#and anxieties and worries and self loathing and self doubt

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

I haven’t said this enough recently but I’d like to take a moment to remind everyone…or idk…whoever sees this post…

That I love Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Thank you.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing a "Self-Conscious" Character

Self-consciousness - a sense of self-awareness heightened to an extreme and problematic degree.

It manifests through a fixation on how other people perceive your looks, personality, and behaviors.

Since you believe everyone has negative thoughts about you, you develop those same thoughts about yourself.

These feelings can easily become overwhelming, leading to a detrimental effect on your quality of life.

Signs of Self-Consciousness

If you feel like everyone dislikes you and mocks your every move, there’s a good chance you’re a self-conscious person. These three signs might help you better determine whether or not you’re self-conscious:

Excessive embarrassment: Perhaps the signature feeling of self-consciousness is embarrassment. In social situations, self-conscious people are prone to think everyone around them views them in a negative light. The embarrassment this causes leads people to experience crushing levels of self-doubt and withdraw from others.

Low self-esteem: If you think you have nothing positive to offer the world, you’re probably very self-conscious. While not all self-conscious thoughts and insecurities are so dire, they all tend in this negative direction. It might take some work, but you can overcome these feelings, build self-confidence, and achieve real happiness.

Social anxiety: Self-conscious patterns of thought often lead people to experience a great deal of social anxiety. They might have an especially hard time being around strangers, coworkers, and acquaintances. In extreme cases, their fear of rejection might even lead them to withdraw from their closest friends and loved ones.

How to Stop Being Self-Conscious

Even if you’re self-conscious now, you can take steps to build your confidence and become more comfortable in social situations. Here are a few tips you can incorporate into your life:

Be kind to yourself. To overcome self-consciousness, turn your feelings of self-loathing into self-love. Rather than engage in self-criticism, work on reciting positive affirmations to yourself. Focus on your strengths and what you have to offer the world. Realize that even perceived weaknesses can become strengths when you utilize them well. It might feel unnatural at first, but self-acceptance can prove to be just as much of a learned behavior as self-consciousness.

Get outside your comfort zone. In the course of your daily life, try to put yourself in situations that make you uncomfortable. Start small and work your way up from there as you begin to step out of your comfort zone. Remind yourself there’s a first time for everything. As you experience self-conscious emotions in these scenarios, you’ll slowly begin to realize they aren’t as bad as you worried they’d be.

Meet with a therapist. Reach out to a licensed therapist to work through how your feelings of self-consciousness developed in the first place. These trained professionals can help you unpack why you feel anxiety in social situations or why your own thoughts can often work against you. They’ll also help you build up your sense of self-worth, leading to an improved state of well-being.

Practice mindfulness. If self-consciousness is a fixation on negative thoughts, mindfulness is the process of letting these thoughts go. When you practice mindfulness meditation in your everyday life, you start to realize your self-conscious thoughts are like storm clouds passing through the sky. The same goes for your emotions. If you let these thoughts and feelings pass through you rather than latch on to them, you’ll begin to view yourself with more objectivity, equanimity, and compassion.

Reframe your thoughts. Your inner critic will make you believe everyone thinks you’re awful and knows every bad thing you’ve ever done. This is an example of the spotlight effect—the belief everyone in a room focuses on you. In reality, many people are probably just as self-conscious as you and are worrying over what you think about them. As you reframe your negative thoughts in a positive way, you’ll bolster your sense of self-worth.

Causes of Self-Consciousness

Self-consciousness arises in people for all sorts of different reasons.

Mental health conditions like depression, anxiety, or OCD might put you at higher risk for developing these feelings about yourself.

Childhood experiences of abandonment, bullying, and rejection can also have a major impact on a person’s self-image or propensity for negative self-talk.

Even into adulthood, negative experiences with others can lead you to develop a poor self-image and an increased sense of self-consciousness.

Source ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

[thestarsarewinning]

so many thoughts after my second viewing of conclave. i cannot even hope to organise them and i fear when i walked out of the cinema with my friend i was even more incoherent

- yes, he is an insufferable and hypocritical fascist but. tedesco and his vape serve so much cunt. critical levels of cunt.

- sister agnes also serves cunt. this is an oversimplification of how her character is used to put a spotlight on the presence of women in the catholic church but. the photocopier scene. her willingness to stand between a scared woman and the most senior cardinal at conclave. the curtsy after she ends a man’s life political aspirations. frankly everything

- forgive me for this comparison but. i feel like cardinal lawrence has the same perception issues as tony stark in the mcu. as the audience, we see the tony stark that is a mess of self loathing, anxiety and other issues that he masks by using ego as a crutch - spider man homecoming shows us the first outside perspective of tony stark as actually cool and suave and together, with no behind the curtain look at the man himself. we know that thomas is on the brink, anxious, screaming in the shower to hold it together. but in one of the first scenes of him among others, as close to an outside pov that we see, he’s joking and confident: the ‘don’t be blasphemous, ray. hell is when the cardinals arrive’ and the comments before tedesco arrives - day one of conclave - and his meetings with vincent - he is successfully coming across as poised, sincere, a firm guiding hand, right up until their third meeting together alone, in vincent’s rooms - this is where an outsider finally sees his facade crack. it’s no wonder his homily is seen by some as a campaign speech because whilst it might be known that he purports to want to resign, thomas likely comes across as far less of a scotch-taped mess of doubts and anxiety

- the scene of bellini being told he doesn’t have the guts to be pope. devastating. if my oldest friend and believer issued me a blow that deep, i would never ever show my face again.

- so much of the behind the scenes knowledge adds to this film. the costume department having to faithfully create vestments but also. improve them - which they fucking do. iconic. thomas’ health issues really shed a different light on the subtle worries about vincent - he tried to resign on health grounds but he’s fine. it was a clinic. a clinic?

- god steering the conclave when the pope’s machinations can’t. the first explosion after adeyemi takes the lead in the voting. the chapel being hit and nearly crushing lawrence when thomas overcorrects. the bird song and breeze; fresh air blowing into the church as the cardinals are called to vote for benitez. god’s presence is felt, and it validates thomas’ actions in steering this conclave and the late pope’s machinations. this is god’s will

- i could easily make a dozen separate posts about thomas and vincent and they’d read like a lot of the other posts already made about these two. vincent can’t get dressed, can’t take the final step until he can be sure that thomas believes in him after knowing the full picture. ‘nevertheless you have it’ - this is a declaration of love. thomas, doubting thomas, and the man who voted for him in every ballot. i will be inconsolable about these two.

- many more thoughts.

[inmyloveworld]

in a world of boys (bradley "rooster" bradshaw x reader)

word count: ~1.5k

synposis: dating was hard. tiptoeing the line between casual and official always had you stumbling. and bradley, in spite of how good he made you feel, was no exception.

warnings: insecurity, allusions to anxiety (spiraling thoughts, disassociating, just a LOT of self-doubt and questioning)

a/n: i have cute fluff ideas i swear! but writing from experience always just gets the words flowing. here's to hoping we all find someone as emotionally mature and empathetic as bradley bradshaw.

bonus note: i looped slut by taylor swift writing a majority of this oops

The words had always come easy to you. Every conversation was effortless, no matter what the context. Quips and jokes flowed through you as the blood flowed through your veins. It never took careful thought or pondering. But pondering was consuming you as your fingers hovered over the letters at the bottom of your screen.

Bradley and you had been seeing each other for nearly two months. Late-night rides in his Bronco and one overnight at your apartment had filled the weeks since you had first bumped into him at the Hard Deck. His charm and humor lit up your days. His heart and warmth soothed you in moments of weakness. And for once, you had opened yourself to all of it; to all of him.

There was no limit to the dishonesty and complacency you'd been shown in your prior dating history. Bradley was neither of these things, as far as you were aware. Yet, the lack of clarity for what he felt was beginning to plant a sick feeling in your gut.

Things were going so well. Never had you felt more assured in someone's affection and interest in you. Never had you felt more cared for and adored. You loathed yourself to think of gambling that for the sake of your security.

Me: Hey.. not to ruin the mood, but I was just wo

Pathetic. Delete.

Me: Is this just a sex thing?

Abrasive. Delete.

You groaned to yourself in frustration. Judging by your history, this would only end one way. Still, you weren't sure how much longer you could bear the fluttering in your chest under the guise of nonchalance.

Me: I really like what's between us right now. But can I ask where you think this is going?

Here we go.

You hit the 'send' arrow before you could think through it for another second. God, why did this have to be so complicated? Were you the source of all the complications, with your need for control to figure out how everything had to go? Was this the reason no one would commit to you in the past? Or was the dating world simply reduced to nothing but souls too fearful to stick it out, for what could be lying ahead of them? Were you settling? Were you making him settle?

Two buzzes of your phone jolted you in your seat.

Flyboy: I think it'd be better to talk about this in person. You up for a drive?

Oh god.

You sent back an answer and ran your hands through your hair. Tears started to prick at your eyes already as a familiar sinking feeling settled in. Quickly, you were trying to soothe yourself with the small comforts of the situation.

His car always felt musty anyway.

You won't have to worry about accidental pregnancy!

It's face-to-face, at least. Maybe you'll get proper closure for once.

A dozen other weightless sentiments were stacked in your head by the time you heard the purr of a familiar engine outside. You drew in a deep breath, collected yourself as much as possible, and swiped up your keys.

Flyboy: Here!

You didn't even open the text thread, opting to keep your head bowed as you locked your front door. Goosebumps rose along your skin as it met the night air. With much effort, you inhaled deeply. Your feet were leaden as you trudged toward the Bronco.

All the darkness swirling in your head gave way to that bright smile Bradley held just for you. Something in your chest twisted sharply at the show of affection. Every moment of this adoration passing was the last, you reminded yourself. This drive would loop you right back to the somber state you were in before the greatest man you'd ever known walked into your life.

"Hey there, angel," he greeted. The rasp in his voice warmed you the same way a glass of whiskey would. Steadily, slowly, and then all at once.

"Hi," you called back as you hopped in the passenger side. You kept your gaze ahead, hands beginning a nervous pattern of threading fingers. Bradley raised a brow at the action but didn't call further attention to it. His eyes hooked to the road as he pulled the pair of you off into the night.

There was almost an ache in the absence of his hand on your thigh. Both of the worthy appendages anchored themselves to the wheel, no yield in their grip.

Safe driving; he's just practicing safe driving. It's a late night, dark even with the street lamps, and the Bronco's headlights didn't match the brightness of modern LEDs.

But perhaps it's the first thing to go. Bradley needed to take the first baby step away from this.. whatever it was. And he was having you take it with him.

Was there something you did? Maybe the night you spent together had been too soon. Or maybe you had been too forthcoming in your own intent, without clarity on his own.

You never let things simmer. You always had to know, that eternal impatience winning out against the chance of a simple slow burn. But maybe this wasn't meant to take that direction; maybe that's not what Bradley wanted.

Would anyone ever want that? Was it just that they didn't want it with you? What was so wrong with you? Were you so horribly broken to everyone else that no relationship could ever be fulfilled? What were you not seeing in yourself?

"Hey, earth to angel." An empty parking lot surrounded you. The sounds of crashing waves and the warm autumn breeze replaced the storm of neverending thoughts ringing in your ears. Bradley had his hand on your arm, the first touch he'd granted you the whole evening, the touch that broke your trance. His brows were furrowed again in concern as he scanned your sorrow-filled face. Not wanting to startle you further, he kept his voice soft. "Talk to me. What's going on in there?"

You took a moment to compose yourself. Your eyes shut as you drew in another deep breath, letting it out with a drop of your shoulders. And then, you told him.

Each one of your fears and anxieties, a summation of how your heart and body were carelessly juggled in the past, how you found yourself at fault in every instance. How even in that moment, when everything seemed to be right with him, something had clearly gone wrong out of your view and it was all about to crash. But it wasn't on him, you insisted. It was on you.

The waves and breeze continued to sound long after your voice faded from the air. Tears pricked at your eyes slowly in sullen acceptance. You had nailed your own coffin shut with this whole conversation. You should have stayed silent. Being lost on your path was better than taking an exit, wasn't it?

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Look at me." Bradley was an emotional man, you had come to learn. He wore his heart out on his sleeve the moment he felt safe enough. So, the absence of emotion from his voice churned your stomach worse than anything else. You met his eyes sheepishly, preparing for a more brutal "break-up" than you originally anticipated.

He sighed, the hand on your arm shifting up to cup your cheek. The touch warmed you and drew the tears from your eyes at once. Droplets rolled down your cheeks in single strands, yet you could not bother yourself with embarrassment. This would be the last he would see of you.

Bradley chuckled. "I did this all wrong, didn't I?"

What was there to laugh about? Had he meant to be more direct in his lack of intent, or in ending things-

"My mom's yelling at me from up there, I know it."

What?

Bewildered was the perfect word for your changed expression. And Bradley now knew better than to let you sit on coded messages.

He took your hands into his, rubbing soft circles along your knuckles as he told you, "I'm serious about this, angel. About us, you. I have been from the get-go."

A flurry of feelings coursed through you. Shock and relief mixed with the confusion still lingering behind in the wake of this confession. It was as if you didn't believe what you were hearing, because part of you really didn't. The part of you that had doubted a silver lining to your history of heartbreak was incapable of believing in a resolution.

You didn't know how to accept it or respond. Excitement was chomping at the bit to break your otherwise unsettled demeanor, but fear still held a tight grip on the reins. "Are.. are you sure?"

Bradley could've laughed again, the question ridiculous in his mind. Being with you was as clear as day to him. The ways in which you eased his soul, sparked life back up amidst his dreary routines, and made him picture a future ahead was something he knew he could not be without. He now realized his failure in communicating as such to the person needing to hear it most.

So he held back the laugh and held your hands instead. "I've never been more sure of anything than I am of you."

tags: @avengersfan25

[sincerely-sofie]

I read your excerpt of calypso and torrent meeting after decades and I love c it. Do you have any more lore for them thst you’ve written

(Referencing this post)

Calypso’s apology was intended to be an open to interpretation— I usually see it as her apologizing for trusting him in the first place, indirectly leading to them both feeling so much pain down the line. But it’s ultimately up to the reader. I wanted the audience to be able to determine different parts of Calypso and Torrent’s story in ways that were relevant to them personally. And Torrent joined Team ACT because it felt like the right thing to do— to help track down the reason the world was ending, even though she was his best friend.

As for additional lore, I’m planning to revamp my Rescue Team storyline with (mostly) new characters, so I can share my original notes for Calypso and Torrent’s storyline!

Behold! The TPiaG Wrap-Up, Part 1: Rescue Team Edition!

Gengar projected his self-loathing onto Calypso after hearing her say she was a former human, assuming she was just as vile as he saw himself, and started spreading rumors that she was the prophesied trigger to the world's end out of a combination of self-preservation and hatred.

Calypso’s partner, Torrent, betrayed her and joined Team ACT in hunting her down after he began to doubt whether or not he could trust someone he met a few short months ago with his life. He was worried about how associating with her would affect his standing amongst important individuals in the Rescue Team field more than he was about how his friend would survive.

Calypso was rescued during the eventual confrontation with Team ACT and Torrent by Ninetales, who chastised them for believing Gengar, a known troublemaker and liar, about something as vital as someone's worth in existing. Torrent was horrified by the realization that he was wrong to betray his partner, and tried to apologize, but Calypso ran off, refusing to hear out his explanations.

The events of Red Rescue Team took place with Calypso largely alone, refused company by those she turned to for assistance like Magnemite and eventually turning down companions like Absol due to her paranoia and anxiety at the thought of being betrayed again.

Calypso never returned to the town where the majority of the game is set.

Calypso learned from Gardevoir that, as a human before entering the world of Pokemon, she had asked for her memories to be erased. Gardevoir implies in her explanation that Calypso seemed less motivated by her supposed reasoning of testing whether she was heroic enough in her core nature by reading her own memories, and she appeared more so relieved by the thought of becoming an amnesiac. Gardevoir speculates that Calypso had something in her past as a human that she was haunted by. Calypso, who learned that cubones and marowaks are not all inherently defined by grief, but have ritualized mourning as a significant part of their culture, realizes that she had (in her own words) significant “mommy issues.” She removes the skull helmet she wears for a final time, abandoning it in a clearing after she wakes up from the dream where she learns of her past.

Calypso overhears through people in a town she's staying in that a nearby Xatu prophesied that the world will be destroyed by a falling star, and countless Pokemon with prophetic abilities confirmed this. She rushes to Sky Tower and fights her way to its top, pleading with Rayquaza to destroy the meteor.

Rayquaza is offended by Calypso's presence in Sky Tower, as he had sworn a Vow with the universe itself to uphold the laws of nature— he would never descend to the ground, just as those bound to the earth would never reach its atmosphere.

Rayquaza, after Calypso pleads with him and stands her ground in a fight with the Lord of the Sky, is finally convinced to destroy the meteorite threatening the world by its arrival. He warns Calypso that Sky Tower would be destroyed by the fallout of the meteorite’s destruction, and she would fall to her death, but Calypso tells him she has one job to do in this world, and she doesn't care what it takes to get it done.

Rayquaza is impressed by Calypso's resolve and destroys the meteorite, causing Sky Tower to dissolve in the resulting shockwave. Calypso plummets to the ground, but is saved from the impact by Rayquaza catching her as she falls, breaking his Vow to never touch the ground in his infinite lifetime.

Despite Rayquaza breaking her fall, Calypso dies as a result of being abruptly pulled out of the drop. Gengar senses her spirit entering the in-between realm between the land of the living and the afterlife, and, under the guise of dragging Calypso to “the dark world” (a nebulous location he made up on the spot to maintain his antagonistic appearance) hauls her spirit back to her body, saving her life.

Calypso evolves into an Alolan Marowak as she takes her first breath after being revived. She is greeted by Rayquaza, who is struggling to fly off after seeing she's alright. He laments that his powers have weakened dramatically as a result of breaking his Vow to never grace the earth with his presence, and he feels as though he's been reduced to the strength of a mortal.

Calypso struggles to pull herself to her feet, ignoring Rayquaza’s melodramatics, and is startled to find that she doesn't look like any pokemon she knows. Rayquaza theorizes that most cubones wear their skull helmets prior to evolution, and it becomes a part of their bodies as they evolve into a marowak. She seems to have evolved into a marowak touched by “the world beyond” on top of her already odd appearance as a result of that peculiar ghost-type dragging her back to her body. Calypso is startled and asks Rayquaza to clarify, and he confirms that Calypso was saved from an early death by Gengar. She's disgusted by this.

Rayquaza is frustrated by his inability to do anything more than hover a short distance above the ground for a brief moment at a time, and complains that he will likely need to regain his power over time as a result of his newfound Oathbreaker status. Calypso begins a journey to look for a place to stay, and Rayquaza follows despite her protests, slithering along the ground like a massive arbok and claiming she's a champion comparable to a Legend and he hopes to learn how to wield a power that even echoes such a stalwart determination.

Years pass. Rayquaza slowly regains a degree of his power, but is still largely comparable to a mortal, and takes up residence on a mountain peak near a town where Calypso settles. Gengar starts tracking Calypso down (and Calypso starts evading all his efforts to find her) in order to apologize and reconcile with her, driven by guilt at his past actions. Torrent joins Team Meanies after Gengar abandons them to search for Calypso, and they become a prominent Rescue Team before eventually comfortably retiring early after a successful career.

Torrent was never the same after betraying Calypso, and became a very solemn, almost depressed character after she ran away while he tried to apologize. He evolved into a feraligatr at an early age due to how he used training as a means to cope with his guilt. He eventually becomes a traveler who drifts between towns, looking for odd jobs to distract himself.

At one point, he encounters a gengar in a small town, the same one who fooled him into believing his old partner was someone he couldn't trust. They briefly catch up as Torrent expresses his anger at Gengar, who asks if Torrent saw “her” in town. When Torrent asks who he means, Gengar falls silent. “Nevermind. It's not my business. Not like it ever was in the first place, come to think of it! Kehehe.”

It's the anniversary of Torrent's betrayal of Calypso, and he stops by a small restaurant to distract himself. It's practically empty, as the Light Festival is going on and literally everyone is out in the streets celebrating. Even so, he sits at the counter and gives his order to a young charcadet waitress who's flurrying back and forth with a speed that doesn't seem to fit such an empty restaurant.

The charcadet asks Torrent if he'd like to meet her mother, the chef, because it's a slow day and her mom always gets really moody around this time of year. Some conversation with a new face would do her good, she thinks. Torrent agrees, and is startled to find that he recognizes the marowak that the charcadet drags by the hand out from the kitchen.

Torrent and Calypso reconcile, and Calypso forgives her ex-partner with a tearful hug.

