a voyeur, I would’ve interrupted,” Hongjoong argues back. He continues speaking before you have the chance to tell him it was merely a joke, and you can’t find the energy to interrupt him in return. “Thought you should know… Seonghwa is almost here. We’re going to go take care of our business here then come back to the clinic after. It could be a short trip or take all day. Either way, it’ll just be you and San here for the time being. Hyunjae and his assistant will look after both of you. And — Seonghwa wishes to talk to you about something before we head out. Join us in the lobby when you’re ready.” Hongjoong doesn’t look at you any longer, turning on his heel to head out of the bathroom, but you call after him to stop him in his tracks.

“Why didn’t you just tell me all that over comms?”

“I would have, had you not taken your earpiece out and left it on your bedside table.”

“A-Ah…” Next thing you know, Hongjoong is out of the tiny bathroom and you’re left alone with your thoughts once again. This time, you don’t stay that way for long; it takes a grand total of three minutes for you to dry off and pull the spare set of clothes Hyunjae set on the counter for you on, and even less time than that to go out to the lobby where Hongjoong is waiting for you. Seonghwa, too, stands in the blindingly white room, standing out dramatically in his all-black garb. He almost looks worse than both you and Hongjoong combined simply because of how stark the dark circles under his eyes are. Hyunjae is there as well, but he blends in much more with his surroundings because of his white pants and shirt that match yours. You make brief eye contact with the doctor upon stepping into the room.

“I’ll leave you three to chat a bit while I go run some vitals on San. Excuse me.”

The doctor disappears in the blink of an eye. Seonghwa twists his neck in your direction, eyes flitting over your face as he bites down hard on his lower lip.

“San is stable. The operation went well, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until he wakes up,” Hongjoong explains while you’re stepping closer to the pair.

“You ripped a man’s heart out?” Seonghwa inquires. He barely lets Hongjoong finish his sentence before he’s cutting in to speak to you, and you’re still processing the news about San when he does. You’ve been in the room for less than a minute and the cat’s already out of the bag — Hongjoong must have told him all about the mission yesterday, including that incident with the first guard you killed.

“Only nearly…”

“Only nearly?!” The scoff that follows is loud and echoes through the almost empty room. Seonghwa pushes his weight back onto his heels. “You aren’t nearly experienced enough to be trying to do things like that.”

“I wasn’t trying to do anything,” you argue. The words come out with more venom than you intended them to, but it emphasizes your point nonetheless. “It was just out of instinct an—”

“Fine then, you aren’t nearly experienced enough to be doing things like that then. It’s — Y/N, I know that look. Don’t misunderstand what I’m saying. It’s not that you aren’t capable or able to; it’s that it’s incredibly dangero—”

“How is it any different than what I was trained to do in the military?”

“I don’t… I don’t think you realize what kind of power you have, Y/N. I thought I knew the extent of it, but to be able to tear a man’s heart out instinctually? Practically on a whim? Can you not see how terrifying such power is uncontrolled?”

“Who says it’s uncontrolled?”

“And who says you have it fully under control?” Seonghwa fires back just as quick. It shuts you right up just as intended, and you snap your jaw shut so hard that your teeth chatter.

“Let’s not argue about this,” Hongjoong cuts in at last. “We can discuss it another time when things are less hectic and tensions aren’t as high.” He places a delicate hand on Seonghwa’s arm, right above where the lieutenant has his fist clenched so tight his knuckles bleed white. “The sooner we go, the better. Now, Y/N, Nightingale is going to be dropping by while we’re gone.”

“What for?” You ask, redirecting your attention to the captain and not sparing Seonghwa any more glances.

“He has some information to discuss with you about your friend in the whorehouse. He did some work on it last night, but he’d like to talk one on one with you before moving further. Hyunjae knows to expect him, so don’t worry about explaining anything to him.”

“Understood, Captain.”

Hongjoong blinks between your averted eyes and Seonghwa’s tensed shoulders one last time, then he steps away from the two of you and heads out the clinic. You expect Seonghwa to follow suit on his heels, but the lieutenant lingers at your side a little longer.

“I’m glad things weren’t worse,” Seonghwa whispers. It’s hardly audible, and at first, you aren’t sure if you heard him correctly because of how quiet he spoke. Then it hits you that of course he would say something like that; he could feel your distress the entire time San was gone, and no doubt feels it right now as well in the wake of San’s injury that happened because of your failure. He must assume you aren’t going to say anything in return, turning around to head out with Hongjoong. You catch hold of his arm before he’s out of your grasp.