Calypso's daughter, the charcadet waitress whose name is Cinders, eventually discovers the skull helmet Calypso abandoned in a clearing while their family is traveling on a vacation. She puts it on experimentally and evolves into an armarouge clad in bony armor. She thought her parents would be disappointed in her, as she had hoped to evolve into a ceruledge to match her mother's typing, but Calypso especially was overwhelmed seeing Cinders come back to their campsite with her new look. Torrent was taken aback by how openly emotional Calypso was in that moment, as she's usually very closed off.

Gengar is asked by Torrent to be Cinders’s godfather, Gardevoir eventually befriends Gengar despite her amnesia, Calypso’s restaurant goes on to become a destination for travelers, and Rayquaza holds these foolhardy mortals in his heart for centuries after they’re gone.

The end :>

[straysmuchi]

Escape (+18) 𖦹 Part Two

This short story is intended for a mature audience (+18), and it does not aim to harm the image of any of the idols mentioned. Everything is fiction, created for entertainment purposes.

☣️ Relationships: Hyunjin x Bangchan.

☣️ Genre: Angst, psychological suspense, supernatural, drama.

☣️ Warnings: Amnesia, descriptions of violence, mild to moderate gore (blood, wounds, deformed creatures), guilt and grief, self-loathing, possible loss of identity, anxiety.

𖦹 PART LIST + SYNOPSIS 𖦹

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

Reality distorts when guilt takes hold. To avoid facing the pain, many lock themselves inside their own minds, creating shelters where the crime committed never happened.

But guilt doesn’t disappear; it lives in the heart, silently eating away at it, dragging darkness into the deepest parts of the soul. And when the truth is finally accepted, death stops chasing... though the pain, relentless, remains.

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

Chan sat down next to Hyunjin after making sure there were no mutants in the area. He leaned his back against the cold wall and sighed, watching the boy beside him.

— Are you feeling okay? — he asked, making Hyunjin open his eyes.

— Yeah, I’m just confused… — he looked around. After the encounter, they had gone up three floors, now on the fifth — I don’t understand anything about this so-called virus, I don’t know what those mutants are — he hugged his knees — The only thing I know is that you're an important part of my life, but I can’t fully remember and that makes me sad. Seungmin said we were a couple, but I don’t remember, I don’t remember anything — His voice cracked slightly. He was truly desperate. If Chan was his partner, why couldn’t he remember? Why weren’t there people in the streets? Why? Why? Why?

— Maybe I don’t have the answers to all your questions, but… — Chan pulled out some loose pages — Someone wrote about the virus, but also about their day-to-day life… Do you recognize the handwriting? It mentions the name “Jisung” and also mine — Hyunjin looked closely at the writings, noticing the pages were increasingly stained with moisture and dried blood.

— It’s my handwriting — he said, looking at Chan — Jisung was my best friend and we… — he pointed at Chan and quickly pointed to himself — lived together in a small apartment — he closed his eyes tightly, feeling a slight headache as the image of his friend’s face and some moments with Chan in the apartment flashed through his mind.

Suddenly, that word that had been haunting him appeared again.

“I’m sorry, forgive me for doing it, for having…”

— Hyunjin? — The named boy snapped out of his small trance as he felt a timid hand on his cheek. Chan was kneeling in front of him, worried — I understand you’re frustrated, that you don’t even know who you are, but you don’t have to understand everything right now. We can figure it out step by step… together — They both stayed silent for a long few seconds. On one hand, Hyunjin was carefully watching Chan’s dark eyes, searching for some kind of answer, sinking into the warmth that his understanding gaze gave him. On the other, Chan was observing every detail of Hyunjin’s face, recalling the moments they had spent together in the apartment before everything was forgotten, feeling that protective and loving sensation in his chest.

Hyunjin was the one who broke the comfortable silence surrounding them, leaning toward Chan and joining their lips in a slow, trembling kiss, full of so many unresolved doubts. They pulled apart, looking at each other as they caught their breath. Chan was the one to kiss him again, this time more demanding, more confident, as if one of his many doubts had been answered with that previous kiss. Hyunjin responded after a few seconds, feeling his hands instinctively reaching for Chan’s neck, caressing the hair that slowly fell down the back of it. They pulled apart after a few minutes, both now with flushed cheeks.

— We should… keep going up — Hyunjin said, embarrassed.

— Then let’s go — Chan let out a soft laugh, standing up from the ground and helping the taller one to get up — Oh, before I forget — he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a worn necklace — This is yours — Chan wrapped the necklace around his neck, putting it on him carefully while smiling.

Hyunjin closed his eyes for a moment, making his mind recall one of the many memories from the past he had lived with Chan.

“— This is yours.

— A necklace? Why?

— So you’ll always carry me with you… So you’ll always remember how much I love you and how much I care about you.

— I’ll never forget that.”

— I always knew necklaces looked beautiful on you — Hyunjin smiled, embarrassed by the comment — Shall we go to the sixth floor? — The buzz-cut boy nodded.

They went up the stairs. Hyunjin was in charge of exploring the area while Chan took care of killing the mutants. They always stayed together, protecting each other. They reached the sixth floor after a couple of minutes. The place was dark, abandoned, and filthy. Moisture filled the little uncontaminated oxygen left, and the danger was imminent. Hyunjin walked behind Chan, fearful of the mutants that seemed more intelligent.

— Are we close? — asked the black-haired one, not stopping — There’s too much danger, we’re not safe here.

— It should be right… here — Hyunjin stepped away from Chan to look at the door in front of them.

It was sealed with wooden planks and police tape. The door had no knob and was stained with dried blood and moisture. Next to it, there was a warning written in spray paint.

“DANGER, DO NOT ENTER. EXTREMELY DANGEROUS PATIENT”

A shiver ran down Hyunjin’s spine, feeling a strange pressure in his chest, staring at the door carefully while taking a few steps back, standing beside Chan, who was just as shocked.

— Can you open it?

— I think… — Chan shrugged, walking slowly toward the planks. He raised his weapon and began hitting the worn wood. Hyunjin stepped forward to help him, removing the destroyed material. Then, both pushed the door, opening it after several attempts, coughing due to the disgusting smell and the accumulated dust.

The room was very dark. They could only see a blood-covered stretcher in the distance, illuminated by a small ray of light coming through a poorly sealed window. In silence, they approached the stretcher, finding two stained sheets of paper. Hyunjin took them carefully.

“April 25, 2024

He’s been acting strange, sometimes he yells at me, a while ago he hit me… I don’t understand what’s happening to him. He’s never been like this.

He also has a fever and coughs a lot…”

He moved to the next page.

“May 5, 2024

We went to the hospital. Chan has been feeling really bad since the virus announcement… I’m scared, there’s no cure, and according to the news, the virus is highly contagious and alters people… I don’t know what to do, I don’t know who to call.”

He moved to the last page.

“June 16, 2024

He escaped from the hospital. He told me he didn’t want to be locked up, that they were treating him very badly and wanted to keep him sedated… I don’t want him to suffer, so we ran away, we left the city. We’re in a small apartment, but I guess it’s fine. As long as we’re together, we’ll be okay.

He gave me a silver necklace with the phrase ‘I love you, always together.’ I carry it with me everywhere, somehow it makes me feel safe.

I love Chan so much. He’ll be okay, with the medicine he stole from the hospital, he’ll feel better.”

Hyunjin handed the last page to the black-haired one so he could read it. On impulse, he looked at the necklace Chan had given him hours ago, finding the same phrase written on it. His skin tingled. Was that diary his? He still couldn’t remember anything. He looked at Chan reading the torn page, unconsciously smiling.

“He couldn’t act like that,” he thought, “Am I talking about the same Chan?”

— I don’t… remember any of this — confessed the black-haired one, watching the taller one look away — I woke up in an abandoned house and then walked until I got here.

— Maybe it’s something from the past?

— Maybe, but I would never treat you badly — Hyunjin smiled at his words.

His gaze returned to the stretcher, finding a rusty key with the word “Gallery” engraved on the keychain. There were also some nameless pills. He took both things and put them in his bag, slowly turning around.

— We can go. This place gives me a bad feeling — Chan smiled at him.

They both left the room and, without looking back, ran down the stairs, ignoring the mutants and holding hands while laughing. They got out in less than ten minutes, catching their breath and starting their aimless walk.

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

Night had fallen, and the cold air clung to the trembling bodies of both boys. They hadn’t found a safe place, and the mutants were becoming more aggressive, faster. Chan had gotten hurt a few hours ago, and Hyunjin had only managed to stop the bleeding with a torn piece of his shirt. They were exhausted—Chan walked slower with every step due to his wound and fatigue. Hyunjin too, but his worry for the dark-haired boy outweighed the pain in his own body.

After two hours of walking, they came across an abandoned factory with a small shop nearby. They looked at each other and smiled, sprinting toward the store, leaping over obstacles like boxes and car parts. They slipped in through a broken window, finding the small shop completely empty—except for a mattress behind some dusty shelves. Chan was the first to collapse onto it, smiling at how comfortable it felt.

— Bring me your arm, I need to treat your wound. — Chan opened his eyes lazily and slowly sat up in front of Hyunjin.

— You don’t need to worry…

— Of course I do! —said the shorter-haired boy, carefully unwrapping the improvised bandage and noticing how the dried blood had formed a crust over the wound— This might sting a bit. — He poured some hydrogen peroxide onto a piece of gauze and gently cleaned the wound, wincing at the gasps and groans of pain coming from Chan.

Once he finished cleaning it, he bandaged it up, smiling proudly at his work.

— I should’ve been a doctor.

— Whatever you say, —Chan muttered, laying back down on the mattress— You’d probably cry every time someone came into the ER.

— I would not!

— Or maybe you’d cry with the patients’ families… — Hyunjin climbed onto Chan’s lap and gave him a judgmental look. He grabbed a pillow and hit him with it, making feathers fly all around them.

— Okay! Okay! You’d be a great doctor! — shouted Chan through his laughter.

In a swift move, Chan grabbed Hyunjin by the waist and flipped him underneath him. He leaned in slowly, unsure of what to do next—until he noticed the boy below him part his lips slightly. That was all the confirmation he needed.

They kissed—desperate, slow, full of everything they’d forgotten. A memory flashed in the buzz-cut boy’s mind. Them, in the same position, kissing just as desperately on another bed.

Hyunjin let out a soft moan as Chan’s tongue trailed along his neck, leaving behind a faint mark. Cold hands ran down his abdomen without warning. How could he have forgotten what it felt like to have Chan devour him like this? He was loving every second.

Suddenly, the sound of an old radio made them both turn their heads to the right at the same time.

— Seriously? —Chan sat up, annoyed, looking for the radio as Hyunjin giggled awkwardly and followed the static noise.

— Chan, there's a fish tank! —he called out, pointing at the glass— They're alive! — Chan was surprised to see the fish and the water in such good condition. They both followed the fish with their index fingers, smiling for no real reason.

— Oh, there's the radio — Chan said, walking over to a nearby shelf. He was about to turn it off when Hyunjin approached, and a man's voice suddenly came through.

— The virus has spread across the city — said the man on the radio. — A total quarantine has been declared. Please, if you must leave your home, be cautious. Carriers of the virus are violent… The virus affects the mind and is transmitted through saliva. — The pair looked at each other—clearly a broadcast from the past. — The patient zero has escaped the hospital… His name is… Bang… Bang… Bang… — Chan turned off the radio as it started repeating the name over and over, once again leaving them in silence.

— Wanna pick up where we left off?

— I… want to leave this place. —Hyunjin mumbled. Chan rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed.

— But we were just getting into it. Seriously, you’re gonna leave me hanging like that? — Chan walked over, grabbed the buzz-cut boy by the neck, and licked it slowly. Hyunjin’s legs felt weak, but he gently pushed Chan away.

— Channie, I want to leave, —he said— I don’t feel safe here. That radio…

— Hyunjin, are you stupid? —Chan backed off harshly— That must’ve been an old broadcast. Besides, where else are we gonna go?

— I found a key labeled ‘Gallery’… Maybe we could go to the art gallery near here.

— Finally, something useful from you. — Chan brushed past him and headed back to the mattress, laying down and closing his eyes.

— Let me rest, will you? I do have a wound, remember? We’ll leave when it’s light out.

— Sure… — Hyunjin sat down beside him and pulled out his sketchbook.

“I should draw Felix. I promised him” he thought to himself, grabbing the pencil he used to mark the places they’d been on the map.

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

The couple had left the factory as soon as the sun rose. Mutants kept showing up, and Chan killed them with clear frustration. The air reeked from the pile of mutated corpses littered across the ground. Chan had changed—he was no longer the protective, calm guy. Now he spent his time cursing, yelling at Hyunjin, and being more brutal with the mutants.

As they walked, Hyunjin accidentally tripped and bumped into Chan, making him fall to the ground.

— Channie! —the buzz-cut boy rushed over— I’m sorry… — He reached out a hand to help him up, but Chan slapped it away harshly.

— YOU’RE JUST NOW TAKING RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS?! — he shouted, getting up on his own— YOU’RE A DAMN IDIOT. THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT.

— What…? — Chan just shoved him aside and kept walking, followed by Hyunjin at a distance, head lowered in shame.

A few minutes later, they reached the art gallery.

— You gonna open it or just stand there?

— Sorry. — Hyunjin quickly fumbled with the padlock. It was rusty, but after struggling for a moment, he managed to open the door.

They stepped inside, both looking back when the door shut behind them. Hyunjin began examining the paintings, stopping dead when he saw himself in one of them—writing on the bed from his hazy memories. He walked closer to read the painting’s description.

“Chan’s getting worse. I gave him the meds, tried lowering the fever, but nothing’s working. Today he told me he hates me. Am I really that bad of a boyfriend? His name’s on the news. I’m scared they’ll find us…”

Hyunjin kept walking, reaching the second painting. It showed him in a bathroom, staring into the sink while blood trickled from his lips, staining the ceramic floor.

“I’ve been coughing for days, and I have a fever… Am I infected? I guess it was expected—after all, I live with Chan. I took his meds, but they made me sick. Now I’m coughing up blood. Was the virus that advanced in him?”

He moved on to the next one—it was him again, staring at Chan in front of him. He read the label.

“I HAVE TO DO IT. He’s hit me. He’s screamed at me… For THREE MONTHS I’ve endured this. I can’t take it anymore. He breaks things, curses at me, says he hates me… then apologizes and blames the virus. Says it messes with his head. But I’m fine—even with the dry cough and sore throat—I’m fine. At least I don’t treat him like shit.”

He walked toward the final painting. It showed him sitting on the floor, crying with his knees pulled to his chest. Beside him, a blood-covered knife.

“I KILLED HIM.”

A chill ran down Hyunjin’s spine. He looked around—the gallery was now completely empty. All the paintings were gone… except the one he’d just seen.

— Chan? — he called out — Chan, where are you? This is so weird, I don’t understand anything… — He wandered through the dim light, clutching the necklace he’d worn since the day they met in the hospital. A piece of paper slid across the dusty floor and stopped at his feet. He picked it up and read.

“HE WAS GOING TO KILL ME. IF I DIDN’T DEFEND MYSELF, HE WOULD’VE KILLED ME. I’M SORRY, CHAN, PLEASE FORGIVE ME, I’M SORRY I’M SORRY I DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO NOW???? I KILLED CHAN. I KILLED HIM. CHAN I LOVE YOU COME BACK I MISS YOU I DIDN’T WANT TO DO IT NO NO NO NO NO NO”

Hyunjin shut his eyes tightly as a sharp pain stabbed through his head. He screamed, dropping to his knees, clutching his head. “Did I kill him? That doesn’t make sense. Chan’s always been with me… hasn’t he?”

— Don’t you remember this place? — Hyunjin slowly looked up. — This is where we met. I remember the first time we talked about a painting… I guess the virus ruined everything. Or maybe you ruined everything. — Chan stepped closer, now standing directly in front of him.

— Tell me, Hyunjin —do you think dying will fix everything? That you can just run away from the guilt?

— No… I didn’t kill you, I didn’t…

— I DIDN’T KILL YOU! NO! — Hyunjin shoved him back forcefully, knocking him to the floor. — I DIDN’T DO IT, I DIDN’T KILL YOU! — He began punching Chan’s face, sobbing, screaming, hating himself for hurting his partner. — IF I KILLED YOU, THEN WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!

— YES, YOU DID! — Chan shouted, grabbing Hyunjin and slamming him against the wall near the painting— Don’t you remember? I used to hit you like this. I once smashed a window with your body while beating you. — He slapped Hyunjin across the face, harder this time.

— WE COULD’VE LIVED TOGETHER—IN HIDING—WITH THE VIRUS… BUT YOU WANTED ME DEAD!

— Because all of this… is in your mind. — Hyunjin froze mid-punch.

— What…?

— Hyunjin, accept the truth. — The pain in his head flared again, forcing him to close his eyes.

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

It was a day like any other. Quiet, cold, and desolate. A deadly virus had awakened in the most visited hospital in the country, and shortly after, most of the population was infected. The virus attacks people’s minds—it can isolate them, make them forget, and turn them extremely violent. That was Chan’s case; over time, he became aggressive, too aggressive, and Hyunjin didn’t want to keep enduring the abuse from his boyfriend.

Hyunjin had also been infected, but the virus caused severe memory loss, making him forget many things—but Chan’s blows were always deeply imprinted in his mind.

One day, Chan had a fit of rage. Furious, he silently approached Hyunjin, grabbed his arm, and threw him against the kitchen counter, banging his head twice against it. Hyunjin managed to break free, grabbed a kitchen knife, and stabbed his partner in the abdomen. He pulled it out and stabbed him again—this time with more force—dragging him to the bedroom they shared and stabbing him again, now near the collarbone.

Blood poured out of Chan’s body, soaking the floor with that thick liquid as his eyes slowly lost their shine.

Hyunjin snapped out of his trance, returning to reality and seeing the disaster he had caused. He approached Chan’s body, hugging him, begging him to come back.

— I’m sorry, Channie! — he screamed — Forgive me, please! I didn’t want to do this! Forgive me for killing you, please! — he kissed his bloodied lips, but when he noticed no reaction, he pulled away. His sobs grew louder, desperately trying to find a way to bring him back—but it was impossible.

After hours, he finally calmed down. He acted as if Chan was still alive, as if he was still there. His mind completely shut out the fact that he had killed the love of his life.

After several weeks, he decided to lie on the bed to sleep, hearing in the background the news that Chan was still a fugitive. That day, he fell into a deep sleep.

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

Hyunjin opened his eyes again, feeling a few tears roll down his cheeks. He sat up abruptly from the bed. He was in his house, in his room—he didn’t even know how many days had passed since he decided to dive into his mind that way. He looked around for Chan, and found him—but not in the way he wanted.

Chan’s body was on the floor, decomposing. Hyunjin threw up from the disgusting smell and the painful sight lying at the foot of his bed. He quickly got up and went to the bathroom to wash his face. He looked at his reflection in the dirty mirror, smashing it with a punch. Had he really done it? Had he killed him?

— You did it in self-defense, — Felix’s reflection said — You didn’t mean to, it wasn’t your fault…

— It’s all your fault! — Seungmin’s reflection replied — You killed him, you lived with his body lying there for weeks and then just tried to escape the truth by sleeping… Aren’t you ashamed?

— You really loved Chan, it wasn’t your fault, — Felix added.

— You loved him so much that you killed him… Is that really love? — Seungmin let out a laugh.

— SHUT UP! — Hyunjin yelled again, smashing the mirror further and letting it fall to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces — I need… help. I need to get help. — Hyunjin left the apartment, leaving the front door slightly open.

He went down the abandoned stairs and stopped at the building’s entrance. Was it okay to leave? Chan was beyond saving—after all, he had killed him, and it felt selfish to seek help after committing such a crime. But what could he do? Chan was no longer with him. He had the virus inside his body, and he couldn’t seek a better life knowing what he had done.

He ran through the desolate streets, hugging himself against the cold of the day. His vision blurred, tears streaming violently down his worried face. He didn’t want the virus—he wanted to get rid of the amnesia. He would live with the guilt, but at least he would remember his Channie.

In the distance, he saw some people wearing yellow hazmat suits and gas masks. No words were needed—they rushed toward Hyunjin. Was this his salvation? Would they help him recover his memory? Forget his guilt, no matter how impossible it seemed? Would he be cured of the virus?

Hyunjin asked himself too many questions as he felt a prick in his neck, making his vision blur.

— Hwang Hyunjin, — one of them called — Romantic partner of patient zero, Bang Chan… Where is your boyfriend? — Hyunjin responded with a kick, causing that person’s notebook to fall to the ground — Give him a stronger dose. — Hyunjin tried to break free, biting one of the people beside him, only to feel another prick in his neck.

He started feeling heat rising from his legs to his throat, coughing violently as a desperate pain settled in the center of his head. His vision burned, blood dripped from his nose and the corners of his lips—he wanted to escape that unbearable sensation.

“Is this what Channie felt?” he asked himself internally. Tears returned to his eyes, mixing with the blood on his face as he struck one of the hazmat-covered people.

— I’m sorry, Channie… — he whispered, seeking forgiveness.

Another needle pierced his neck. His vision clouded again, but this time more intensely, until a wave of dizziness made him stagger over the lifeless body of the person who had spoken his name. His vision went black with torturous slowness, and he collapsed on top of the body beneath him.

• ────── ☣️ ────── •

Hyunjin woke up once again in the art gallery. He slowly sat up on the couch he was on, looking around, disoriented. Several people were admiring the paintings, whispering things about them.

— It’s a beautiful painting, — Hyunjin turned quickly, seeing the person standing beside him — It’s about two lovers. One regrets the act he committed, while the other tries to forgive him… Sound familiar? — The man sat next to him, revealing those beautiful dimples in a soft smile.

— Channie… — Hyunjin threw himself into his arms, crying silently — I’m sorry, I’m really sorry… I was so scared, Channie.

— I’m sorry too, Hyun, — the black-haired one said, letting a few tears fall onto his lover’s coat — I didn’t want to hurt you, I was trying to stop myself, but I couldn’t. — He pulled back a little, lifting Hyunjin’s chin with his hand — I’m sorry, Hyun. Please forgive me.

— I forgive you, Channie, — he smiled — I felt the desperation, the need to soothe the pain and the fever’s heat… It wasn’t your fault. I hope you can forgive me too.

— I forgive you, Hyun. — They joined their lips in a slow kiss, somewhat sad, full of regret and guilty tears. When they pulled away, Chan smiled — Shall we go? — he asked, standing up from the couch and extending his hand.

Hyunjin didn’t hesitate. He took his beloved’s hand and, together, they walked out of the art gallery.

— Do you think they’ll be okay? — Seungmin asked, watching the couple leave through the front door.

— Of course they will. They forgave each other, — Felix took a sip from the coffee in his hand — Besides, look what Hyunjin made for us. — The freckled boy pulled out a sheet from the buzzcut’s notebook, showing Seungmin a drawing of him and the blond.

— Oh, how sweet, — he said sarcastically, looking away.

Felix just smiled when he noticed the slight grin on the brunette’s face, and tucked the drawing back into his coat.

[mayuichi]

“Darling, I'm home.„

Kazuha Kaedehara x Reader. Warnings: somehow angst, mention of self harm and suicide

Do not read if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll post more fics in the future without those!

Note: the few next posts will be repost and rework over the fictions i first wrote on wattpad (around a year or two ago), and i felt bad to not bring them here. but i need to rework on some first bc theyre cringe now... and i can only focus on that and not create new one since my health isnt getting any better for now

Official art from Hoyoverse.

It's a bright and sunny day. You're at the Kamisato Estate. You're used to come here now, especially whenever you aren't feeling too well. The scenery is so peaceful it calms even your noisy mind. And today? It's one of these days.

Unfortunately for you, Thoma is away with Ayaka, and Ayato is busy inside. You wouldn't believe the Kamisato siblings would be avalaible for you, after all, would you?

Sitting on the bench, you look up to the sky. You sigh, pulling up your sleeves. When did it all started? And why did you even started it ? Do you remember? All you know is you've done it too much by now. And it isn't the soft cuts anymore.

They're so deep. Even if it ends up healing, if you ever succeed in not opening them again, you'll always have their marks on your arms. But who can you share your burdens to?

Everyone in town loves you, yes, thanks to your business. You're nice and sweet, you wouldn't even hurt a fly. You always seem so confident and sure of yourself. No one could believe you need help.

Whenever you'd see your body, you only feel ugliness. Who wouldn't? It's decorated with scars. On your arms, legs, even on your hips.

Yes, you do have some friends. First, the Kamisato siblings. Even in the nations you already visited. You even managed to have a somehow beginning of friendship with Scaramouche.

So why can't you at least be truly happy? Why can't you be normal once again? Something within you hate to see them hanging together, getting along so well. Is it jealousy perhaps?

“Of course not. I can't be jealous over something so stupid.„ yet, why can't you believe your own words? You sigh. You know since the beginning in what you engaged yourself. She's just your boyfriend's boss. It's thank to her he can live the life he wants and be able to come back every once in a while with you.

Your eyes become teary as the doubts fill your mind. Does he love you? His life is one of sailing, so why did he returned your feelings if he can't be here?

Just this morning, your short blade grazed against your skin, making new scratches. And you just hide them under your sleeves once more. It's time for you to head home.

On your way home, you're lost in your thoughts. Doubts and self loathe fill your mind to the point you don't even notice Ayaka and Thoma coming back from their business. They had to stop you to be able to strike a conversation.

“Oh, dear... Are you alright? You seem pale...„ Ayaka reaches out to brush her fingers against your cheek, her eyes filled with worry. “Oh no.. It's alright. I just need some rest.„ you fake a faint smile.

“If you need, I'm sure my lords wouldn't mind lending you a room for tonight.„ Thoma's gaze softens. He knows that as long as you don't bother neither of them, you would be able to stay. But you dismiss his words. “I appreciate it but... He comes home today..„

You feel your heart pounding at your words. It's true. That's also one of the reason for your emotional distress. After a month, he finally comes back. And your stress couldn't be higher.

Muttering an apology, you hurry home. It isn't luxurious or too spacious, but it's alright. It's more than enough for you.

When you thought your anxiety couldn't become worst, is when it proves you were wrong. You expected him to be already home, but he isn't. You're there, alone. Walking to the calendar, you sigh. “He said he'd come back today...„

You know it's probably just the ship taking more time than what was planned. But your self destructive thoughts never take rest. The voice in your head keeps the same old speech as always. That he's with her, and he's going to leave you.

What could you do now? Beside wait, nothing could be done. Your shoulders dropping in defeat, you silently sit on the couch, staring at the floor.

Three hours passed. Three hours doing nothing more than staring around and overthinking. In the end, you believe he just left without warning you. And just as you're about to give in your despair, you hear a door, and that familiar voice.

“Darling, I'm home.„ you want to get up and jump in his arms, but your body doesn't answer your command. You're so happy he's here, and yet... Tears sting in your eyes. Why are you crying now? He's here, with you. Do you even know if it's tears of joy or not?

His footsteps creep closer, until his head peeks through the doorframe. “Are you home?„ his eyes land on you. He stares at you. Seeing your shoulders shuddering, hearing broken sobs, he's quick to come next to you.

“Love... Are you crying?„ you don't answer. How could you when your voice doesn't want to come out of your throat? He sits down next to you, carefully slipping an arm around your shoulders, his other hand resting on your thigh to caress it in a comforting gesture.

He doesn't pressure you. He knows better than to force you. So he waits until you speak by yourself. “Why... Why am I so hideous..?„ he doesn't say anything. He lets you go on hating yourself for now. He doesn't even know what to do or say exactly, but if just listening can help you, he'd do it.

You rent about everything, not even caring about anything. Your insecurities, your fears, your doubts, even your self harm. He doesn't mention any of that. It's when you finish speaking that he says one thing.

“... Can you let me treat your wounds?„ he doesn't even wait for your answer. He stands up to get some bandages and alcohol to disinfect. You wince at the slight pain, and he tells you to hang in there.

He clearly has no idea how to comfort you, so he then places down the alcohol and bandages, gently wrapping his arms around you.

“I know I sail a lot. That worries you too, but I promise you there isn't a single day I do not think of you. You know that Beidou is nothing more than a friend, and you're the only one in my eyes. I'd never trade you for anyone better, because no one can be better.„

His words make your eyes light up slightly. It's stupid, but just that makes you feel better. Knowing he looks at you so highly. You lean against him, head resting against his chest. His hand caresses your back in gentle stroke.

“As for your... self harm issues. We can work through it together. You can tell me anything, I'd never judge. Just, don't keep it for yourself. You can lean on me whenever you need.„

He chuckles as your eyes stay on him. He kisses your forehead, taking the blanket on the other side of the couch to place it over you.

“You'll get better, and I'll be here along the way for you. We're going to overcome that together. Perhaps I could make you join me for the next sailing with Beidou?„

And just this way, you stayed in his arms for the rest of the evening, and night. What a great way to finish a stressful day.

/ᐠ - ˕ •マ Ⳋ mayuichi's property. do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

[secret-smut-sideblog]

Distances Travelled (Part 3)

18+ SA, trauma responses: nonverbal and freeze, violence, implied trauma, self loathing/doubt, discrimination, softness, hurt/comfort, shared feelings, yearning

Astarion X F! Plus Sized Tav

listening to: We'll Never Have Sex - Leith Ross, To Someone From A Warm Climate - Hozier

(for real this one is heavy so travel lightly)

-

"...Tav?" His voice was hesitant at her back.

A bone deep tremor was running uncontrolled through her. Breath uneven and rasping.

He had never seen her lose composure like this, a quivering mess. It sent a frightened arrow through him.

"I'm okay, I don't-" She tried to wave him away as he hovered over her, uncertain. Her hand trembled. "Dont worry Star. Just.. just give me a moment."

His eyes were unable to not dart to the unconscious bleeding man on the ground.

They had been travelling together for a season now, the heat blessedly giving way to a welcome chill. In that time he had come to be quite fond of her, despite himself.

While yes he had sought out to avoid her, keep his distance, she had over time warmed his glacial waters. He would even still take blood from her but it never felt as uncontrolled as that night. More.. comfortable. Familiar.

Though the memory of that night still.. shook him, it did bring a new development. They had struck up a flirty rapport as that ice had fractured that night as well.

She was still the stalwart figure for the rest of the camp, a pillar of strength and certainty, but she would throw a little wink at him when the others were distracted with bickering. A pinch to his hip as she past, ducking out of reach like a bounding deer when he reached out to retaliate.

They had even begun to compete for the most terribly saccharine pet name, throwing them back and forth to eachother making anyone of their companions in earshot groan. One time she had snuck up on him and threw her shoe at his side, before he could react she was scampering away, the biggest smile splitting her face, her laugh leading him to the chase.

He had come to treasure her laugh, three bright bells. A rare sound. It tumbled out of her loud and always seemed to catch her off guard when it happened. Which often made her laugh harder.

It felt... good. Silly, innocent, like adolescent playing. Something he might have done with a childhood friend when he was still fresh to the world.

Gift after gift she gave him.

In small moments to himself, he still felt an amorous tug towards her. Though it in some way only deepened his fondness. That they could have shared something so primal and still have this brightness.

And, most shocking to himself, he had begun to open up to her. Slowly pulling back the wretched curtain of his past, every admission a fearful prayer for.. what exactly? Acceptance? Forgiveness? He was never sure.

But somehow, miraculously, every piece he gave her she held warm to her chest. Though the revealing filled him with dread it made it feel lighter. It would never stop hurting completely, he knew deep down. But he was grateful for the small relief.

All of this felt terribly new to him, and sometimes the depth of it scared him. A buzzing anxiety starting in the corner of his vision, but then she would find his eyes and in silliness cross them at him and it would dissipate.

On late nights they laid awake talking, both laying flat on their back, their bed rolls parallel. The rest of the camp would have long said their goodnights and it was just them. He lived in those nights, when it was hushed conversations and a perfect solitude. It felt like a precious secret, one he was unwilling to share. A joy would spark when he would hear the fabric of his tent raise, her green eyes asking for entry, dragging her bedroll to lay next to his.

After one particularly painful recounting he felt her hand flutter over his, then pull back, uncertain. She knew now his prickling around touch and it softened him to know that she had considered him.

He reached out for her retreating hand and slid it into his. They lay in comfortable silence like that, their joined hands a single cord, the bugs chirping outside the cocoon of his tent.

When they reached a village in the aftermath of a rather arduous trek, the group decided to treat themselves to some drink and some revelry. Tav had even rented rooms for the night, her treat. It was a much needed reprieve and the party took to it like a house on fire.

Though the night was uproarious, something had come to bother him again.

It was not an uncommon occurrence, the way people reacted to Tav being Drow. Though she did not have the crimson eyes of a Lolth-sworn, many still gave her a wide berth, whispering behind their hands. Occasionally a particularly ignorant twat would approach her and say some insipid, thinly veiled insult. It made Astarion's blood boil but it slid over her like water over a bird's back. She was used to it, she had explained to him, people do not know what they do.

But the other demographic that would approach her was more.. untoward.

The reputation of Drow women made men feel bold to proposition her. Insinuating. Prodding.

She was rather skilled at deflecting these unwanted advances, but he could still see the stiffness in her shoulders, the subtle clench in her jaw.

That night, as their companions let loose, he saw one of these advances from across the room. He felt a pull to intervene, but Tav had always insisted I've got this with her eyes when his would narrow.

They had planned to meet up later as she had some rounds to make, looking for information from the residents.

After a while he lost sight of her stark black hair and the noise and crowd began tiring him, he decided to go on a walk. The night air outside the tavern was crisp and did wonders for his mood. Twirling a coin in his fingers absentmindedly he began his stroll around the property. He didn't get very far until he heard a muffled commotion from an alley. Peeking his head in mischievously he assumed to see a lovers tryst.

What he saw made his blood ice over.

Tav was pressed against the brick of the tavern wall, a tall brute of a man wrestling control with her to pin her there. His lecherous hands reaching for her blouse. She didn't make a sound as he roughly groped her. A darkness, a deadness in her always warm eyes. In a flash the dagger she had hidden on her person sank into him, hard. Enough foresight to go for non-lethal strike, she rode his body down and twisted it, again and again. A unbridled brutality overtaking her, eyes burning with with silent fury.

It all happened so fast neither the man or Astarion had time to react before she had smashed the hilt of her blade against his skull, knocking him out.

He stood in cold shock at the mouth of the alley, her wavering breaths the only sound he could hear. A disgust with himself as his mouth instinctually watered at the blood in the air.

The rage seemed to seep out of her eyes in the silence, still gripping the bloodied blade she slowly doubled over onto herself. What looked like supressed sobs rhythmically shook her frame. Arms wrapping around, gripping her back.

His heart ached as he stepped forward, every part of him wanting to help, wanting to rip that mans waste of a throat out of his worthless body with his fucking teeth, but wretchedly untrained for this he stood in apprehension. This was Tav's territory, he thought selfishly, he didnt know how to console. Well, not in the way she needed.

"Tav?"

She froze. She began wiping her face quickly, her fingers rough. Attempted to rise but her legs seemed to catch, trying again, leaning on her hands. His face crumpled with worry. Rushed forward now, alarmed by how she was immediately putting up a front for him. "...Tav?"

"I'm okay, I don't-" her voice so low almost regained but wavered. "Dont worry Star. Just.. just give me a moment."

The pet name struck through him like a shot, she had never called him that before and the Godsdamned brave face she was putting on for him propelled him forward.

With a thoughtless drive he wrapped his arms around her, catching her under her arms and holding her tightly into him.

Doing for her what he had prayed for so many torturous nights.

He felt her breath catch wet in her throat as he embraced her, arms hovering out, dagger still unconsciously locked into her fist.

Slowly, she released it. Clattering to the cobblestone. Her arms settling limp onto his back, her frame still tremoring with stifled sobs. She laid her head into the crook of his neck, feeling a dampness spread in his collar. She was still so worringly quiet but her shaking had slowed.

"Can you move darling?" She nodded against his ear and he began to help her to her feet. He wanted badly to carry her but didn't know her boundaries in this moment.

She was avoiding his eyes, keeping her face low. A pang of recognition hit him, a mirror of the shame he had learned, had come to know so intimately. Something taught. A wound opened in his chest for her.

As they walked he realized that in all of their talks, all of his revealing of his shadows, she had never really divulged into her past. Sure she had talked about it but made it out to be mostly uninteresting. A childhood, an adolescence, brief talks about the Underdark. Even joking that if they had failed to find a cure for his sun sickness they could share a terrible little corner of a mushroom together down there. She was used to the dark, she winked.

He felt sick with himself, with his failing her. That his inexperience in, well, everything had left him blind to her suffering. Put her in a place where she felt she needed to shield him.

They made slow progress to the rented rooms, passersby's assuming she was intoxicated and being helped up by a friend, paying them no mind.

He closed the door to his room behind them with the back of his heel, leading her in. Unsure where to help her down he decided on the bed. She still hadn't spoken beyond those shaky reassurances and it was scaring him.

Gently he lowered her down and not knowing what else to do, kneeled down in front of her, trying to catch her eyes.

Dark with tear stains, bloodshot, she looked at her limp hands.

"My sweet, please look at me," he whispered, reaching up an uncertain hand to cup her cheek. Seeking out their secret language, things shared between eyes. Hers fluttered close, allowing herself to lean into his palm.

Then finally, blessedly, looked into his eyes. Two deep forest wells of grief met him, tears threatening to spill over the edges.

She took a shaky hiccuping breath in, "I'm sorry, I didnt mean to scare-"

His fingers slid over her mouth, silencing her as gently as he could. How dare she apologize to him, after everything.

He pulled back his digits, realizing that he didn't know if she wanted this touch. Her hand reached behind his neck and pulled him desperate to her.

She pressed her forehead against his and nuzzled down into his neck, he hoped finding solace there. If there were any Gods left worth a damn he was sending every prayer, sending it all to her. She was too good, to kind, too brave. An ever burning light.

Her hand softly traced his face as she pulled away, a small sad smile edging her lips. He stared up at her, at a loss for words again. Admonishing his inability.

"I'll be alright," she whispered to his worried eyes. "Just. Please stay with me, okay?"

He nodded, happy to have her speaking again, to know how to help.

She took his hand and crawled up into the bed, laying on her side. He wrapped himself around her back easily, her body slotting so well into his. The soft smell of jasmine in her hair. The spreading warmth of her skin against his cold body. He melted into her. They lay quiet, just the sound of melded bodies and before he knew it he fell into a deep sleep.

-

His body held hers as she listened to the insect song from the open window. His breath was slow and even, though he didnt need to breathe it seemed his body still remembers the routine of sleep. The sound of it was an anchor, his arm cold water cupping around her, a balm. She laid awake, stifling the treacherous tears that still leaked down the side of her face. Trying to be quiet as not to rouse him from his peace.

Through watery vision she looked at him reverently. The sweet sight of him holding back the nauseating memories threatening to overtake her. He rarely slept, as did she, and it felt like a intimate secret to witness.

Crimson eyes closed, his long lashes kissing his skin. The furrow in his brow relaxed. That pouty mouth she adored slightly open, soft cool air moving in and out like the tide. The way his hair curled perfectly around his ear.

She turned gently under him and with feather light touch tucked it behind his ear, a wet hiccup caught in her chest. He moaned softly and a small smile and a sigh slipped from his sleep.

She realized that she loved him. That she had for a while. It felt bright against her chest. Another tender secret that she coveted.

She pulled herself to him, cradling his long legs under hers. Wrapping his wide back into her chest, snaking her arm under his and pressing her hand soft into his chest. The silken curl of his hair against her nuzzling nose, the heady scent of bergamot and citrus.

His sleeping body moved naturally to this, like it was designed to be held by her. He sighed contentedly in his sleep.

She finally let her tender stinging eyes close, praying to live in this moment for a little longer. That the Gods would allow her the slowing of morning.

~

Part 4

[madllamamomma]

The Visitor~ Part 10!!!

Part 10~

[WARNING: Contains various abuse, blood & slight gore.]

The Fox & The Bear~

As dawn breaks over the city, three friends, Muriel, Asra, and Julian find themselves scrambling to prepare for a half-baked makeshift ritual. Quickly, Muriel summarizes to Asra and Julian what has been happening within the realms of dreams, his father teaching him how to navigate within its confines of it, and the ghostly apparition of Rhemi’s past self that kept haunting her own dreams and how it was her presence that they felt reaching out to them a moments ago.

As time went on, after hours of waiting patiently for Rhemi to wake up on her own, it seemed like she was incapable of it. Even after using smelling salts it seemed useless, it was like she was lost within her own dreams. Perhaps that’s why the ghost of her former self was reaching out to Muriel and Asra with her magic, she had to be asking for help. And it seems like Muriel was the only one who was capable of pulling her out of the dream realm… or at least, he could try. 

—––——––——

“... Do you really have to do this all alone, Muri?” Asra asks with a pleading look as he places a few half shards of broken clear quartz crystals around Rhemi’s shoulders and head. “...What if we just try to use the old spell to make her forget again?” He continues as he places an even smaller one on the center of her forehead where her third eye would be. 