“Be careful and safe, please. And… good luck. I hope it goes as well as it can.”

Seonghwa’s lips twitch into the faintest of smiles. He brings a hand up to cover yours on his forearm.

“I’ll return safely to you. Hopefully as a man with… more closure and fewer mommy issues? Whatever the outcome is, I hope to be able to say that upon returning.”

“I’m counting on it, pretty boy.”

“Well now I can’t disappoint you, princess,” Seonghwa returns, a smile stretched to match yours. Your hands fall away from each other at the same time, and there are no more words to exchange that will make what’s about to come any easier for Seonghwa. From now on, it’s in his own hands as well as Hongjoong’s. Though you won’t be there to witness it with your own two eyes, you can only hope that it doesn’t turn out the way your nightmares think it will.

When the door snaps shut behind Seonghwa’s back, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Ahem, Y/N? I hate to interrupt your dramatic moment in the lobby here but—” Hyunjae comes out of nowhere behind your shoulder, nearly causing you to reach for a weapon that isn’t even on your person at the moment (probably a good thing for the young doctor). “—San is up. He was asking after you, but I figured it would be more meaningful for you to go see him yourself?” Your eyes must show how you’re feeling upon hearing those words because Hyunjae matches your happiness with a soft-sided smile. He motions to the back of the room, towards the doors where you last saw San being carted behind, and he doesn’t have to say anything more to get you to follow. “He’s stable and alright for now. I’m confident that he’ll make a good recovery with little to no issues.”

“Are there any concerns about his back?” You ask as you walk side by side with the doctor. It’s his turn to sigh now.

“That remains to be seen. San won’t really answer my questions directly. I was hoping — well, perhaps you could help with that as well? Ideally, I need to know the extent of his nerve damage, although I won’t be able to get him on his feet and trying to walk for a while. And I’m certain Yunho will want him brought back to th ship as soon as he’s physically able. If you could, please ask him how he’s feeling or if there’s any numbness or tingling in his back and legs?”

“Of course, yeah, gladly.”

“Wonderful, thank you. Here’s his door right here.” Hyunjae nods his head towards the space just past your shoulder, and you bring yourself to a quick stop in front of the door he’s pointed out. “You can take your time. Nightingale will be here to chat in a bit, but I’ll send him back then.”

“Alright. Thank you… for taking care of San.”

“There’s no need to thank me. Now go on, I’m sure he’s getting anxious being able to hear you just outside his door.”

For some reason, you’re expecting some strange and large reveal upon stepping into San’s room like he’s going to look drastically different in some way. Reality isn’t like that though. He appears as normal as can be: reclining in a large bed with fluffy white sheets and blankets billowing around him and a pillow propping his head up. He turns the second the door opens, and a smile is already on his lips before he even makes eye contact with you. And again, you expect something more out of this confrontation (even though it’s not even that), but it’s all so radically normal that you feel a bit like you’re floating out of existence when you pull yourself to his bedside. There’s a seat just beside the bed, tucked close to the mattress. It wouldn’t be much of a shock if Hyunjae were to tell you that Hongjoong spent the entire night there only to watch over San while he rested.

San pulls you out of your thoughts as you’re sinking onto the cushion of the seat. He drags a hand over to the edge of the mattress, fingers hanging loosely off. You don’t let them stay alone for long and reach out to clasp your palm over his.

“You know, I hear that mouth-to-mouth contact is proven to help you heal faster,” he says with one dimple pinching a dip in his cheek.

“Did Yunho conduct that study himself?” You jest back if only to conceal the small jump your heart just did in your chest.

“We’ll have to test to and find out ourselves, I think.”

“I’m glad to see you’re well enough to be that flirtatious.”

“Mhm, admittedly, I was hoping to make you loosen up a little.” San squeezes his fingers around the back of your hand. His expression grows a bit more somber in the next few seconds. “I don’t like seeing you sad or upset.”

“I was worried,” you whisper. “Still am honestly.”

“Why? I’m still here, alive, in one piece. Can wiggle all my toes too, so there’s a good sign.” The laugh that follows shakes San’s whole body, and you lean forward as his brows knit together in pain.

“Can you feel everything? Like, no numbness or anything like that?”

“Yeah… yeah, I can feel everything. Fucking hurts like a bitch when the meds wear off but at least I still have sensation everywhere, right?”

Your free hand moves on its own accord, reaching out to brush the clump of bangs sticking to his forehead out of his eyes. It hasn’t been washed still, a messy and greasy mat of hair that desperately needs combing and care, but you don’t imagine he’ll be able to get up and get a shower anytime soon.

“I’ll talk to Hyunjae about getting a basin or a bath of some sort for you so we can wash your hair. I can barely see your white streak anymore.” You drop your touch down to his cheek almost like it’s natural for you to do so. San presses his cheek further into your palm.

“As long as you promise to wash it for me,” he hums in response before letting his lashes flutter shut.

“Are you tired?”

“I think my body is but I’d much rather stay awake and talk to you right now.”

“Cheeky bastard,” you huff through a laugh. San simply nuzzles his face further into your touch with a content little hum. “Actually there was something I wanted to talk to you about.” You had plenty of time to think over a lot of things during your restless night, but there was one thing that kept coming to mind throughout all that thinking. And maybe (just maybe), Hongjoong finally giving you permission to discuss what you are was the harbinger of those initial thoughts, but everything after that came from your own feelings of what you want and need San to know.

“I’m all ears, Y/N. You’ve got me cornered here on this bed… helpless… incapable of escaping… at your gentle mercy whatever you choose to do.”

“Oh shut up, you’re acting like I’m about to kill you. Just — I just wanna talk, that’s all.”

“You can tell me anything, Y/N. I’ll gladly listen to whatever you have to say.” San squeezes your hand a little tighter as you pull the one cupping his face back to your lap. The bundle of nervous energy in your gut has grown in volume. You trust San to not be angered or upset by what you have to say, yet you’ve still only done this once before and been told for so long that this isn’t something you should be doing, so you think it’s understandable anxiety.

“I know that — well, all the records of my bounties have always shown that my class is either unknown or that I’m an Elitist. And when… I first joined the crew, I spoke of being an Elitist too. For a long time, I believed that lying about who and what I am was the best option for me in terms of how best to protect myself.” You pause to gauge San’s reaction thus far only to find him blinking back at you as gentle and caring as ever. Upon your hesitance, he gives a soft-sided smile and a nod of reassurance, and it’s enough for you to continue with a little less worry in your stomach. “Um, I am at a point now where I don’t want to lie to you any longer. There are things that I haven’t been honest about with myself, and I’m only just now coming to terms with those things, yet it also brought on other realizations about how I want to be honest with you as well. I don’t know if or how this might paint your image of me, but I’m not an Elitist. I’m a Siren? Uh, yeah, Hongjoong already knows so it’s not — it’s not something I haven’t told him, but it’s only fair that I tell you too.”

You squeeze your eyes shut if only to protect yourself from having to see San’s expression and what it might hold. The silence that follows is a stiff and tense one for you, shoulders drawn almost all the way up to your ears until San finally responds after what feels like an eternity.

“Thank you for telling me.” If you were more pessimistic, you would swear up and down that he sounds disappointed, but that’s not even close to the truth in the slightest. You can’t read the emotion in his voice one hundred percent accurately, to be honest, although it sounds somewhat positive, so you’ll take that as a win.

“You’re not — are you not surprised or anything?”

San clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth then drags it over his lower lip.

“Honestly… I already knew. Or I suppose I should say that I had some idea of it. I’ve witnessed some crazy things in my life, but I’ll never forget the image of seeing you pull yourself free of your restraints in that warehouse we were trapped in together. I knew it wasn’t a matter of them being loose or you being set free by a third party, and at the time, I boiled it down to being a miracle of fate. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions so I just left it as an inkling of an idea.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” If San has been holding onto that information since then, it’s a wonder he hasn’t even had the slightest slip of the tongue since.

“It wasn’t my place to say anything because you clearly weren’t ready to talk about it with me quite yet. And that’s not something I say out of bitterness or regret; I understand fully what that’s like. You were patient with me, and you’ve continued to be patient when I needed time to process what we went through back then. So I wanted to return the favor in a way. Wait until you told me yourself before cornering you about it.”

“You…” The words die on your tongue. You aren’t even entirely sure what it was you wanted to say in the first place because your brain feels as though it’s been replaced by steel wool and you’re scraping at it with a fork for just one single thought.