As Muriels collects myrrh and incense, still mostly scattered on the floor, as he purposely keeps his eyes away from his friend refusing to look at his sad face. “...Think that’s not gonna work… Besides, it’d be a disservice to her now… And didn’t she need to be awake for that?” Asra pauses his work for a moment, dropping his shoulders in frustration. Muriel was right, but Asra still loathes the idea that his other best friend could be doing something reckless. Just ignoring his protests, Muriel continues to scrounge for ingredients from the sea of mess that was now the shop after last night. “... Anyways, you should really stay here with Ilyan and Rem. My father said that only Leapers could go into other people’s dreams… Don’t know if–”

“—But do you even know what you are looking for?” Asra interrupts as he stands to his feet staring straight through the mountain man. “... Maybe Rhemi has regained her memories! You said yourself—Before going to the south after Lucio, you barely knew her!! What if she reverted to her old self, and she's unrecognizable to you??” 

A large sigh emanates from his lips as he finally looks him in the eyes, feeling a touch annoyed with his persistence and constant questioning of his understanding of his fiancée. “…That doesn’t—”

“—AND! What if you get lost?” The magician starts to pace behind his tall friend as anxiety courses through his veins. Poor Julian is helpless but to watch his partner panic. “You two were not always close as you are now. And!–…And what if this vision of Rhemi is really just some kind of trap or an evil spirit wanting to trick you??” Ilyan finally reaches out for his partner’s wrist, stopping him from his panicked aimless movements and gently massages his hand to calm him down. He knew how worried he was. Everyone was worried. But you could see how Asra’s heart seemed to physically ache as he placed his other hand on his breast, rubbing his sternum.

The Kokhurian sits there for a moment pondering these questions. Asra was making some good points. Most were really stupid ones, but others were good. As Muriel thought about it more and more, doubt started to creep into his mind. What if he didn’t know Rhemi as well as he thought? What if he did get lost somehow? He wouldn't be stuck per say, he could always wake back up, he always found his way back to his body; that did not concern him whatsoever. However, he did want to find her as swiftly as possible so she’d awaken. With thoughts swirling around in his head, the Hermit exhales hard as he places a stick of lavender incense in its holder. “.... What would you even do if you came?” He finally replies and Asra stiffens for a second, not sure how to answer. “... This isn’t the Arcana Realm, or this world. Even I don’t understand all the rules yet.”

“Well….” Asra pauses for a moment, thinking quickly as he rubs his opposite shoulder sheepishly chewing on his bottom lip. “.... Two sets of eyes are better than one! I can help you look for her. –And! I can reach out to Ilya with my magic if we need to be woken up at any time.”

Muriel shakes his head slowly in silent protest, still not like this idea in the slightest. “Don’t need two people getting stuck there…”, He growls as he lights the incense with a long match.

Clutching the container still, Julian then realizes that perhaps he really could be useful and he sheepishly comes between the two long time friends. “Well…” He starts, and the both stand there quietly, staring at the doctor’s hand for a moment as he holds up the smelling salts container and wiggles it a bit. “I uhhh,.. I could wake you both if need be. No need for any spells or anything like that. Right? Seems simple enough for me to handle.”

The hermit stares hard at the small container in Julian’s long fingers and ponders a bit more and starts to rub the back of his neck. “...And if you fall asleep?” Muriel finally grumbles trying to look annoyed.

Julian stifles a chuckle as best he could showcasing his signature toothy smolder. “This is….ahhh–well… This is not the first time I’ve pulled an all-nighter.” Giving Asra a knowing look and the magician scoffs a bit rolling his eyes. “I’ve worked nearly seven days straight once!”

“He did…” Asra says with a slightly annoyed tone hiding a tiny grin. “... Had put a sleeping potion in his tea to finally get him to sleep…”

The doctor’s smile falls as he looks into his partner’s eyes. “Goddamnit—Knew you lied about that…” he grumbles pouting slightly. “I almost broke the record, ya’ know!”

“... The hell do you mean ‘record'?!” Asra snaps back with a dumbfounded look on his face. “You were becoming delirious, Ilya! I found you at your desk, a filthy mess and sticking leeches to your face because you said, ‘they sucked out all the sleepy!’.. !!” He finishes that last part of the sentence with air quotes.

“You ruined a perfectly good experiment!”

“Experiment?!––” 

Tuning out of the two of them bickering like an old married couple, Muriel thinks hard for a little while longer and they both go back and forwarth with their banter. It's one thing for him to risk going into the dream realm, he’s been there before so many times, it’s another to bring another person in, let alone Asra, one of his dearest friends. There was even a possibility that he could even get stuck there, he wasn’t a Leaper like Muriel. But he did have a strong magical aura. So perhaps he could make it back on his own? If not, surely Muriel could go back and get him if he got stuck… Right? Finally as they grow silent, he looks between the couple, still not exactly sure how he feels about the situation.

Muriel opens his mouth to start saying something, but just before he can, Asra lets out a deep tired sigh, very lightly wraps his hand around Muriel’s thick left wrist with tears in his eyes as he pleads. “Muri…. Please. I…. I should have done more to prevent this. I feel like this is partly my fault, I brought out the portrait–”

Muriel’s eyes soften and he tilts his head sadly. “No… Asra… it’s not–”

“–Please, Muri. Let me help you!... I care about Rhemi too...”

With his brow raised, feeling his heartbleeding for the magician as he finally understood. This wasn’t about him being afraid of him being lost. This is about him feeling guilty in all of this. Asra did everything he could to bring her back. So it makes sense that he was so willing to bring her back now. Muriel cocks back his head and closes his eyes tightly as he breathes hard through his nostrils with a low irritable grumble. Then he rubbed his tired face hard before finally uttering, “....Fine…”. Asra’s eyes light up as his friend begrudgingly agrees as he opens his eyes grouchily and pushes his hair out of his face. “Just... Just stick close… and you are to follow my every word.”

Asra nods his head in agreement, dry his eyes once again, finally feeling relieved. “Of course I will.”

“… Have to come and get you I suppose.” He adds folding his arms and scratching his scruffy neck looking up towards the ceiling, trying to think of a game plan.

“… Umm… yeah, sure—okay.” The white haired magician blinks a few times with a shrug agreeingly not really sure what exactly that meant.

“…. And umm…..” The hermit’s cheeks suddenly turn a bit red as he realizes that he left out a crucial detail and his eyes dart down to the floor. “D-…. Don’tbealarmedthatI’mabear…”

Nothing could be heard inside of the shop other than the ugly old coo-coo clock’s TICK TICK TICKing, making the silence all the more awkward. Asra and Julian gawked at Muriel with rather strange expressions on their faces and he just shrinks even deeper into his shoulders.

“Da– what???” Julian finally sputters out.

——–––—–————————

“…You ready, Muri?” Asra asks his friend, as the two get settled into their hastily crafted makeshift cots from the pillows and bedding from upstairs around the couch next to Rhemi. It seemed to be easier to leap into her dreams if she was right next to him. So maybe it will be the same for Asra, and perhaps this would make it easier to bring Asra into Rhemi’s dreams too.

As Muriel lays his body down, he shifts a pillow or two around to make sure he’s comfortable, not wanting to wake at an inopportune time because of one misplaced pillow. Once he finally was pleased with his positioning, he then looks back towards his friend and nods very seriously, “… Ready.”

The red haired doctor then steps over with his long bird legs, and kindly hands them both a quickly concocted sleeping potion Asra made from the few remains of ingredients that were left on the floor. It doesn’t smell the best, usually there is a flavoring or some kind of flavoring agent to mask the bad taste from the raw ingredients, but this will just have to do.

Before putting his drink to his lips, Asra reaches his cup full of the dubious liquid out toward his friend to gesture a toast and Muriel looks at him with his eyebrow raised. “... To Rhemi?” He says with a wary expression forcing a small hopeful grin, obviously unsure how this all was going to work out.

Julian brings in his cup of a fruity smelling, yet highly caffeinated tea with a hopeful smile. “To our Rhemi-Dear.” 

Muriel’s face then softens and he cracks a small reassuring smile as he lifts his own cup towards his friends and replies, “…To Rem.”

The three ceramic cups meet with a satisfying CLINK before they all shoot their liquids down quickly. Julian sat there happily enjoying the wonderful warm tea, exhaling joyfully after his long sip. However the other two weren’t so lucky. They grimace hard and coughed from the pungent yet overly sweet taste of the elixir. It was disgusting. Asra nearly choked on it and Muriel forced a burp so he didn’t bring it back up again, and both of them stuck out their tongues with a “Blehh”, in unison from disgusting grittiness it left on their teeth.

Disgusting… but hella effective. As soon as the doctor collected their cups back, the two instantly started to feel their eyes and their bodies becoming heavy and tired. The two friends lay their heads down and start to drift to sleep, lulled away by the lavender incense and the myrrh as the potion kicks in. As soon as Muriel shuts his eyes, he starts to feel his hands and feet transforming into claws and feel his body grow larger and being covered in thick fur. The last thing he could hear from the real world was Julian's faint whisper, “Good luck…”

————

Looking around with his emerald eyes, Muriel feels the cold tundra under his paws, realizing he’s in the fields where Rhemi normally met him. ‘Good… it worked…’ he thinks to himself. Knowing what he must do, he dashes over the hillsides not wasting any time. As he seeks out his friend's aura, he starts to smell a familiar scent of sandalwood and lemongrass. Just as he gets over the hill, he then sees that there rests a purple doorway.

Conjuring his magic, he opens it up with ease, hoping that Asra would be waiting just on the other side of it. But he’s somewhat surprised to see the old wharf of Vesuvia. With a sigh, he stepped into the portal warily, everything looked completely different than in his memories, everyone and everything was so loud and busy, people would shove you around, step on your toes, gawk at your towering height, etc. But here things were rather still and bright, the colors were highly saturated as if he was walking into a vivid painting. Oddly, no one seemed to be bothered with his presence, as they calmly walked about somewhat ignoring this massive bear in the middle of town square, which was concerning at first, but he honestly preferred it after a while. If only people were like this in reality… As the bear continues to walk the streets, he starts to wonder if he should even be here. Perhaps it was better to just leave Asra here in the safety of his own dreams, God only knows what he may be bringing him into. But as soon as the idea flickers in his mind, he hears a stir coming from under a small cloth with a few skinny sticks keeping it up. It was a short tent–a very sad, short, little tent. He suddenly remembered that pathetic thing. Asra made it for him and Muriel so many years ago when they lived here on the streets. In fact it was made about a couple of weeks or so after they met, but Muriel quickly outgrew it in a few months after hitting another growth spurt.

With a few large sniffs from his large black nose, the creature under the cloth scurries a bit, and slowly pops out only his brown nose to investigate. The scent of sandalwood and lemongrass filling the air. The bear backs up as he waits for his friend to come out watching as this little orange nose sniffs the air, yet still refuses to come out. Losing his patients, the bear gently rips the cloth off of the skinny sticks revealing a fox with purple eyes and white eyelashes. 

Frozen stiff for a moment out of the shock, the fox’s ears pin back and his fur raised as he backed up carefully, still sniffing the air. With a grumpy sigh, the surly-looking bear plopped to a seat just waiting for the fox to understand that he wasn’t in any danger. Eventually, realizing who this bear was, with its peaceful yet grumpy demeanor, he immediately calmed himself and drew closer and nuzzled up to him a bit.

“Come on…” Muriel instructs, but all that comes out is a low rumbling growl that cracks like distant thunder. The fox tilts his head and makes a few chirping noises in confusion. The bear then huffs again, thinking, ‘Of course he can’t understand me…', he then just points with his nose out the portal, making it more apparent.

All the fox can do in response is to squeak, chirp, and whimper, and is surprised by all the new noises coming from his mouth. But regardless, he follows him closely, and evenly exiting his own dreamscape walking back into the Steppe.

With determination and focus, the two walk out of the field, ignoring all of Muriel’s own dreams and into a gray void solely following the scent of ash and decay. Asra can feel Muriel’s magic as he opens another doorway, this one into a portal with a mixture of burning wood, decaying ash mixed with freshly cut apples, jasmine, and pumpkin bread. The bear looks down to the fox jerking his head towards the opening, gesturing him to jump inside. The fox takes a step back, rearing his behind up for a dismount, then hastily jumps through the doorway without a sound. Happy to see that it worked, he looks back letting out a happy chirp. The bear starts to feel a bit more relaxed, and he finally enters himself. They soon find themselves in another desolate landscape with nothing around by gray and white. 

The two trot onwards still following the scent until they approach a large wall. Muriel recalled encountering a wall such as this one once before with Rhemi at the Steppe when she was having a bad nightmare. The wall was translucent and acted like a force field, it felt like cold stone when touched and on the other side was a set of doors of some kind, just standing there on their own. Two large wooden doors lay on the ground and they were broken and half burnt, looking like something bursted from the inside out. But whatever it was, it didn’t seem to have left much of a trace and the fire damage looked like it was old. Since it was left wide open, you could even see down in the entryway into some kind of hallway, and it seemed to be quite sizable on the inside.

Muriel focuses his energy and magic onto Rhemi’s aura and tries to open the wall up rather than having to muscle his way through like last time. He really didn’t want to wake up for any reason either, and slamming yourself into a wall doesn’t seem the proper way to do that. It took a moment, but finally part of the wall crumpled in and broke open. Luckily, it wasn’t very hard to get open this time. In fact, it even seemed to have welcomed him in, which was relieving yet highly suspicious at the same time. However, the moment after two warily enter, the wall ominously hums before it starts to shift the transparent stones back into their places, mending itself back together asif not wanting anything else to enter. Muriel looks back at the translucent wall squinting his eyes, gazing at it suspiciously not fully knowing what that exactly meant.

As the two trundled on inside, it became rather apparent that this wasn’t like any dreamscape Muriel had ever been to, it was strange even for them. It was reminiscent of how the Arcana realms were, the colors were oversaturated than the normal world, yet at the same time it felt hazy. Looking all around inside, it seemed like they walked into a chateau or manor of some kind, but it was impossibly larger than any mere home. It had boundless doors unlike anything they had ever witnessed. It was much too vast to exist in the real world with its unconventional size, it could probably house three of Nadia’s castles comfortably inside of it. However, it felt more organized in a way, dreams and the Arcana realms both have a sense of randomness and nonsensical fluidity; one minute you're in one place, the next you can be transported somewhere completely different. But this place felt like it was grounded in structure and it was very detailed, but still couldn’t have been real.

As the two animals proceed cautiously, they make their way to the heart of the manor, which could only be described as a large dilapidated grand gathering room or ballroom. Remnants of a large grand piano sat sadly in the corner, a handful of fancy couches with missing legs and chairs with boring colors scattered about, and a heavy oak table rested along the far wall with pieces of dishes and cups scattered about its surface. Above, they saw broken large gothic-style windows above that were impossibly tall and long, housing fractured yet pretty stained glass with various colors. Outside were purpley-red sky with swirling gray clouds accompanied by low howling winds that added a layer of eeriness. Fire must have broken out at one point, it was evident from the charred black burns all on the furniture, the walls, and even parts of the ceiling. Some of the pieces still smoldered and had hot coals that burned. But upon closer inspection, it seems like there are various wild flowers, ivy vines and other pretty greenery that were somehow taking root in some of the ashes, making these ruins oddly beautiful yet still creepy.

The grand ballroom was connected by two long mirroring hallways that had three stories and branching off of them were small wings and corridors like streams to a river. The main set of stairs split into three as they cascade along the sides of the ballroom. The top floors had rickety wooden railings that overlooked down to the bottom floor and on the ceiling above hung the skeletons of what were once fully embellished crystal chandeliers.

Trying his best not to get distracted, Muriel decided to not waste time and started off going to the left and up the staircase to the second floor, sniffing for the other Rhemi’s scent. Asra followed closely, finding himself marveled at this strange manor panning his little neck left and right trying to take it all in. ‘No wonder Rhemi is lost in this dream’, The fox thought.

The wooden floors under the ripped up carpets creaked and groaned with every step as they walked along the corridor. The wallpaper seemed to change colors the further you went, however the floral pattern remained the same dark black damask style. He also couldn't help but notice the various designs, colors, shapes and sizes of doors as they passed them by, no two seemed to be alike. More interestingly, he noticed the ones closer to the grand ballroom were badly burnt and damaged to match the rest of the ballroom. Some of them were burnt beyond any kind of repair with their doors completely being totally eviscerated. Inside their rooms held nothing but the destroyed furniture, ash, and wildflowers. While some doors had varying degrees of damage, others doors were shut up and locked tight, a few even being hastily boarded up with various chains and locks, and even had signs that read, ‘No Pas Entrer’ (Do Not Enter in Charlésian). Most doors however were held with normal locks while a handful were open and left slightly cracked with nothing behind them but empty small, but clean rooms. The further they got away from the more damaged area, it seemed like the doors became more pristine and untouched by the flames. But still, most were locked up tight, and not another soul was in sight. Rhemi had to be here. She must be in one of these rooms… But which one? It didn’t help that her scent seemed to be everywhere in this place.

Undeterred by the challenge, the fox and bear straight away try the handles to the closed doors, attempting to find any that would turn for them. But as they soon discovered, neither had opposable thumbs. With a quick glance to one another, they both think for a moment before getting creative. They pawed, clawed, bit, and even attempted to break down the doors. After a while of futile attempts, a confused Muriel plopped down on his ass and stared at the door he was trying to break. This one was orange and yellow, and despite his immense weight and it being made of just wood, it didn’t budge. But of course they were normal doors, this wasn’t the real world, so physics doesn't work the same way as the real world. Realizing this, he lets out a heartfelt huff as he starts to feel like they’d never succeed. Until…

CLICK!!– the sound startles him as he turns his head toward the fox who was about five doors down. At long last! Somehow Asra gets his teeth around the bronze handle of a sage green door and it opens outwards. 

CREEEEEEEAK—

The door swings open, the pair eagerly ready to see what was hiding behind them. But to their utter surprise, out walks a child in a pink foreign dress was pressed tightly to her chest as if she was holding something behind her small palms. 

Startled at the sudden sight of a living being in this desolate place, the two animals quickly exchange rather bewildered looks, then stare back toward the girl. She shuts the door using her back pressed to the front of the door, wearing a rather blank expression, and they had no time to look to see what was on the other side, but it looked like there was sunlight behind it. Strangely, she didn’t seem surprised nor afraid at the sight of them, not even joyful or well… anything for that matter—just rather indifferent as she stared back expressionless. Upon a closer study of the child, they start to notice that she had brownish-red hair and large burgundy round doe eyes. It's Rhemi!…. Or at least her child self? She must have been no older than ten or eleven. Oddly, she didn’t smell like the one they both knew and loved. She definitely didn’t smell anything like the dead Rhemi who stunk of  burning flesh and ashy decay, so it couldn’t have been that one. This one smells like fresh apple blossoms and jasmine tea like Rhemi always did, and yet, something was off, it was like the scent didn’t quite fit her. It was like a child who doused herself in their mother’s perfume, it was as if it was too mature of a smell for a mere young girl to be wearing. It was also lacking a certain warm undertone that she always had. The part of her scent that reminded Muriel of a warm hearth, and felt like home. But why was that sense of home missing from her?

With her same blank expressionless face, she bravely approaches the two creatures without an ounce of fear in her eyes, still cupping whatever was in her hands tightly to her chest as if she had a secret she wanted to share.

Rather curious, Asra steps closer and sniffs her clenched hands with intrigue. Her gaze drops to him and she kneels down to his level and she starts to reach out her hands towards him. He eagerly awaits for her to reveal what she was hiding and the purple eyed fox brought himself even closer with anticipation. She sluggishly opens her hands, proudly showing him her treasure that clanked behind her palms like small stones; it was about five bloody teeth. She even opens her mouth a bit, displaying that a couple of her teeth on both rows were missing, leaving her gums bloody and red.

The fox’s eyes widen and ears pull back as he steps away with a small foxish ‘eep!’ The bear furrows his brow and his body stiffens in disdain, but he hardly moves. Nearly everyone dreams about their teeth falling out, but it was still rather alarming to see someone’s teeth instead of his own. But he’s seen worse, much worse in fact. However what really drew his attention was something other than the teeth clanking around her little palms. Now that her hands were away from her torso, he saw that there was a gaping hole in the center of her little chest. It wasn’t graphic or horrific or anything, it was just… well, a hole, perfectly spherical, about the size of a coconut or grapefruit, that went straight through her, light even shown through from the other side.

Asra glances his purple fox eyes towards his bear friend not knowing what to do and he can’t help but sit there helplessly shaking his head with a sharp shrug… Was this their Rhemi? Did she somehow revert back to a child? Or was this just another vision? Or a dream version?… If so, what did she want from them?—And where was their Rhemi? –Nothing felt like it made sense. But really, when does it ever really make sense in a dream?