“We all want something in life, Y/N. I can’t pretend to know what it is you want at the end of the day, nor can I act like I know what anyone else on the crew wants either. After years of considering what it is I’m after, I thought it to be revenge, and I pictured that being the end of the line for me. That once I got that revenge, it wouldn’t really matter any longer because I could just… die at peace. I’ve seen people be desperate for things — been with Hongjoong long enough to see every up and down in his existence at this point. You were — Y/N, you were the first person I couldn’t see that desperation in. I know you were working for those papers, but you had them in your grasp as it was and it was like you had nothing to care about. The person those pardon papers were for was already gone, and to an outsider looking in like I was, it seemed as though you didn’t know how to grapple with that reality. I cared — care, I care about every member of the crew in ways I can’t put into words, and I love them all even when they get on my nerves or bother me because we’ve been through the worst together. I simply imagined that after my revenge, I would live out the rest of my days with them at peace since I got what I wanted. But finding you, and seeing a fight and a will to survive but nothing to fight for, though it was selfish of me, I wanted to give you something to fight for. I didn’t expect that I would want that thing to be me, but when you saved me on Echidna, I thought that maybe for once I had earned it. That I deserved to be someone worth fighting for, and you gave that to me. It took so long for me to accept that from the rest of the crew, so I was surprised at how easily it came with you. I guess… in a way, everything I’ve done since then has been for you. To help you, to be there for you, to do whatever I could in making a tough existence easier while not pushing too far or hard. I didn’t want to force anything out of you. Like I told you when you decided to reveal what you went through in the military to me, I don’t want you to feel like I expect anything from you. I want you to trust that I’ll wait as long as you need me to. That’s all I ask from you. Who we are and what we are… why should either of those things be important in the face of trust? If I can trust you, and you can trust me in return, shouldn’t we also be able to trust that those things don’t matter?”

Your mouth and throat are dry, although that’s probably because you’re staring down at San with your jaw stuttering over nonexistent words, and again that feeling of steel wool in the brain intensifies to an incredible magnitude.

Who we are and what we are… why should either of those things be important in the face of trust?

“Now I’ve made you cry twice in less than twenty-four hours, I’m starting to believe I’m doing something wrong here,” San says, closing his sentence with a shaky laugh that sounds a bit like he’s about to cry as well. Frankly, it’s another story of you not realizing that you’re crying until he points it out, but you can’t even muster up the strength to move and wipe away the tears. “Y/N… my darling, come here.”

He drops the hand he’s been gripping tightly for the last several minutes now to hold his arms out to you like he’s welcoming you into a hug. Logic tells you that’s hardly possible because you don’t want to put him in any pain by leaning on him, but you do inch forward and let him take your face into his warm and calloused hands. Words are still failing you, your voice refuses to work even to sob, and even with all that, San doesn’t seem to mind. He brushes the pads of his thumbs over your cheeks until every tear is gone from sight, humming a little under his breath all the while to a tune you don’t recognize.

“We’ve all suffered a lot in our lives. I think lots of people would refuse to believe that simply because we’re wanted by the law and considered bad people by the public. And maybe we’ve done things that are… morally ambiguous and grey and that normal people wouldn’t choose to do because it’s a difficult line to draw in the sand. But as far as I’m concerned, we met each other on this side of the line and found each other there. We decide what that means moving forward. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in the universe. Here, with you, with the crew, under Hongjoong’s leadership. I’ll never have a home like this one, so I’m going to cling to it as long as I can.”

If San has more to say, you don’t let him finish the thought because you’re pushing up out of your seat to press further into him as best you can without hurting him. Where words fail, emotion speaks, or so it seems. He meets you partway, sitting up just enough to welcome the kiss you’re aiming for. It’s better than last time, less rushed and chaste and sudden, but you slot your lips against his the same way you did before, hand reaching to secure itself on the side of his neck over that pretty constellation of freckles.

“I think I love you,” you murmur against his lips, sloppy and full of tears and saliva, but San smiles into the touch nonetheless. His nails dig little crescents into your skin where they’re pressed right under your jaw. “Whatever that means and entails.”

“I think I love you too.” His confession comes out in the faintest of whispers, letting them pass right from his lips to yours before he steals the breath right out your lungs with his next kiss. It’s a heady feeling — kissing Choi San — because it’s a taste you don’t think you’ve experienced before. With Seonghwa, things were so full of passion and fire, the heat of bodies against each other while the emotions came much later and in a disastrous way for both of you. San kisses you like you’re a broken mirror, like he’s taking each piece off the floor where you shattered and putting them back into place as best he can. It’s not perfect, but you don’t think it’s meant to be either, and that’s okay too. He pulls back to let you breathe again, bringing air back into your lungs as he smiles wide enough for his dimples to appear. “We can figure out what that means and entails together. We have time.”