Just as a soft grunt leaves Muriel’s lips wanting to attempt to communicate with her, the girl stands back up to her feet and slightly turns her face away from them. Taking a single tooth and holding it with her thumb and index finger, she blows on it gently and a shiny bubble forms around it, delicately encasing the bloody tooth. It floats in the center and even spins in circles inside of it. Slowly, she let it go and the bubble whisked away down the corridor. One by one she blows the teeth away whimsically, the bubbles gently blowing in their own direction down the hallways and even falling down to the first floor or floating to the third like they all had minds of their own. For a moment the two animalistic apparition’s eyes follow the bubbles as they float away into the distance of this fractured chateau seeing where they’d land. Once they slightly touch any surface, they pop satisfyingly, the tooth vanishing alongside their bubble that encases them. Once the last bubble disappears, the two friends both shake back to their senses, and glance back to where the young Rhemi stood. But she was gone.

Panicked, not wanting to lose her, the two look around ferociously, finally finding the girl sprinting towards what looks to be one of the burnt doors closer to the center of the manor. With a swift wave of her hand, a drearily looking red and purple door unlocks with a satisfying CLUNK and she pulls it wide open making a terrible sounding CREAK resonate from its rusty hinges. For a moment, she stares and waits before calmly stepping inside. Asra and Muriel quickly race towards it before it can close back shut, making the old floor underneath them shake violently; trying to get to it before losing her.

Running full speed into the room and making it just in time before the door swings back shut, they find themselves swallowed in a dark void with a single spotlight with the room mostly filled with smoke and smelled of a smoldering fire. Under the spotlight was the young Rhemi as she sat on the floor with her hands holding her little face. However, as they looked closer yet again, the hole in her chest was gone, and she had a completely different outfit and she seemed to be even younger than ever before, maybe seven or eight. Her front teeth were missing and she was wearing a doll-like dress that was white. And a beautiful woman with dirty blonde hair in a stylish updo and in a fancy blue satin dress sat by her and clasped her shoulder, worry painted on her face. Muriel lets out a grunt as he recognizes the woman from the portrait from dinner the night before. This was Florence, Rhemi’s mother. 

Muriel steps closer mumbling Rhemi’s name just for it to come out as grunts and growls, forgetting again that she couldn’t understand him. But as he approaches the two under the spotlight, he feels a strong magnetic force push him away. Taken by surprise, he tries a few more times to muscle his way toward them, but the spotlight seems to act like a strong force field, pushing outsiders away. He stops and sniffs the barrier to investigate and he soon realizes that there was no scent, nor a magical aura like the young Rhemi with the hole in her chest had. There was nothing but the smell of smoke that enveloped the room. We’re these just illusions? No… there would be a scent from magic… So what is this then?

He then takes a seat as he tilts his head staring at the younger Rhemi as she sits on the floor with her mother and he feels his chest becoming increasingly heavy as she lets out a painful whine.

“…It… It stings!! Ahhh—it… it hurts!!” She starts blinking rapidly at first, but then her eyelids start to swell closed and her face becomes feverish and hot. “…My—my eyes don’t work!! Mummmy!!!”, she starts to scream with such sheer panic in her voice as she rubs her eyes harder with one hand, blinding searching for her mother with the other.

Fear fully sets in as Florence clutches Rhemi to her breast pulling her hand away from her face. “Huush!! Shhhh!.. Rhemielia, Sweetie. I-It’s alright, baby. I'm here! Mummy’s here… J-just try and bear it a little longer… the spell shouldn't take—”  

“—OOWW!!!! MUMMY!! IT BURNS!!! PLEASE!! MAKE IT STOP!! IT HURTS!! MY EYES HURT!!” She suddenly starts to wriggle about clearly in an immense amount of pain while tears pepper the floor and she starts to kick her little feet and scream.

Sad whimpers spill out of the bear’s throat as he places his large paw on the barrier wanting nothing else but to comfort the little Rhemi as she desperately shrieks in pain. What was even happening to her? Why was she in such pain?

Finally having enough as her bottom lip quivers, Florence glances up pleadingly to someone out of view as she tries to stop her daughter from clawing her swollen eyelids with her fingernails. “Darling, you have to stop this! It isn’t working! Please!” 

A low distorted voice answers from the darkness, their words indistinguishable muddled muttering. 

Seemingly understanding what it had said, Florence shakes her head, her chestnut eyes wet, petting her daughter’s hair trying her best to comfort the child. “—She can go blind!! Isn’t her sight more important than changing her eye color for court?!” Rhemi cried hard into her mother’s chest as she tried to hold her down so she didn’t scratch her eyes or squirm aimlessly about.

Asra lowers his head as he watches little Rhemi screams in pain, his purple eyes start to ream with tears as he watches her helplessly. ‘Her… Her eye color?’ He thinks to himself. ‘Who would do that?? Everyone knows there isn’t a spell that could change your eye color that wouldn’t damage your eyesight, or worse. Who would do such a thing?? And to a small child for that matter???’

“—Darling, please!!! W-We’ll find a different way!! Please, this is hurting her!!” Rhemi’s mother begs as she starts to cry herself. “Now please for god sake, give her the counter spell!!”

With a defeated sounding huff, a dark figure creeps into view of the spotlight as it kneels beside Florence and Rhemi. Still indistinguishable, the dark smoky figure takes Rhemi from her mother’s arms and cups her small face rather gently with their right hand. With her puffy eyes now glued shut, the figure waves their left hand conjuring a purple and black magic to their fingers as they say a few words from a strong counter spell. Finally, the redness and swelling starts to dissipate, and she exhales a relieved sounding breath as her nose starts to run and she flutters her doe eyes painfully back open. The figure wipes away her tears with their thumbs, then slightly pulls down her bottom eyelids checking to make sure that the spell was completely gone. The poor thing’s sclera were rather painfully red with broken blood vessels around the irises. But she squints her eyes again. “... Too bright..”, she mutters as she shields her eyes from the overhead lights. With a flick of the figure’s wrist, the lights suddenly became dimmer, as she finally relaxed, but still squinting her eyes trying to see through them. Exhausted, yet relieved from the agony, her little body finally melts down into the figure’s hands. But as soon as the pain subsides, a look of guilt washes over her little face as Rhemi sobs into the dark figure’s hands and clutches their right wrist. “I-…. I’m sorry, Papa… I tried to be brave. I… I wanted to be good… but-…but it hurt, Papa!!!” She starts to sob again making her eyes even more painful. “I’m… S-Sorry…”

The dark figure starts to morph into actual human features under the smoky blob. His purple locks, his overly fancy linen shirt, and his blue teal eyes beaming regretfully into his daughter's sad face as he wipes away her tears as she continues to sob. “N-No… no, I—.” Martin abruptly stops himself mid apology, perhaps about to admit something he shouldn’t. He shakes his head, clears his throat loudly and his teal eyes turning somewhat colder again. “I-…It’s alright my little Pigeon. You did your best. We just need to try harder next time, yes??” 

She sniffles a bit and nods her little head, still shaking like a leaf. “M–Mmm-Hmm.” 

Pulling his lips tightly into his mouth he nods and forces a small fake grin as he wraps his arms around her tightly, her cries muffed by his velvet plum vest. “Perhaps… We’ll just try something else. Something else has to work…” He says patting her little back comfortingly staring off into space, his thoughts a million miles away. “I won’t give up on you, Pigeon.”

Florence sits there with tears sluggishly dripping down her cheeks as she stares at her husband’s face. A look of horror and twinge of scorn as she hears his words. Asra could only imagine what Rhemi’s mother must have felt. This was appalling. Putting your innocent young child in such unnecessary distress was unforgivable. The fox then could feel a low rumble vibrating throughout his chest as his eyes traveled over to see the bear. His fur raised, shoulder hiked, his eyes glare loathing right at Sir Martin’s face as he gnashes his sharp teeth at him. How dare he do this to her… 

Without any warning, the spotlight shuts off, the forcefield diminishes, and the two animals are left in the dark yet again. Both pairs of ears swivel as they hear a swift set of footsteps trundle behind them to turn where the door was. It flies open and the silhouette of the young Rhemi returns, the hallway lights illuminating the hole in her chest as she pauses there seemingly waiting for her guests to follow. The fox and the bear darted towards her, and as soon as they were close enough she took off yet again, this time towards a door with light blue and white trim around it. This one was just as badly burnt if not more than the first, however this one was one of the doors that were labeled, “Do not enter”, equipped with heavy chains, boards, and nails, keeping it locked up tight. But with another wave of her little hand, all the boards and chain effortlessly flew off the door and dropped to the ground with a heavy THUD and it swung open wide.

Tirelessly, Muriel and Asra sprint to enter the room, trying to catch the little flighty thing, but they find that once again the little girl has vanished. The door behind them CLICKS back shut leaving them in total darkness. The two of them coughed a bit as they sat in the dark, this room was still badly filled with hot smoke and embers, it made the fox and bear slightly choke.

They nearly jump out of their skins as another spotlight returns with a loud CLUNK, and they find a new young Rhemi yet again, maybe a few years older than the last vision, at least nine or ten. She sat on the ground in a cute pastel light green and lavender dress with lace ruffles and a large silk bow in her hair. This time however, she seemed like she was in much happier spirits as she sat on a pretty soft blue picnic blanket. The bear and fox had to squint their eyes at the swirling ash to see, but then they soon realized that she was holding a beautifully wrapped box with purple and gold wrapping paper and a blue bow that tied it. Suddenly two women appear side by side looking across from Rhemi as she inspects the box carefully. From the looks of it, this vision seemed much more relaxed than the previous one was. Despite it being so murky through the smoke and ash, it looked like it was bright and beautiful. All their feet were bare, their dresses loosened and more casual, and food was spread across the blanket with a small half eaten cake off to the side. Why was this locked up tight?

The first woman was tall, had beautiful dark skin like rich warm cacao, her eyes a golden yellow, her tight short curly hair tied up in an orange silk scarf and she wore a more traditional Charlésian linen dress, but had a dark green Throthian’s overcoat that was rich in texture and colors and she clearly no corset or petticoats as she lazily leaned to her side. She sat there trying to stifle a large smile as she watched little Rhemi stare at the present. Muriel then realized it was Rhemi’s Aunt Athena. But back then, her name was just Phara. And really…she wasn’t even her aunt. She was her teacher…. And her mother’s lover. 

Asra looks at the woman with a faint melancholy, it’s been about five years since his master died. And seeing her face still stung deeply. Just like Rhemi, he didn’t get to say goodbye, and the constant feeling of unspoken words still haunted him. 

Next to Phara was Rhemi’s mother yet again, but this time with her long dirty blonde hair loose and waves flowed freely down her back. She was wearing a much simpler dress than before made from light cotton material in a softer grayish white and blue shawl. Despite her beauty, her eyes seemed to have bags underneath them and she even looked a little pale… Was she sick?

Phara presses her lips into her mouth from the anticipation as her student still hesitantly stares at the box, finally noticing the small holes on the top of the lid; she ran over them with the tip of her index finger and she tilted her head confused. Then she nearly jumps out of her skin as it softly jostles and moves all on its own.

“Well… go on. It shouldn’t bite!” Phara says encouragingly. As soon as she spoke, Muriel then realized he remembered this woman. He knew her from back in his days at the colosseum. He thought she was just some random healer; But it was so long ago now and she did look differently back then. Maybe he put it out of his mind, he was fond of dissociating back then. Of course she looked familiar…

But the bear shakes himself out of his thoughts as watches on with Little Rhemielia. She seems to take a brave breath in as she carefully removes the lid keeping her distance. She warily flutters her eyes, not seeing anything inside and inches slightly closer. But then, a little furry orange and white head pops out with a little cute squeak as it sniffs cautiously in the air and Rhemi’s eyes suddenly light up with excitement. She inhales sharply as she scoops the little creature gently out of the box and squeals happily, “IT’S YOU!! IT’S YOU!!!” She says as she clutches the small adolescent ferret in her hands.

Recognizing Rhemi’s face, the critter quickly perks up and it happily crawls up her arm and makes little cute squeaking noises as it nuzzles up her cheek, his whiskers ticking her nose and he nibbles on her hair making her giggle. “REM-REM!” It says with a squeaky little voice in her head. Strangely, Asra and Murile could hear his little squeaky voice in their ears too, it was a high pitched voice, and it matched his whirry energy.

Muriel’s eyes widen and stomach drops as he realizes who this little creature was. It was Ezavior, her familiar. An epiphany creeps into the Kokhurian’s mind as he watches this scene continue to play out. He glanced at where the door was, and realized that there was no mere dreamscape anymore. These are her memories. Raw memories. That must be why they are all locked shut, these are the memories she didn’t remember. As his green eyes pan back over to the small ferret, he begins to understand why this door was nailed shut. Her panicked reaction back in the south started to make more sense. Some memories are more difficult to remember than others… he could understand that more than anyone.

Phara smiles brilliantly, clapping her hands together and her dimples proudly beaming, laughing jollily at Rhemi’s excitement. “Happy birthday, mon petit oiseau.” 

But Florence shoots her a hard look as she whispers, “... A pet?” Rhemi's smile fades as she peers over at her mother hanging into every word, the excitement pulled away from her. “... Phara, why on earth did you get her a pet??”

But Phara just smiles and shrugs as she takes a long swig of wine then pops a couple of grapes in her mouth. “Mmm! She saw him when we went to the market and she said he could hear him talk to her. Only familiars can be connected like that. So he isn’t a pet–” she says with her mouth half full, not caring for etiquette at the moment.

“But…  Martin! He would never–” Fear washes over her mothers face as she pounders about this more and more. “He isn’t going to–”

“Pffft!” Unfazed, Phara runs her hand up Florence’s thigh rather intimately, seemingly easing Rhemi’s mother’s nerves instantly. “... Martin hired me to help Rhemieilia control her magic, and a familiar is an excellent way to do that.” Florence’s cheeks turn a bit pink as she stares at Phara’s hand placement. Realizing herself, the Thorthian magician pulls her hand quickly away rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly hoping Rhemi didn’t notice. But even if she did, she wouldn't know what it meant. The affair must have started not too soon before this moment. They both looked rather guilty yet yearned for more.

Stifling a flirtation grin, Florence quickly shakes out of her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “... But he is going to ask questions, Phara. And I never asked permission if you both could leave the grounds… So she shouldn’t have been close to any animals to have a connection with, especially ferrets from the shopping district…. And my husband isn't the kind of person you just ask forgiveness rather than permission..” 

“... Ohh…” Phara's smile falls as she realizes Florence’s predicament, perhaps she overstepped. “... Flora, dear—I’m… I’m sorry. Perhaps it would have been wiser if I discussed this with you… I just thought it would be more fun if this was a surprise.” She says apologetically as she holds Florence’s hand discreetly behind their legs. “...Perhaps I overstepped this time?”

The young little Rhemi and Ezavior look at each other refusing to be apart, her eyes darting around the blanket as the gears turn in her head, quickly concocting a plan. A little cute grin creeps on her face as she slaps the blanket with determination. “I’ll keep him hidden!!” 

Muriel can feel the corners of his lips as they form into a small strange animalistic smile as he sees her light up. This version of Rhemi shared the same adorable excited face that his version had when she got all ecstatic about something. Her enthusiasm was always contagious to him, he used to hate how it made him feel before, but now… it was home.

 “–Papa doesn’t need to know!” She continued with a proud and rather serious looking expression. 

In awe Florence stares at her daughter with a bit of disappointment. “Rhemielia, sweety… we can’t lie about–”

“—It’s not lying… It’s just not telling.” She rebuttals almost scarily quick. “… You’ve said that before. Remember? When we went to the market?”

Florence and Phara both glance at each other, taken by surprise, a bead of sweat on their brows looking rather guilty. “-That's not exactly the lesson we want you to learn–” Phara replies with a scolding tone.

“—Please! Oh please!!!” Her eyes got even bigger and more pleasing as she desperately begged. “… Don’t take Ezavior away! I'll take good care of him!! I promise!!!”. 

“—Ezavior?!” 

“–Ezavior??” The two women exclaim in unison. 

Her mother can’t help but chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief and her forehead wrinkled as her eyebrows raise. “Y-... You named him already? You just met the creature!”

The child nods her head hard and adorably as she clutches him carefully to her heart and he snuggles up to her sweetly. “Yep! He’s got a name now—that makes him family!! And you can’t take away a family member!” She says sticking out her bottom lip in a cute pout dropping her chin. “Pweeeaassssse????”

Florances shakes her head again from her daughter’s whining, and searches for a responsible answer as she stares at Phara for a moment. The lady magician shrugs and whispers reassuringly. “I really do think that he would be good for her, Flora. She really does need something to help her focus her magic.” She leans in more just below a whisper, not thinking Rhemi could hear. “… Besides, the child doesn’t have any real friends she can talk to.”

Florence looks back toward her daughter, she watches as she gives Ezavior a baby carrot and he munches on it adorably. Slowly considering this situation, her mother leans her torso over and grabs the neck of the bottle of wine and takes a long swing from the bottle. “Yes… but what about Beatrix? The little beady-eyed gremlin would sniff him out rather quickly.” She says, whipping the wine off her lips with her forearm like a peasant.

Phara then scoffs and waves her hand dismissively making a minty green shimmering mist around her long neatly trimmed fingers. “Pshh!! Never you mind that wee-ugly beasty. I can whip something up and his scent will practically be nonexistent.”

Shaking with anticipation, the cute girl holds her breath as she sticks out her little bottom lip and pouts and looks up at her mother with her large pleading red doe eyes. “So… Can I keep him, Mummy? Pleaaaaassseeee?” 

A soft groan leaves her lips, placing the bottle back down to the blanket and she rubs her face and neck as she thinks on it for a moment, knowing she had little choice now. The corners of her lips then sprout a beautiful and dainty smile as she looks between Phara and Rhemielia and she finally gives her daughter a nod.

With sheer pure excitement and joy, Rhemi leaps to her feet as she squeals, “YESS!!! YES! YES! YES! THANK YOU, MUMMY! THANK YOU, MASTER!! THANK YOU!!!!” She wraps her arms around her mother and Athena’s shoulders for a quick hug before returning to dancing as the little creature squeaks happily along with her.  

The two women laugh at her pure childish glee as Florence leans into Phara’s shoulder trying their best not to be overly affectionate, yet they also can’t help but steal a loving glance or two. The young child clutches the sweet little ferret to her face and he snuggles his small head onto her right cheek. “–But! We need to eventually tell your father about him...” Florence quickly socks, pointing her finger.

Her words start to fade and the spotlight starts to extinguish like a dying fire. The last thing they could see was Rhemi snuggling up to the small ferret looking so joyous and grateful to finally have a friend of her own and the ash soon smothers out the bittersweet scene. 

Darkness once again chokes the room as the memory ends. The door behind them flies open as the young Rhemi rips out of the room and into the next one. Muriel can’t help but roll his eyes and drop his shoulders before he picks up his heavy limbs to chase after the small girl yet again. This time, she clambered up the stairs towards the third floor, and ran down the hallway in what felt like forever towards the least damaged area. Finally, she opened a slightly charred door that was painted crimson red and ashy black and hard scrapes and stitches woven into the wood. It was the least damaged of the three so far, and it was the furthest away from the ballroom. She then strangely hung onto the door, playfully swinging it back and forth as she waited for her guests to catch up. Her blank expression finally falls into a tiny wry grin as if this was some kind of deranged game of cat and mouse. Just like before, as they drew close enough, she ran inside the door. How was she this fast?? The two wondered, surprised by not feeling fatigued by all this chasing.

The two dash inside the new room expecting a very faded memory like the last with nothing but a spotlight. They were however dumbfounded when they found that this room housed a much more pristine vision. Instead of being in the manor, they found themselves back in Vesuvia in what appears to be the old cells in the colosseum. However the old arena wasn’t like it was today, half in ruin and the other part housing a shady market. No, this was kept up and furnished and fresh blood drenching the floors.

Muriel stops in tracks for a moment not sure what to think of this sudden transportation to such a dark time. It was almost exactly how he remembered this terrible place, he spent so many miserable years here and didn’t want to relive them. He snarls a bit showing his long teeth, what were they doing here anyways?? Rhemi never came to the colosseum… Well except for that one time–but it can’t be… or wait… was this exactly that time? Admittedly, he had long forgotten it himself (yet again) until this very moment, and wasn’t keen on remembering it either. This was so long ago now and it was such a low point in his life.

He hesitantly points his paws to head back to the door that happened to still be open wanting nothing but to escape. But Asra sleekly runs under his friend’s feet, racing to what the next vision had to share, too curious for his own good. Muriel unintentionally digs his claws into the ground underneath watching as the door shuts and he grumbles irritably before following his friend. 

Memorized by the clarity of this scene, the fox takes a seat as if he was watching on like a spectator at a puppet show on a street corner back home in the real world. Begrudgingly the bear follows suit, feeling himself shrink into massive shoulders wanting to make himself disappear. He never liked thinking back to any of his days here. And now he was forced to relive it.

At first there were no people, but only the stage of the cell without the onlooking wall, however there were noises all around and voices without any bodies to them. But soon Rhemi appeared holding the leather strap to her bag tightly and clasping a basket full of food and a bottle of mead. Unlike the child version of her they’ve seen so far, this one was about eighteen or nineteen. She had on some kind of creamy-white long sleeved linen overcoat with a bright lapis and gold strapless shirt poking out underneath and wore an embellished with a corset belt. She also wore a pair of brown pants that tied at the knees and flared out a bit and had on a pair of brown and gold sandals. Her hair was cut rather short, resting just above her shoulders. 

The nearly middle aged guard gives her a large over flirty toothy smile as he escorts her to the locked cell in front of the two animal specters, which curiously no one was in. Even more curious, the guard’s face didn’t have any defining details, all that the bear and fox could see were his piercing brown eyed gaze, and crooked yellow teeth. “… Your Aunt typically works with this one,” he says, trying to sound cool as takes the keys out to open the door and she tries not to sneer in disgust at the guard or the mess made down there by that day’s bloody events. “… He normally has the most wounds of the gladiators anyways.” He continues as he opens the door waiting only on the outside of the bars.

“Oh… thank you!” She replies with a slightly frightened look on her face slowly stepping into the cell, the basket in her hands jarring to tremble.

“You… uh…. You going to be ok in there, little Miss? Athena normally goes in by herself—”

“—I think I can manage then!” She arrogantly says with a fake smile, visibly getting irritated.

Suddenly a large human mass appears inside of the cell towards the back corner. He had long black tangly hair that covered most of his face, and was only wearing his gladiatorial tunic and a sad pair of sandals on his large feet. He must have just finished the fight not that long before, he looked terrible.

The bear gulps hard, feeling his cheeks heat up under his thick fur at the sight of himself and Asra sadly hangs his head as he glances towards his friend. He never saw him when was in the cells like this and it was worse than he ever could have imagined. 

Once the gladiator turned his head, his green beady eyes met hers, and both state for a moment a bit shocked at their sudden reunion. Rather relieved, Rhemi’s shoulders relax as she realizes who this person really was, but she acts annoyed and adds an unnecessary layer of bitchiness to her tone. “Huh… Well, well, well~ If this isn’t my lucky day! It’s Blanket-boy!”

Quickly, he shifts his eyes looking past her shoulder with a look of horror. “Y-...you?! …. W-Why–” He abruptly stops himself and turns his entire body away from her as he sits firmly on the small stool. 

His cell was considerably larger than the others, but it was noticeably just as tight when he was in it. There was almost nothing to furnish this cell either, other than a bed made of stray covered with a dark greenish black blanket (the one he always hid under), the small wooden stool, a bucket full of water, and a sad commode in the corner, there was nothing other than itchy straw, hard cobblestone, the iron bars and chains to keep him company.

“...Get out…” He gruffly snarls, clutching his bloody arm tightly as blood oozes from between his fingers. His eyes fixed back to the floor and his face twisted into a rather disgusted expression.“…Don’t need you…” He was somewhat cleaned up, the blood of his opponents was at least washed off of him, but his wounds were still freshly open and even started to drip to the floor.

“Well—I Can’t… ya see??” She starts leaning her body onto the cell door, crossing her arms and legs lazily just as Asra and Athena did, making the guard behind her become squished between the bar doors and the wall. “... ‘Thena’s out of town, and she sent me to come and taking care of the Scourge, so, lucky for you, here I fuckin’ am!–Because nobody else wanted this job!” She lies at that last part. Asra volunteered but Athena wouldn’t let him. Now that she sees who the Scourge truly is, she understands why. “...So, I suggest you just sit there all bruting-like on your little stool in the corner over there and we can just get this over with.” She huffs as she presses her body off of the bars, freeing the guard, and she waltzes further into the cell.

The gladiator makes a low growl as he scowls at her as she rummages for some bandages in her bag. Watching her feet as they trundle closer, he visibly becomes more and more uneasy. Yet again, she was here to heal him at his worst and he grabbed his arm even tighter, hating this entire thing. In a final act of protest, he pushes his stool with his uninjured leg in her opposite direction, making a loud dragging noise echo throughout the surrounding vacant cells and stops in her tracks.

Now actually annoyed, she throws down her arm, stomps her left foot down and scoffs, “...Seriously?” Placing her free hand on her hip sassily, he sits there silently trying to look as small as possible, refusing to look up from the ground. 

Watching from the outside, Muriel couldn’t help but feel like these versions of him and his fianceé were absolute strangers to him now. He’s not really like this person doing his damndest to disappear in a corner full of shame, not being able to look people in the eye for less than a second before shriving into himself. At least not anymore he isn’t. Of course they still had a lot of the same attributes, and still wouldn’t say he ‘loved’ being around people, but he grew past this sad untrusting version of himself who hid away in the forest and carried an immense amount of guilt. He now felt like he was finally becoming the Kokhurian man that he could be proud of.

“... You realize I literally can’t leave, right?” She lies again for some reason. “By decree of Count Lucio, all his winning gladiators must have their wounds mended and cared for after their matches. Meaning, I can’t leave you bleeding all over your filthy cell and get blood poisoning all over again even if I fucking wanting to! Not until I heal those gouges in your arm and leg that is.” 

The long haired gladiator stares towards the wall again, blinking hard and pondering for a moment, still not wanting anything to do with this.

Impatiently, she folds her arms tightly and starts tapping her foot.  “So…. Ya gonna let me get this shit over with?... Or am I gonna have to restrain you?” She says her hand summoning her magic, red, blue and yellow colors swirling around her hand menacingly.

Well… that looks familiar. The bear can’t help but think to himself. Now that he thought about it, she really could resemble Martin at times, especially back then with her uptight snotty, know-it-all attitude. He always thought she was such a damn arrogant brat back then. It’s funny though, even though he had chains around his neck, there was plenty of slack to reach her. He could have easily overpowered her just with his brute strength and could have physically thrown her out of his cell. And he knew what she said about Lucio’s decree was total bullshit, and yet he remembered how unwilling he was to fight anymore that day. Lucio had a few special guests that particular week, so he saved a lot of prisoners for him to fight all at once so he could impress his company. It was rather brutal though, the prisoners even turned on each other and it became a total blood bath. 

Finally the gladiator begrudgingly but silently agrees, as he lets out a sad tired exhale. He moves his long hair out of the way, turning his body more towards the wall to signal his defeat so she could get to work. 

“Hmmm…. That’a boy.” She says with a tiny smuggish smirk as she drops her hand dispersing her magic.

“Uhhh…. Shall I keep watch, little Miss?” The guard asks with a crackling hesitant voice, hiding behind the other side of the bars still.

A small grimace crept back to her face being called ‘little Miss’ a second time, especially by a wimpy creep like him who did nothing but stare at her rear and boobs. But as she turns to face him, stifling the urge to smack him, she smiles cutely and replies sweetly. “Oh, no, no~ You can leave us, I can take care of myself.” 

The guard looked her up and down unconvinced, looking a bit too long at her tits, “Ya’… sure?? He could try something funny…” He pretends to act brave, puffing his chest plate out to look good, but they all knew Muriel could squish him like a bug. 

Annoyed by this sad excuse for a guard, she continues to smile fakely as she grabs the cell door, “Oh yes~”, SLAAAM!!— She says, shutting herself in and giving him a fake flirtatious look as the bars still jostled around and rang. “Don’t worry about him, he’s harmless outside of the ring. Besides, I hate audiences anyways~” She continues, leaning her weight into the bars again, shooing him with her hand as she bats her long eyelashes. “You understand, right?” 

Finally the guard nods rather disappointedly and locks the door from the outside and walks away. “...Finally.” She mutters under her breath, and a hard sneer replaces her fake smile as she turns back to the wounded patient searching for some bandages again. Just utterly annoyed at this whole situation, even though she could have gotten out of it rather easily. However it was strange that she felt more comfortable being alone with a killer in chains than that guard. “... Got tired of that creep looking at my ass… He’s like… thirty!”

As she gathers her supplies out of her bag she continuously gripes and groans. “Uggggggh. Why the hell did I get roped into this shit??? ‘…Oh, Rhemmmmi, my petit oiseauuu~ Pleaaaase, could I ask you to do me this small favor? It shouldn’t take much of your timeeee~! And it would do you some good to give back to the communityyyyyy!’… PPFFFTT!! Community my ass…” She continues to mutter to herself impersonating Athena’s accent and raspy deep voice as she preps to heal these flesh wounds. 

The old Muriel glances back behind his shoulder, confused to whom she was talking to, and accidentally letting their eyes meet once again. “…What are you lookin’ at??” She hisses, sneering under his green gaze. Quickly he looks off anywhere else and he can’t help but instinctively rolls his eyes feeling utterly annoyed as he turns his chin away from her again. Standing over him, she tugs his large arm towards cuing him to finally let go of it, and she stops the bleeding from the main injury. Once that was under control, she then starts to stitch back some of the small wounds first with her magic to get them out of the way. “Wow… you sure have grown…” She mutters under her breath again, marveled at his immense size, but she doesn’t make it sound like a compliment, making him all the more self conscious.

Watching this from the outside, the fox and the bear can’t help but feel a bit awkward. This memory didn’t seem to be important, should they even be there to begin with? But neither of them seemed to be capable of walking away. And behind that child version of Rhemi ran in here. Maybe there was something they needed to know? What was young Rhemi doing anyways? Are these memories even important? Or is she really just messing with them as she just aimlessly runs around in this endless manor of memories?

As the memory continues, there was obvious palpable tension in the air as Muriel and Rhemi sat there for quite a few moments mending his wounds. The worst injury was by his left deltoid and ran along the back of his tricep muscle; it didn’t cut any arteries or tendons, but it was still pretty deep and was oozing and bleeding a lot, it could easily get infected if not treated properly.

“So…” She finally says breaking the silence and he sinks further into his stool. “... You’re the infamous ‘Scourge of the South’ that eeeeevveryone talks about, huh, Blanket-boy?” Annoyed, the tall gladiator just sits there trying to be still. Muriel could remember that she just wanted her to hurry up and leave already so he could be alone after those day’s events. “…Pfft. I was thinking you’d actually be a vicious monster…ya know? Ten feet tall, merciless, eats babies in one gulp… That's what everyone says about you anyways… But you already knew that, huh?.... Well isn’t this a freakin’ disappointment…..” Still, utter silence. Feeling still stupidly brave, she just decides to keep poking at this poor beast just to see what would happen. “...Still not a talker I see…. Guess some things don’t change… do they??...” 

Unhappy to still not get a rise out of him, her bottom lip sticks out a bit as she stares at him hard from behind and wraps the linen tourniquet around his upper arm. Then an idea creeps into her head. “...Sooooo….. Does Asra even know that you’re killing people for a living now?” The gladiator suddenly stiffens at his name, a low grumble escapes from his diaphragm and he slightly turns his chin towards her. A smile creeps into her lips, feeling the pot finally stirring. “Hmmmm! Who knew the boy who hid behind his blanket was such a cold blooded bastar—”

“—Do you ever stop talking?!” He finally growls under his breath, still looking anywhere but her.

An even bigger smile forms on her lips as he finally takes the bait. “Ooh-hooo~! So it speaks!... What—did I happen to hit a nerve there?”

Muriel turns back away from her towards the wall making her brow furrow. Disliking him trying to ignore her again, she pulls his bandage too tightly and he winces as pain shoots down his elbow and his wrist. “Oooooops~” She says with a false look of empathy, and bats her eyelashes again. “Do hope you’ll forgive me, blanket-boy~” a small bitchy grin creeps back into the corners of her lips.

“.... You’re nothing like the other woman.” He grumbles, sinking into himself as he places his hand on the tourniquet that she cruelly tightened.

“Ohhhh noooo~ What an insult. I’m sooo devastated!” She mocks as she stands to her feet walking within his view as she playfully cups her face as he glares past her shoulder with the gross look of disdain. “Whatever…”

Silence chokes the space once again, as she grabs some more cloth for his wounds on his leg and decides to keep pushing. “So… when did you start this career, eh?” She sits back to her knees in front of him to his leg and he tries to look away from her even more. “–Ohhh! Better yet—–How do you exactly apply for something like this?....” His shoulders begin to slowly increase higher and higher the more she pries. “... Does your resume include something like, ‘various experiences in viciously beheading and/or maiming?’... Or are you so illiterate you brought the Count a dozen heads to his table and got the point across–?”

“–ENOUGH!!!” His booming voice erupts. —THUDD!!

Finally having his patients tested far past its limits, the gladiator slams his fist hard into the solid stone wall, leaving a notable dent in the brick. The rumble echoes through the small enclosed space, making the empty cells’ bars rattle and clank all the way down the hallway. Taken off guard by his sudden burst of anger, Rhemi retracts her arms close to her body, actually feeling the twinge of fear at the sudden outburst. This is exactly what she wanted, but somehow she was still shocked once she got it.

 “...  Obviously…  don’t wanna talk to you… nor do I owe you any explanations–” 

She sits there on her knees and thinks about his words for a moment, and before she could stop herself, she blurts out, “... But you do owe Asra one.” His name stiffens the tall man yet again as he hears it leave her lips. Shocked at her own honestly, she stands to her feet as she looks down at him. “... He’s my best friend and I care about him… He talks about you all the time! Says he misses you and wishes he knew where you were! But little does he know that you’ve here doing the Count’s bidding!...” Shame is thrusted into Muriel’s shoulders like a ton of boulders and he sinks into his stool and looks to the ground. “...Athena told me you didn’t want Asra to know about this!.... Why? Are you too afraid he's gonna abandon you once he knows what you are? YOU CAN’T HIDE THIS!! And—I won’t let the likes of you hurt him!”

The fox’s whimpers sadly pinning his ears back as he sinks into himself even deeper as he watches his two best friends fight like this. He even didn’t realize that they knew each other back then. He never saw them act so cold and angry to one another, especially when his name tossed into the mix. Not only that, but only years later did he know that Lucio had lied to Muriel and him. For so many years, the blonde bastard lied just to get what he wanted from them.

“... Don’t think I care?” The Scourge finally whips his head around towards her with an angry expression somehow feeling uncharacteristically defensive.

She scoffs with a half grin, “Are you fuckin’ joking?..... Just look at you!! Look at where you landed yourself, Blanket-boy! Look at what you're capable of!!” She half shouts pointing to the oversized blood soaked ax that hung on the wall outside his cell. The blade is still damp with blood. “You're still a monster like everyone says, you’re just a pathetic one.”

The sad gladiator sinks back into himself looking rather shameful facing the wall again and lowers his voice to almost a whisper, “...... I—I’d never hurt him.”

“Not on purpose, maybe... But I know what kind of person you are. The quiet one that always faded into the background. Wanted to disappear. How fucking creepy is that? Quietly wanting people to forget you even exist?…. And for what?? Waiting for a reason to snap?! So what if you snapped around Asra then, huh?? What would happen then??”

“....You don’t know me at all…” He says firmly with his gravely deep voice, shocking himself for even engaging with her. Normally he wasn’t one for words, yet she really could get a stir out of him. 

“I know you well enough.” She raises an eyebrow pondering for a moment, then with a pointed look, she starts to grin knowing this was going to be her finishing move. “.... I know you’re too much a fuckin’ pussy to tell Asra that you’re in love with him.” 

His eyes widen wildly as he snaps his head around to look at her, rattling his chains loudly. Shocked to hear those words spoken out loud.

The two dreamlike creatures jolted out of their sadness, absolutely shocked at Rhemi’s words. Muriel had completely forgotten about this part, he must have sealed it far away quite a few years ago. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the fox’s purple eyes gawk toward him with his little mouth gaped open. All he could do was just look away, feeling a deep sense of dread sinking into his large chest. He never wanted Asra to know those feelings, and how was he supposed to explain himself after all this time? Those feelings were now old ones, ancient even, but at that moment, they were fresh and raw like the wounds on his body. Even now as he heard them again, they stung with harsh potency.

Rhemi raises an eyebrow looking rather triumphant with his reaction as he glares towards her with his mouth gaped open in shock.

“What?? You thought it wasn’t obvious?? You’re just as big of a puss-filled idiot when you were in that cave!! Holy shit!” She snorts as she gathers her things and turns to the cell door. She didn’t finish her job yet, he still had an open wound above his knee, but she didn’t care. It’s not like if she left it, he’d bleed out. It could probably heal on its own, he'd just have a bigger scar. What's one more at this point?

“….You're one to talk…” he finally retaliates, anger starting billowing up from his chest as he flares his nostrils. Rhemi stops dead in her tracks, turning back around and eyes fixed on the back of his head, totally taken off guard that he finally was coming back at her. “.... I could see right through you back then… you're not the only one —I know exactly what kind of person you are.” 

She sassily tilts her head and places her free on her hip. “Pfft! Oh really??”

“You… you’re no better–” he says with a long pause as he gathers everything he pinned up to give this bitch what she deserved to hear. “…You just are a liar…. A fake!... The kind of person who pretends to be confident and bold… Pretend to be a good person—but really your generosity is limited to how it benefits you!... Deep down, you're just a fucking coward and a bully!! Afraid of being the lowest one in the hierarchy.”

Bewildered by this sudden accusation, Rhemi parts her lips about to spit more venomous words into his direction, but then the gladiator stands to his feet and gleams down at her from his nearly seven foot gaze. Realizing that she’d never seen him stand up before, she witnesses his terribly immense height, deadly chiseled muscles as he leans over her intimidatingly. All the words behind her teeth instantly retreat back into her throat and she shifts her feet into a strong wide stance, summoning her magic secretly to her hands just in case she needed to defend herself. 

“...You dare call me a monster, but you should take a good look in a mirror! I’m forced to hurt people!!! I can at least admit that I hate myself, but you?!! You’re too afraid to even think about it!! SO YOU MAKE EVERYONE AROUND YOU SUFFER INSTEAD!!” It was evident that his words cut deep into her core as she gritted her teeth and puffed out her chest and she started to breathe shallowly. With a guttural scoff, he walks back over to his corner where his stool sat, shaking his head in disbelief. “....Don’t see what Asra sees in you. You think I’d hurt him?! NO!! Never!! But, YOU?!.... All you've ever done is cause him pain since you met him!”

Confused, she shakes her head mustering up the courage to finally reply. “The fuck is that supposed to mean, Blanket-boy?? I’d never–”

“—I never told him how I felt because he’s in love with YOU!!!” He says as he walks back over to her pointing his large finger towards her chest. But as soon as those words fly from his lips, he regrets even opening his mouth and retreats back into himself and a deep shade of red paints across his ears, face, and chest.

Rhemi takes a step back as her eyes open wide and the magic completely dissipates out of her hand. All of her venom and anger all but vanishes and is hastily replaced by confusion and dread. “....He…. He what—?” She mutters as her eyes flutter, not fully comprehending. “No…. He… he can’t….”

Suddenly a door flies open down the hallway that leads out to the center stadium, the pair’s attention being ripped away from their conversation towards the voices echoing down the corridor. As she listens carefully to these voices as they grow louder and louder, she shifts her head to peer outside to see who was coming. But her eyes widened as if she’d seen a phantom and fear completely consumed her. Quickly, she backs away from the cell bars, realizing it was too late to call the guard over so she could make her escape and she panics. She darts back and forth trying around the cell to find a place to run, she turns back to the executioner with desperation as she whispers demandingly, “Hide me….”

“Wha–?” He growls flinching back as she gets closer, returning to his quiet reclusive self. “... No...Get away–.”

“Hide me, Please!!!” She begs looking back towards the voices drawing ever closer.

“... Why?” He grumbles leaning down at her a bit, looking rather intimidating from his height and gritting his teeth. 

But instead of scaring her, anger flashes in her red irises and her teeth clenched together. She suddenly snatches the chains connected around his neck and yanks it as hard as she can, pulling his eyes to her level and she glares into his bright green gaze. “—JUST HIDE ME, YOU STUPID TALL FUCK!” She quietly squawks with her teeth gritting.

The hermit grabs her wrist to pull her hand away, parting his lips ready to tell her to go to fucking hell, but as soon as he inhales, he realizes her hand was trembling making the chains rattle and clank as tears ream her eyes. “P-Please!!!... Please for the love of the gods, hide me!….I promise… I’ll do anything!! W-whatever you want! Just–H-….He can’t find me! Please!!! Don’t let him see me!” Seeing her as she tries to hold back her tears from rolling down her face, his gaze softens slightly. She looked so utterly mortified. 

Muriel can’t help but remember how he felt back then… At that moment, he almost hated her… but he also didn’t like to see her beg like this. He knew how it felt to be afraid. Seeing her desperate pleas made him wonder how many people begged for their lives every time he went to the arena and he could do nothing but swing his ax down on them. But here, at this moment, maybe he could actually do something to help, even if it was her.