✧✧✧ a/n: this was,,,,a long time coming in a lot of ways, and im so sorry for such a large gap between the last chapter and this one. in real life//personal life, i’ve been working on a lot and been very busy which left me with less time and drive to write! but! i finished this chapter after a long time, and it’s extra long just for you guys who have been patient and kind with me during this extended and unexpected break <3 thank you for all the love and support!! let’s get right back into things and right back into the universe of moc together!! i can’t wait for the next <3

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[here4fanfiction]

The Worst Wedding Gift Ever

They feel…something warm…like the sun on a nice spring day, but even that isn’t enough to describe the wonderful feeling. It’s so…fuzzy…loving…caring.

It’s nice.

“Alright, you can open them now.”

Frisk opens their eyes, excited to find out what mystery item their husband has gifted them.

When their mind processes what is before them, their smile fades away. A creeping dread fills them in their place.

What they behold is two, white, inverted hearts hovering gently above their hands.

"This is your wedding gift Frisk, from me,” he motions to himself, “to you,” and back to Frisk.

“What…” Frisk nearly falters at the sight before them, “What is this?”

“These are monster souls,” The King explains, bringing his hands forward to hold Frisk’s, “As for your real question, let me answer it with a refresher lesson, as it has been a while since you were told this. As I am sure the absence of soul-stealing humans with the power of gods can tell you, humans cannot take the souls of humans, only monsters can.

“However,” the King continues, “the reverse is also true to a limited extent. It is significantly harder to have a human absorb a monster soul, as only a specific type of monster has enough power for its soul to persist outside the body before it disintegrates, and only then for a few seconds without my assistance. Fortunately, these two souls belong to the last remaining members of that species. Incredibly rare and incredibly difficult to achieve, their passing now means no other human can ever gain that power. But now that you will soon have them…urahahaha…”

The King leans gently guides Frisk’s arms to their chest, causing the souls to close in as the newlyweds bodies come together. Frisk can feel alien emotions creep into their mind, a mix of fear, worry, love, and concern. It reminds them of when they shared their soul with the King.

The King’s smile widens, a frantic look of excitement is on his face. “Your body will become part monster, granting you access to the boundless magic locked within your human soul. Your will be suffused with so much power you will become immortal. Neither age, nor ailments, nor blades, nor bullets shall ever harm you.”

“Not just that,” the King says. He leans back, and the sensation of others’ emotions blessedly diminishes, only for Frisk’s anxiety to rise when they see the King has brought out two other souls from the palm of his hand: two upright hearts; a blue one complemented by a green one. “Once you have become part monster, you will be able to take human souls as well, of which I have plenty to share.”

The King continues speaking even as Frisk’s mind start ringing from anxiety. They watch as he brings the human souls closer to the monster souls. “For now, however, these two are the most compatible for you. They were specially chosen for being the most docile towards you.”

He gently places the human souls above the monster souls, letting them float in the air. The King continues, “Everything I am capable of, everything I have shown you, and everything you can put to mind and beyond will soon be in your hands.”

They hear a click, and watch in horror as their own soul is brought out before them in a monster encounter, the box floating just between their chest and their hands.

The King’s grin becomes manic as the possibilities play out before him. “You will become a god,” he says as he gently grasps Frisk’s wrists.

“Just,” he brings the arms inwards.

“Like,” he lifts their hands to the encounter box.

“Me,” the souls make contact with their own. There is a flash- ---

* THE KING REGALLED  ∞++ ATK ∞++ DEF * How? HOW? * HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO THEM!? WHY WOULD HE DO THIS TO THEM!? WHY!?

---

* THE MONSTER SOULS  N/A ATK N/A DEF * Mom...Dad... * Why?

---

* THE HUMAN SOULS  ??? ATK ??? DEF * WhereIsOurChild?

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A final form for Asriel Dreemurr giving Frisk their wedding gift prematurely, an event that occurs in my fanfiction, Guardian of the Angel on AO3 in an upcoming chapter.

I don't think it takes a rocket scientist to know what Frisk's reaction will be.

Undertale, including the base drawing for Asriel’s head, front horns, feet, lower hands, and wing structure, belongs to Toby Fox,

Based on a redesign by @theveryconfusedartistsart-blog