Keeping her eyes peeled towards the shadows of the approaching strangers, Rhemi whimpering becomes even quieter as she shivers head to toe ferociously. “—I—I can’t let him find me…. Please!!!” The old Muriel lets out a hard and heavy huff, and she begs one last time. “..PleaSS—MMMM–!!” 

Hastily as soon as the voices were around the corner, seconds within view, the gladiator covers his healer’s mouth with his large hand and shoves her behind him in the corner completely out of sight behind some hay. Dazed from his swift movements, she finds herself shocked how gently he handled her. Despite his size and swiftness, he was feather light to her skin. And to think, just a few moments ago, she was so completely relentless and cruel to him. Hearing the voices finally approach the front of the cell and their footsteps stop, she can feel heartbeat pound loudly and she instinctively clutches to the back of his large belt around his waist and attempts to be as still as she possibly can. As she stood there behind the giant gladiator, she could see out between his arm and torso, observing the party approaching without detection. Then her eyes scan upwards, she observes his various scars over his bulging muscles that hid under that tuft of long black hair, still taken by surprise that he even bothered to help her. Somehow she felt safe behind him, behind a man that everyone deemed to just be a deadly killer.

Obscuring her from anyone’s view just as Lucio comes around the corner with an entourage, the Scourge stiffens as he feels her small shaky hands hold onto him and he just whispers almost comfortingly, “... Hold still.” 

The Count trots over rather proudly and enthusiastically to The Scourge’s cell, seemingly showing the place off like a child showing off his new toys on the playground. As they all converse, it was evident that his guests were of a much higher rank than him from how he addresses them; Also evident from his apparent ass kissing. “And…Here is where we hold our favorite champion! This cell was specially made to house ‘em! I present to you, my best gladiator yet! The Scourge of the South!!!” Lucio so giddlily announces hoping that his victor would at least do something of amusement. But he just stood there in the corner, wishing nothing but death upon all these noblemen. Lucio coughs a bit awkwardly, turning his attention back to the foreign king. “…. This is the one you so enjoyed watching, Sire.” He says with a half bow pointing with his metallic arm towards Muriel. A few heavily armed foreign guards in fancy golden armor accompany his guests, crowding the small hallway. 

“Hmmm.” Says the man. He stood just under six feet, was swimming in heavy velvets, a silk cape, adorned with very fancy lace, and was dripping head to toe with various jewels. He was an older man that had grayish-blue hair to his shoulders in an overly ‘fashionable’ style that came to his ears into curls. He stood there staring inside as if he was watching an animal at the zoo as he covered his fat nose with one hand and held a half bitten apple in the other. He even had white powder face make-up with an ugly fake mole glued onto his left upper lip just above his pencil thin handlebar mustache. “…C'est encore plus laid de près, n'est-ce pas?” He says looking at a person just out of view still holding his nose in disgust making his voice sound nasally. “... Et plus grand aussi.. No?…”

“Indeed, my King.” A man says, as he casually comes into view, every other step you could hear a wooden cane striking against the brick ground.

The bear suddenly feels a cold shiver down his long spine recognizing that voice as he watches this replay in front of him now with such clarity. Back then, he assumed that Rhemi was afraid of Lucio, that was the only reason why she was shivering and clinging onto his belt like she did, but now… it makes more sense. 

Sir Martin stands next to his Lord, pulling him out a handkerchief from his breast pocket to press against his mouth and nose, eyes locked on the gladiator. “… What a filthy goddamn animal.” He mutters as he sneers at the mountain man behind the bars, not flinching at the smells. Already having enough, he waves his gloved hand at Lucio, gesturing to keep them moving. “Shall we press on, Sire? We wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite with the smell of piss, shit, and blood, now would we?”

“Mmmmartinnnn~ Where’s your sense of fun? I came here because I wanted to see The Scourge of the South and by the gods, I am going to see this ugly motherfucker up close! Haaa!” Said the king with a nasty chuckle as he threw the half bitten apple straight at the poor Scourge’s face. With a wet sounding THUD, the apple bounces off of his left cheekbone, not even bothering to bat it away, but he scrunches his face irritably. He pulls his right arm firmly on Rhemi’s shoulder, tugging her closer to ensure she wasn’t to be seen at all. The king’s once amused face melts into a frown as disappointment seeps in. “Hmmm… I was hoping he’d act like a monster down here as well…” Frustrated, he snaps his head back around to his host. “Luci!! Why does he not stir?.. Is he an imbécile?”

“Perhaps he is..” Martin adds as he stares at the poor thing with his icy blue stare.

Lucio glares at Muriel again, hoping he at least put on a bit of a better show as a bead of sweat drips from his forehead. But all he does is look away, not showing any interest in fighting anything else today. “Oh well…ummm— He-he-he must just be tired, your highness! He did go against over eight fighters today. And that took over an hour! He doesn’t look at it, but giants do get tired too after all… RIGHT??–”

Muriel finally gives him a glare and mutters, “Yeah… I’m tired.” 

“Ugh!! What a bore… But, no matter… I have lost interest. Come, come, now Luci! You promised us a good time!” The king says with an almost bratty demeanor as if he was a toddler who didn’t get what he wanted. 

“Yes, yes… Don’t you have anything else of interest to show His Majesty, Count?” Martin says to Lucio with an eyebrow raised annoyed. “… Or was this all that you had planned?”

“–Why, yes!!” The count’s voice cracks nervously. “Yes! Of course I have more!!” Lucio then hastily moves on deeper into the cells and keeps yapping all the way down the hallway talking something about his various animals that he housed in the neighboring cells.

As the guards stick very close to the king, Martin hangs behind him for a moment staring at the dingy cells hatefully. As he picks up his cane to follow His Majesty and his host, but he then stops on his tracks as his eyes flutter wide open and he whips his head back towards the gladiator's cell. He stands there for a moment staring into it, peering around wildly as if he sensed something he hadn't in a long time. He leans into the cell bars looking straight at the long haired Muriel. “You…Scourge.”  The tall man’s chains rattle a bit as his head moves and he green eyes look back from behind his disheveled unkempt long black hair. “… Anyone else in there with you?”

Muriel averts his eyes towards the floor without a word and with a single shake of his head, ‘no’.

“– Yoohoo~ Martin, my boy!!” The king shouts casually to his Chamberlin excitement returning to his voice. “… Come along! Luci here is going to show us some cheetahs and wolves!!”

“And lions!” Luico adds faintly followed by a small cough. “Umm.. my Lord.”

“Oooo~!! ANND Lions! Hee-hee-heee!!”

Martin’s eyes glance back over towards his party with an angry sneer then back at the tall gladiator and he glares back with his green eyes and a deep loathing seems to burst within him. At last, Martin released the bars and silently made his way down the hallway seemingly looking into every empty cell around as he left.

“Come along, you bloody ninny! You’re taking too damn long!!” The king whines.

“Apologies, Sire…”

Once all their voices dissipate, and the door to the cells shut once again, the long haired Muriel exhales hard, relaxing his entire body. 

Forgetting herself, Rhemi places her forehead on his low back as she feels herself getting woozy as she comes down from the surge of adrenaline.

 With her warm skull pressing against his spin unexpectedly, the gladiator very quickly releases her with a jolt and he blushes uncontrollably. He had forgotten how close she was to him. He sighs hard through his nostrils as he turns around, wanting to just be alone again. “…I…. I hid you…. N-Now get ou—” He stops mid word as watches her slump to the floor silently crying, her face in her hands and her knees to her chest like a little child, shivering uncontrollably. 

As the bear watches, he finds himself yet again wanting nothing more than to scoop her up into his arms to comfort her. Rhemi was terrified and sad, it is so difficult to just sit there and witness this with what he knows now. He takes a paw and reaches out for her, but feels the magnetic force field yet again.

The gladiator lets out another long sigh, grabs the basket full of food she had brought and he pretends to not notice her starting to hyperventilate. So he kneels, quietly eating, attempting to give the girl some dignity as she cries uncontrollably in the corner. After a while, the gladiator blindly hands Rhemi the linen napkin that rested at the bottom of the basket so she could wipe her wet face. “… Lucio’s gone now… Don’t need to be afraid–”

“–H- He’s.. no- not who I-I-...I’m—” She half shouts defensively as she picks up her head, but she suddenly stops herself. Seemling frustrated, she snatched the napkin from his hand and wiped away her tears. “Do—...Don’t you d-d-d-dare tell anyone a-ab-ab-about this…. P- pl-please.”

Silently, he nods his head in agreement as he turns back away from her. “... Now go—”

“Yeah… I know… but—Just…. Give me a minute, okay?” She says trying to still trying to soothe herself. “... I c-ca-can’t leave here like this. T-They’ll t-t-think you did something…”

“Fine…..” The man huffs, sheepishly adjusting his hips as he sits his ass on the ground. He wasn’t sure if she was lying just then or if she even cared about how the guards would think he'd done anything, but really it didn’t matter. She really wasn’t in any shape to leave anyways.

After a few minutes, she seemingly catches her breath and calms herself down enough to speak. She wipes her face and blows her nose with the napkin, as she finally stands to her feet, looking like she was feeling rather foolish. “T-.... thanks….”  She mumbles, her eyes and face still red.

Muriel just sits there silently, trying to act annoyed so she’d get the hint to leave. But her gaze seems to change as she watches him from behind sharing a piece of bread with a few mice.

“M-Maybe…. Y-…. You’re not as bad as I t-…t-thought.” She finally admits though her still shaky voice as she looks rather remorseful. 

Muriel doesn't remember this part so much, he thought she left immediately after Lucio came, but this seemed to be the clearest part of the memory.

He grumbles with a sad shrug. “…. No… just  as bad as you say… I kill to stay alive… That’s the worst kinda bad…”

Really regretting what she had said, she knelt down picking up the half bitten apple that the king threw at him. It was a perfectly good large expensive pink apple, looked to be imported, and he just threw it away. She strips away the piece that had the teeth marks with her magic and tosses it, and even divides the apple into slices. Walking back over to him meekly she handed him the now perfectly good apple, kind of like a peace offering.  “W-Whatever… I was just s-s-saying that s-sinced you helped me.” She says with a small grin and blushing, but only now did Muri see this.

The gladiator blinks a few times before accepting the apple, hoping that will be the end of it, but she unfortunately stays crouched down next to him digging a few rune symbols in the dirt. “I… I d-didn’t know that Asra felt that way about m-me.” Annoyed that she was still here, he doesn’t comment, he just sighs scooting away from her making his chains rattle and she frowns about feeling rejected and she furrows her brow again with a pout. “… Y-you’re still an idiot for n-not letting him know you love him.” She adds trying to lean into his gaze.

However, he does his best not to look at her as he turns away as his face turns pink yet again. “.... He… he knows I am not really good…. with….that sort of thing.” A rouge tear drips down and he catches it before she could see, and he abruptly stands to his feet clearing his throat and points to the cell door. “.... You can leave now.” He had no idea what made him say those things out loud, but they just poured out. And he was ready to be done with it all. This girl always made him feel so many different things, and he hated it all.

Rhemi can’t help but let out a chuckle with her eyes still a bit watery. “... As always, you’re a fantastic c-conversationalist.” She mutters sarcastically before calling over the guard to let her out. As she waits for the guard, she rests her head on the bars and she glances at Muriel one last time. “…. It’s not too late ya’ know. He should know the truth.”

“.... Doesn’t matter anymore… Probably gonna die here.” His eyes darken as he slumps back to the stool. He really did mean that, and she could feel it.

Rhemi frowns a bit again. Maybe there was more to this gladiator than just being the Scourge of the South, and maybe him being here wasn’t even his choice. “... Maybe not to you… But I’m sure he’d wanna know.” Silence still falls on the black haired gladiator, only the rattling of the chains can be heard as he shrinks into himself. Finally as the guard returns with keys in hand, he unlocks the door and it swings open making it squeak. She steps out and the guard shuts the door quickly, still afraid of the man behind the bars. She shoos the guard off again and stands there hesitantly for a moment with her back against the cell before turning her head slightly. “.... Take care, Blanket-boy… And.. maybe… don’t die here, okay?” 

Muriel just can’t believe he didn’t remember this last part. Perhaps then he was too tired, or perhaps he partly dissociated at the time. He did remember how cold and completely visceral she was at the start, but now he sees that she was just being protective to her friend. Really, she only met well. How was she supposed to know what was really happening? Muriel and Asra sure didn’t, so why would she?

As the memory seems to end, the old Muriel disappears and the fox and bear waited for the lights to go out just like the other memories, but nothing was happening. Eventually they heard a strange humming sound, and then they realized that Rhemi was still there, standing there motionless behind the other side of the bars. 

Suddenly her neck cracks loudly, contorting back around as she gazes straight at the two outsiders and she furrows her brow. The fox and the bear growl and yelp, stunned as she looks straight at them, the whites of her eyes were now completely bloodshot red, and the vessels in her face were broken and her skin was a sickly yellow. “Long time so see…” She mutters as ash expels from her lungs. A large smoldering bird morphs from her ashes and spills out of the memory and she flaps her wings hard, making the fox and bear tumble out of the room.

Trying their best not to cough from her pungent smell of death, fox and bear are ejected out of the hallway. The dead Rhemieliia shifts back into her human(ish) form as the door shuts closed behind her. For a moment she stands there looking rather annoyed at the door, trying as she might, the door wouldn’t lock back and she sighs defeatedly. “Damn kid…” She mutters irritably as she then turns her attention back to the two guests. “Took ya’ long enough, Bear-boy!…” The bear growls and grunts a bit annoyed with her all over again. She sent them into this crazy world, and didn’t meet them at the door. What did she expect? The bear just shakes his head and snorts, frustrated with the lack of communication, and she just tilts her head and thinks a bit. “Hmmm…” She mumbles. “Yeah, these forms aren't gonna work for me…” She says as she places her pointer finger into the crown on his forehead and she summons a bit of sooty magic. Suddenly, Muriel shifts back into his human form, wearing the same clothes he was even wearing that day. Satisfied, she smiles finally looking relieved. “That's better, huh, Blanket-boy?” 

Muriel looks at his changed form completely flabbergasted, only his father was able to make him shift forms before. “How? I didn’t think that I could–”

The past Rhemi opens her arms and gestures all around the manor. “This is Rhemi’s deep self consciousness, and this has been my realm for almost four years. So… I can change things if I want.” Her eyes then look to the unlocked doors, the dilapidated hallway and to her own form she shrugs with a small pout and scratches her face. “Well… Some things…”

The hermit then glances all around looking at the endless doors, it all starts to make sense now. Of course this was her self-consciousness, it didn’t feel like a dream realm and it didn’t feel like the real world either, because it was neither. This was her mind… That would explain the organization then. 

Muriel looks back at the woman’s sickly face and a torn expression washes over him. He wasn’t sure how to feel at this moment, on one hand, he wanted to take her into his arms and hug her tightly, but on the other hand, this Rhemi wasn’t his. He just glances to the ground sheepishly and rubs his opposite arm with his hand. “Sorry we’re late…” He finally mutters still wanting to hold her.

She rolls her eyes but keeps a smile, she knew how he must have felt confused about everything including her. But she was obviously relieved he was here, and she pats his arm kindly, silently thanking him. As she finally turns her attention to the fox her smile fades and she gawks at the purple eyed creature looking somewhat terrified. She leans into Muriel and whispers, “Why… Why is he here?” 

The Mountain Man quickly glances at this confused fox friend, then he realizes this was the version of Rhemi before coming back to life. Last time this version of Rhemi got into a huge fight with Asra, and they never got the chance to resolve it in person after he left Vesuvia during the plague. So no wonder this was difficult for the two of them. “He… He wanted to help… He insisted.”

The fox stares at her with such sadness in his eyes, he never saw her like this before. She had to suffer alone, and she looked like she was so tired. The past Rhemi inhales a deep breath and her left hand starts to crumble, she quickly catches the falling ash and hastily repairs herself looking rather embarrassed. The fox just whines a bit more and sinks into himself watching her falling apart like this. All he wanted for so long was to see this version of her, and now that he does, he feels this enormous sense of guilt. It was clear that she should have moved on a long time ago.

Finally, the dying Rhemi trundles over to the fox and she kneels down in front of him with a wary smile. She places her hand on his little jawline and he leans into her touch. Hesitantly, she places her opposite fingers on his forehead to make him shift into human form.

As Asra turns back to his human self, he stays sitting on his knees as he stares at the ghost of his childhood love. “Rem?” He murmurs horsley, still having her right hand on his face and he holds her wrist sweetly. 

She still smiles through her sad painful expression looking slightly nervous as she replies, “Hi-ya, Asra...” She whispers, not sure what else to say.

With tears streaming down his face, he quickly throws his arms around her shoulders hugging her tightly. She stiffens for a moment, afraid of her pungent smell or her ash leaving him a mess, but he doesn’t seem to even care and he chokes in his words. “I’m so sorry, Rem. I never should have left you.”

She relaxes her shoulders, then returns his embrace, holding him tightly back. “Sorry I made you both come here…”

Asra pulls away and looks straight into her eyes, shaking his head and wiping the tears away with his forearm. “You know we’d do anything for you.”

She smiles bittersweetly as a tear falls from her eyes and it sizzles as it touches her crumbling cheek. But then with determination washes over her sad expression, she stands to her feet and pulls Asra up as well. “Wel… Come along you two… your Rhemi needs your help.” She says letting go of her friend and she stands to her feet and walks down towards the hallway, deeper into the manor. 

Muriel and Asra start to follow behind her, passing many doors awkwardly feeling like there was something that needed to be said. Now that the two friends are back in their normal forms and able to talk, the magician has so much on his mind, but as he glances up to his friend, the hermit keeps his eyes away from him.

“Muriel, I…I—” he starts but he starts walking a bit faster in a huff. Asra’s brow lowers knowing that he was being avoidant, and just sprints up to him so he could catch up with him. “Can… Can we talk about what happened in there??” 

“… No.” Muriel sharply replies with a hard grumble, eyes still focused on the past Rhemi’s head.

“Wha–.... Why not?”

“… Is that even important anymore?”

“It is to me!!” Asra shouts somberly yet persistent, his hands pointing onto his chest as it still seemed to ache.

Muriel finally stops in his tracks, his shoulders drop and he cocks his head back, already tired from this conversation, but he knew there wasn’t any way to avoid it. 

Asra stops alongside him and he sheepishly rubs his upper arm with his opposite hand. “Muri—I… I didn’t… I never… I.. I don’t even know where to start….” He then runs his fingers through his white messy hair. “But… it was so obvious—”

“–Asra… Look…” Muriel says with a grunt pinching the bridge of his nose. “… I haven't …. felt that way in a long time… Besides, I’ve changed….We’ve all changed… a lot–”

“I know… I know that, but–” Asra smiles, hiding the pain behind his eyes. He struggles as he continues his confession having frequent pauses mid sentence. “Regardless. Looking back… I think I already knew that… You felt that way… yet I chose to say nothing. I… I even may have used it to my advantage to bring Rhemi back to life–”

“I know you did…” Muri blurts out before he can stop himself. Asra just stands there very still like a board. His tall friend’s cheeks stain red, not out of embarrassment, but deep seeded anger and hurt. “...I-I’m... Not stupid.”

Horrified at his own actions, Asra’s face twists in a sad expression. “When did you–?”

“ …As soon as I saw her being resurrected…” He admits sadly. “.. And after I made my deal…”

“And you still..?” Muriel’s emerald eyes pierce down the white haired magician with a long suffering look. Asra, glances down to the ripped up carpet below his feet and shakes his head regretfully. “I-… I’m sorry, Muri. I know how it feels when your feelings aren’t reciprocated. And you did so much—“

“Asra—“ he interrupts, letting out another frustrated sigh. “I-… I will always deeply care for you… And I got over it. But that wasn’t the only thing… You also weren’t…” He pauses for a moment trying to collect the right words and his face softens. “... You weren’t there for me. Took me a long time before I realized it… I was always there for you, but you… you didn’t always do the same…And that… wasn’t fair…” 

The magician shrivels into himself, his chest feeling so heavy, but he knows that it’s all true. He wasn’t always the best version of himself, especially after Rhemi died. After her death, he became obsessed with bringing her back to life, but once he succeeded, she just wasn’t the same. He didn't think that was even going to be a possibility. Then all he did was spend his time trying to find ways to revert her back to her old self. But slowly he came to the hard concussion that the old Rhemi he knew and loved just wasn’t coming back. For three years, he didn’t appreciate the people who bloomed in front of him. Rhemi was different, but she was just as special, just much softer than her previous self. Muriel was also becoming more reclusive, and if he was just there for him, perhaps things would have been different. Nadia was asleep for nearly three years and didn’t remember anything because of him. He regrets all the time wasted, and he really should have been all alone after all he’d done. If Julian wasn’t so persistent, he could have lost him too, then he really would have been alone. Really, back then, he was a bad friend, and they all suffered for it.

Muriel takes in a large breath as he tries to continue seeing the pain in his friend's eyes. “... Maybe in another lifetime we could have worked… but–” He shakes his head, not finishing that thought. “But... I deserved more than that. And Rhemi… Rem was there for me, and saw me–She made me feel like… Like I was important... She made me feel like I could have a better life.” He looks towards the ghostly version of his lover and shakes his head. “... You kept chasing after the person who wasn’t here anymore … and I… I fell in love with the person who was already there...”

Asra nods slowly and he chokes up a bit again. “You're right…” He says as he grabs his friend’s wrist apologetically and places his hand on top of his. “I’m sorry, Muri…. I’m sorry that I hurt you. And you are right. You did deserve better… I’m… I am just so sorry I never told you that you did… And… I am so happy that you and Rhemi found each other. I wasn’t lying when I said that you both fit together. I loved her… And I still do… But…I love that you two are happy… I.. I don’t think I could give either of you what you deserved.”

“... I know you never meant to hurt me… But… I still appreciate your apology. I know I don’t always show it… but it does mean a lot.” Muriel fights a smile as he glances over to the old Rhemi as she continues to walk down the hallway, seemingly searching for a particular door. Realizing the task at hand, he takes his Asra’s shoulders firmly as he stares deep into his eyes. “...Asra, I know you wanna talk about this more… and we can.. later… But right now we need to find Rhemi.” 

“Right…” Asra says with a small smile as he places his hand over his friends. At that moment he felt so proud of Muriel. He had really grown into his own skin and it took him such a long time to do so. But he was right, they could hammer this all out later. The truth still stings so deeply after watching that memory it was like all of his failures were being thrown back into his face. But right now, it didn’t matter. This wasn’t about him. This was about Rhemi. 

“... You two coming or what?” The ghostly Rhemi mumbles with her very sickly raspy voice, as she waits by a door tapping her foot and folding her arms tightly. This door was a mossy green and gray slightly burnt, but one of the most pristine so far. 

“Yeah! We’re coming!!” Asra replies, stifling his tears and wiping his face.

As he turns to follow along, Muriel reaches out for his shoulder one again. “Wait…” 

Asra turns and out of nowhere, Muriel wraps arms around Asra giving him a quick but warm bear hug. Taken off guard by his affection, he pauses for a moment rather shocked, but then he squeezes back as hard as he could. Muriel still had a hard time saying it, but he was still happy to have him in his life. He still loved him, but just in a different way now. And in that moment, that's all that mattered.

 As the pair separate, Muriel straights up his gaze locked to the door as he walks hastily to the ghostly figure. Ready to enter whatever memory he had to go through next.

“...I’m coming, Beautiful.” 

✨To Be Continued…

[YEAHHHHH I tried to trim it down I really did. I'm sorry! This bitch is long af... And I even tried to hammer it out as much as I could, but it is what it is. LOL HOWEVER! I hope you enjoy this chapter regardless, and as always,.. ]

Thanks for reading my hot garbage!

[deceit-and-knowledge]

( Ooc: me thinks Vanilla may have gotten tail feathers? )

*Then anon shifted a bit in place, letting the argument happen. Again, not their place to meddle... Not unless it went off rails at least, but there was an attempt of understanding.*

... Mage Truthless, if I may... Voices aren't that easy to ignore. Just as anxiety, depression and self loathing isn't easy to ignore either. - Umbrella Anon

ooc: heheeheheheheeheh

t: I know, I have all that too.. it's just.. I learnt that all they are is my own worries and insecurities..

They make me doubt myself and hurt my head.. but I'm trying to teach others that's all they are. Nothing but useless self loathing drabble in your mind.

[justatiredghost]

20 Fanfic Author Questions

thank you so much to the lovely @princessraptor for tagging me!!

How many works on AO3?

66

2. Total AO3 word count?

483,350

3. Top 5 by kudos

I don't know if I can really consider these my most popular considering the biggest fandom won out lol. 

Fixed to the Timeline - Umbrella Academy - Dave is saved and he gets brought to the future where he has to adapt 

Too Much - Umbrella Academy - oneshot - Klaus isn’t used to what he has with Dave 

Unsolved Academy - Umbrella Academy - Dave gets brought to the future where he and Klaus start a ghost hunting tv show similar to Buzzfeed Unsolved/Ghost Files which was the inspiration lol

Worth the Risk - Dragon Age Inquisition - a bunch of oneshots for Dorian/the Inquisitor

Haunted - Umbrella Academy - oneshot - Klaus tells Dave he can see ghosts

4. What fandoms do you write for?

Right now, just Magnus Archives

5. Do you respond to comments?

Sometimes? I feel really bad because I don’t want anyone to think I’m ungrateful, but I have a lot of anxiety around this and I feel silly bothering people with just a “thank you.” I also worry it inflates my comment count which messes with sorting I think? And I don’t want it to seem like I’m trying to force my fics to appear higher in searches. Am I the only one on earth who worries about this? Probably!

6. Angstiest ending?

I don’t know, as angsty as a fic is, I usually write happy endings. I guess the Umbrella Academy fic Redemption maybe? It’s a short one that’s just Klaus thinking about his relationship with his family. I wrote one Dragon Age Inquisition Dorian POV fic where the Inquisitor dies, but I don’t think I ever posted it to ao3.

7. Fic with the happiest ending?

What counts as happiest? As far as tonal shifts, I guess the post-canon Magnus Archives fic Collapse into You, since it’s mostly about Jonathan Sims dealing with his self loathing and trying to make a life with Martin. But if we’re talking about fics that are already fairly light hearted, maybe Unsolved Academy.

8. Do you get hate?

I write ace characters, so yeah. I don’t know if I can go back to my old Dragon Age fics, I don’t feel like I have a right to after all the drama. It’s kinda refreshing getting to write for a canon ace character

9. Do you write smut?

I’ve dabbled, but not really. It just isn’t my thing. I think I maybe have three posted anonymously lol good luck finding them

10. Do you write crossovers?

Not really, although there’s a few ideas in my WIP folder

11. Ever had a fic stolen?

No

12. Ever had a fic translated?

I don’t think so? 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Kinda? @thelightofthingshopedfor and I wrote a Legend of Zelda themed game for a game jam, she did the majority of the writing for it. The game didn’t get finished, but we didn’t want to lose the script, so we posted it to AO3. 

14. All time favorite ship?

Atm Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood or just Jonathan Sims/happiness lol

15. Wips you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Tbh I hate that I’ve left any fics unfinished. I don’t know that they have an audience anymore, and I know how they end, so I don’t know if I have the drive to finish them, but I still plan to try. I probably feel the most guilty about Living for the Moment and Fixes to the Timeline.

16. Writing strengths?

I don’t know, fluff I guess? Maybe conveying emotion? That’s mainly what I have been focusing on practicing anyway. 

17. Writing weaknesses?

Pretty much everything else haha

18. Thoughts on mixed language dialog?

No real thoughts as I only really speak one language 

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Lol I think it was Star Wars the Old Republic 

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Tbh it’s probably a cop out naming the fic I’m currently writing, but No Freedom from Knowing is one I actually enjoy going back and re-reading, which I often struggle with. It’s also re-sparked my excitement for writing and I’m really enjoying working on it. It probably helps that there are some lovely and encouraging people who seem to like it!

Second is probably Unsolved Academy bc I am proud of the concept and the fact that I was able to finish it considering it was really out of my comfort zone writing mostly humor. 

tagging @thelightofthingshopedfor and @doriansbutt if you would like!

[loosesodamarble]

Hiya Erika!

Can I get 🌂 and🍀 for Dusk, Varg and Cal please? ^^

Oh ho ho! Hello there, Laura! The young gentlemen of my next gen are getting some attention thanks to you, I see!

..........

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Dusk: If I had to name a genre for Dusk, I'd say he belongs in a high fantasy adventure. I know Black Clover's world is already a fantasy but it's a shounen fantasy world. I'd want to put Dusk in a fantasy world more like a Disney movie, or visual novels like Cinderella Phenomenon and Radiant Tale. They're less gritty without completely losing any sense of edge, and there's hope practically baked into the world.

Varg: Put this young man in an action comedy like Spy x Family this instant. He's got the thrill-seeking drive to take intense action and his enjoyment of mischief means he's more than willing to contribute to absurd and improbably situations that would make an audience laugh.

Caelum: Romantic comedy. His fear of romance and being an incorrigible flirt the way his dad used to be is full of potential when put in a setting where love and comical mishaps are demanded! While Dawn is blissfully admiring Caelum, Cal is in the midst of a crisis. He'd be trying to confess in a way that gets through Dawn's thick skull while also not sounding utterly hokey and derivative.

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Dusk: Well, when considering children for Josele and Nacht, I always knew I wanted to give them twins. Because I like to think that twins run in the Faust family. There's no escaping them. And I wanted one of Nacht's children to be similar to the father while still being distinct. Dusk looks like Nacht, has the same attribute, and is also doubtful of his relationships with others and runs away from his feelings. But where Nacht's hides his worry behind a cold exterior, Dusk's anxieties are on full display. Nacht having a son he sees himself in while the son still is his own person is the idea that inspired Dusk.

Varg: I just really loved the idea of a good and upstanding guy like Morgen somehow raising a kid that acts more like Nacht's delinquent self, irreverent and untamed. However, Varg's cheeky behavior isn't an act to hide any self-loathing (that's how I interpret Nacht's delinquent phase, at least). He genuinely does like mischief when it's within reason. Plus, Varg ain't afraid to show the goodness he learned from his father. Overall, Varg is inspired by my desire to see a character that is a fun blend of Nacht's bad boy and Morgen's good boy exteriors from their youths.

Caelum: Caelum, like Dusk, was inspired by the thought of giving Finral a son that he is similar and dissimilar to. Caelum isn't a golden boy, just like how Finral was unfavored, but Cal lucked out on getting parents and a younger brother that support him no matter what. And when it comes to contrast, Finral got flirty way too easily while Caelum avoids flirting like the plague even when he knows he only has eyes for Dawn.

[mindfulpathways]

Balancing Parenthood and Personal Growth: A Journey Through Procrastination, Coaching, and Healing

Balancing the demands of parenthood with the pursuit of personal growth can feel overwhelming. This is my story of grappling with procrastination, navigating coaching experiences, and embarking on a journey of healing and self-improvement.

Struggles with Procrastination:

There are times when I find myself entangled in the web of AI tools for my Shopify store, completely losing track of time and neglecting essential activities like eating. This obsession often leaves me unproductive and frustrated. For example, I can spend hours engrossed in these tools, only to realize later that I haven't accomplished anything significant. This cycle of unproductivity fuels my feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt.

Despite having access to numerous resources and courses, I struggle to maintain focus. Today, it’s already afternoon, and I need to pick up my children. Although I've done some tasks, the critical business goals remain unmet. This ongoing battle with productivity exacerbates my self-doubt, making it hard to break free from the cycle.

Navigating Parenting Challenges:

Being a parent adds another layer of complexity to my daily struggles. The guilt of not dedicating enough quality time to my kids is ever-present. My daughter, for instance, suffers from severe separation anxiety, stemming from past threats made by her mother. Each day, she waits by the door, anxious and fearful, underscoring the impact of our tumultuous past on her sense of security.

Balancing parental duties with personal ambitions is no easy feat. Often, I find myself neglecting basic needs or responsibilities due to my focus on work, which in turn makes me question my effectiveness as a parent. The constant worry about my children's well-being and my ability to provide a stable environment is a heavy burden to bear.

Coaching and Personal Growth:

The path to personal growth has been marked by my interactions with various coaches, each offering different insights and challenges. One coach’s overly warm demeanor left me questioning her authenticity, while another’s confident, almost aloof approach made me feel I needed to prove my commitment.

These coaching experiences have been a double-edged sword. While they have provided valuable guidance, they have also highlighted my insecurities and lack of direction. The questions posed by a Tony Robbins coach, for example, forced me to confront the harsh reality of my fears—failing to pursue my goals could lead to deep regret and self-loathing.

Healing from Trauma:

My journey is deeply intertwined with overcoming past traumas. I am proud to have maintained sobriety from crystal meth since 2008, yet I continue to grapple with other compulsive behaviors. Techniques such as somatic experiencing, developed by Peter Levine, have been crucial in my healing process, helping me build confidence and process lingering traumas.

Recovery is ongoing and challenging. Despite my progress, financial worries and fears of failing to secure a stable future persist. ADHD complicates matters, as I often forget important tasks, adding to my anxiety. Nonetheless, the pursuit of somatic healing has given me a renewed sense of hope and direction.

Financial Anxiety and Future Planning:

Financial stability remains a significant concern. My $35,000 savings are dwindling, consumed by living expenses and efforts to create meaningful content. The fear of not completing a $7,000 e-commerce program haunts me, as does the daunting task of selecting product suppliers for my business. Why do I skip checking out the next possible program? Sigh

Building a sustainable business feels like a monumental task fraught with financial risks. The anxiety over potentially exhausting my resources and the constant pressure of financial management weigh heavily on me. The added challenge of dealing with ADHD, which often leads to forgetfulness, exacerbates these fears and stresses. Just another steam of consciousness

[jimothysomebody]

Recovering From Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome

It's difficult to gauge exactly where to start, considering the many nuanced factors that lead me here. For awhile it felt like I was dealing with some wretched mystery ailment. After my breakup there was a period of time where money was tight and I wasn't eating well, in part because money was tight and in part because of a long struggle with self image, self loathing, and just a warped and unhealthy perspective of myself. What a stupid, stupid thing it was to subject myself to that degree of harm and malnourishment. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

In late March, somewhat coinciding with my old vape pen breaking, I began to feel a bit unwell and I wasn't sure why. Brainfog, difficulty concentrating and remembering, poor sleep (and that's saying something) headaches, strange dizzy spells and a weird feeling in my head, unusual episodes of elevated anxiety, stress, and depression beyond what is 'normal' for me, stomach issues, changes to my appetite, fatigue, apathy. Some days were better than others, some days were hell, other days I may have one awful episode and be otherwise fine the rest of the day, sometimes a day or so would pass without incident at all and I'd feel totally normal.... but these terrible symptoms kept coming back

Initially I believed it to be the lingering effects of having been anorexic from early February to the beginning of April... but April, May and now most of June have come & gone... and these symptoms have persisted.... what else could it have been?

I figured, outside of the extreme episodes of anxiety, the most likely cause was the effects of tapering off of, and eventually quitting weed. The conclusion I drew was that, surely, I must be experiencing Post Acute Withdrawal Syndrome, brought on by increased use of medial grade weed and an increased vaping of delta 8 around this time. It was also my theory that because I didn't do it daily, just used a *lot* every few days or on weekends, that my inconsistent pattern of high dose usage was keeping me in a state of withdrawal that wouldn't stop until I made myself quit. My preferred method was vaping, but I began with edibles July of 2023... for nearly a year my already chemically imbalanced brain became accustomed to a regular supply of THC, surely... surely the cessation of cannabis would have put my brain in a state of crisis and rebellion as it attempts to reset the dials back to my “normal”, right? Much of the literature I read seemed to validate my worries, between credible medical publications from all over, the US, Canada, Australia, the UK, I poured over the findings and data of medical professionals and everything seemed to point to that... what has now worried me the last 42 days I've been sober was the fact that, for most, they seem to be through the worst of it within 2wks to a month... but still I contend with these symptoms. Maybe...just maybe, I was too hopeful and by some twisted hellish coincidence I was, unknowingly, affected by something more dire... there are many, many far more life threatening conditions that share many of those symptoms in common... and that thought has come and gone since March... Friday afternoon I finally humored my paranoia that told me to stop toying with my mortality and went to the ER to get checked out.

They drew blood, did urinalysis, an EKG, chest xrays, and a CT scan of my head, every test came back normal, nearly everything was ideal, save for what results have been effected by a recent brief regimen of prednisone to help with my tenosynovitis (which also significantly improved my withdrawal symptoms)... and in the sea of test results even those *slightly* abnormal results didn't bother me, knowing exactly what caused them.

The test results have given me a lot of peace of mind... I now know definitively, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that what I am experiencing does not have a physical cause... it is instead chemical as my brain tries to regulate itself back from a year of a lot of vaping and edibles. I do not have brain cancer, any brain damage, any debilitating neurological condition, internal bleeding, blood clots, nor do I have any heart or lung condition. No abnormalities were detected... It's just withdrawal, and I can get through this. I've been tempted to vape, a few times. I miss having a mild high, but mostly I miss the relief that comes with it for my anxiety, my depression, ptsd, mild pains, etc. There hasn't been any strong compulsion or urge to use again, in fact not unlike my alcohol I still have (almost 7 months sober now) my vape pen is in plain sight just on my bedside table, where it has, literally, been collecting dust since May 12th. I have had one or two dreams about weed/vaping though, which I suppose isn't a totally unheard of sort of dream to have for people quitting.

I'm set to see yet another therapist soon in July, and shortly thereafter, I imagine, another doctor. I'm not sure what the plan of attack will be, considering the chemical imbalance is now influenced by quitting weed. In the past I've seen a lot of success with SSRI's like sertraline/Zoloft, in treating my depression, with some positive changes to my anxiety as well, it'd certainly simplify things to be on just one med but I'm not optimistic that will be the case, nor do I don't know just how effective sertraline would be while recovering from PAWS... I do know this much, compared to how I felt in April I feel, generally speaking, significantly better. I do still experience all the symptoms I've described but to a lesser degree and with less frequency and diminished duration compared to how I had been previously... it is my belief that, with time and resolve I will make a full recovery from this horrid months long trial. I really think I'm gonna be okay.

[riddle-me-ri]

Ri, you are cute and you create pleasant vibes. You don't have to reply to this message, I just want you to know that someone likes you

Awww that's so sweet anon! Thank you! I'm glad I create pleasant vibes!

As someone with anxiety that's riddled in self doubt and self loathing...its always nice to hear that people like you lol. Especially since I'm always worried that I somehow in any way shape or form come off as intimidating lmao which I assure you I'm the least intimidating person, I'm so socially awkward and dorky it's unreal lol

[thoughtcrimes89]

Hormones really got me today…

This is supposed to be a time of joy, a celebration of new life, but sometimes I find myself grappling with a reality that feels far more complex. Standing in front of the mirror, I see my reflection shifting in ways that evoke both awe and discomfort. My body, once familiar and reassuring, now feels like a foreign landscape. The curves that used to define me have reshaped into something that causes anxiety, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m losing a part of myself.

I know I should be grateful for this new life growing inside me, overflowing with anticipation and excitement, yet I can’t help the feeling of self-doubt creeping in. Each stretch mark and change in my figure seems to whisper of inadequacy, filling me with shame. I want nothing more than to celebrate my pregnancy, but instead, I find myself wrestling with feelings of self-loathing that eclipse the joy I know I ought to feel.

There’s an unspoken expectation that accompanies this journey—that I should revel in the beauty of it all. Whenever I allow myself to dwell on the insecurities I’m fighting, I feel utterly isolated. It’s as if I’m alone on an island of conflicting emotions, even though those around me are eager to share in the joy of impending motherhood. Yet sometimes I secretly find myself feeling disconnected, quietly mourning the loss of my former self while trying to embrace this new role.

Yet, deep within, I hear a gentle plea—recognizing that my worth is not tethered to how I look. Each line on my belly is a story, a testament to the life I’m nurturing. In the whirlwind of emotions, I yearn to see the strength woven into my being, even when self-doubt casts a long shadow.

There are precious moments when I feel a profound connection to my partner and my baby, transcending the physical changes. In those times, I let go of my worries and surrender to the intimacy we share, discovering that true beauty lies not in what’s visible but in the bond we’re forging together. Even so I still struggle with my self-image; it’s a challenge to remain anchored when my perception of myself shifts with every passing day.

Embracing these changes is complex and challeging. I remind myself that it’s a continual practice, a journey of recognizing the beauty that exists within the chaos. I’m learning to hold space for both the anticipation of motherhood and the raw, authentic struggle that accompanies it. Accepting that it’s okay to feel conflicted allows me to gradually illuminate the path toward joy.

Navigating this landscape of change is bittersweet, but I see that within my vulnerability lies immense strength. I’m discovering that the spirit within me—unyielding and fierce—remains a constant even when my body transforms. Embracing the flaws and irregularities of my physical self becomes a gateway to deeper acceptance, transforming my experience of motherhood into something more profound. In the dance between struggle and love, I find the potential for growth, both as an individual and as a parent. Through it all, I am beginning to breathe in the beauty of this moment—the gentle embrace of life, the quiet strength of nurturing, and the boundless love that awaits me on the other side.