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sophiapathic · 3 years

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Sk8: The Infinity - A Take on Love

Because my six unfinished assignments can wait until I throw this into the void, scream for five hours and after my voice gets hoarse, I resort to watching the beach episode on loop until next Saturday.

This was entirely sparked by the recap episode, which really pressed the reak havoc and theorize button in my brain. I am truly losing my grip on reality. Help. I apologize in advance, creatures of Tumblr.

Me right now:

Anyways...

I saw people mention here and there screaming that “we need canon relationships and they will get trust issues if a romance isn’t confirmed by the end of the series”. I think that mindset is harmful to have in this case. You can’t really avoid being disappointed if you get into the series expecting it to deliver on your wishes of gay romances. So, this might be controversial, but stay with me please. The anime and manga are both confirmed to be based primarily about the characters themselves and of course the sport -skating. I was hoping to take a closer look at what the series intends to do with certain dynamics and relationships according to yours truly. I also want explain my reasoning behind it not being queerbaiting, though it being inherently queer-coded, through the current lense of the canon.

Sk8: The Infinity is unquestionably a love story.

We need to state the genres this series is in, because some of us tend to forget. It is in fact not a shounen-ai, not a yaoi, not a romance, not even a josei. Say it with me it is a series in: COMEDY and SPORTS.

(Source is the official US Sk8 website.) The spotlight is udoubtedly on skating and what it means. Another important highlight of the show is how the definition of the sport relates to the characters, and how vastly different they are from what we expect. For example, when we see Shadow first, we pigeonhole him into this vulgar indecent rock and roll persona, only to find out later that he is actually a stweetheart at a flower shop. Joe is another very good case study. When we first see him we think of him as a womanizer muscle-head, later we find out he has a heart of gold and is very emotionally intelligent. We’re also quick to judge Miya as the cold, unfeeling prodigy then we discover how lonely and normal he is on the inside. And so on and so on.

The show continues to defy our expectations of what each character should be like. In a way it is about breaking the conventional stereotypical roles we subconsciously assign to certain looks. We see that even in anime, multifaceted characters can exist without distrupting or damaging the delicate dynamics of a traditional sports anime. We successfully established the second focal point of the series as disproving stereotypes and presenting strong, diverse and unexpected personalities.

How about the defition of skating? What does it mean in the context of Sk8: The Infinity then? Where does a love story come into the picture? Skating is repeatedly described as a ritual of love within the anime, an idea that our villian, Ad*m, is obessed with. In a sense skating is a language of love canonically.

Then skating itself is love. Throughout the series we see varied styles of skating therefore different ways of expressing love, affection. We get to experience several metaphorical ways of “being in love” through characters skating with each other. Each dynamic shows us a type of love. Healthy, disfunctional, outright abusive.

The way Reiki teaches Langa to skate can be interpreted as a direct metaphor for someone learning to love again after losing a person close to them. Langa’s father has died and Reiki literally brings him out of his shell again. It can also be interpreted as a queer kid’s experience of a world of romance that feels similar to his previous one, that being snowboarding, yet it still being new and different. Skateboarding. When due to Reiki Langa’s potential is discovered and his hunger for more and more develops, especially next to Ad*m, Reiki’s main frustration stems from them not being well-matched or on equal footing anymore. He feels like he cannot give Langa what he needs anymore. Which would obviously go againts the literal description of a healthy romance. Two people with mutual respect who both bring equal assets to the table. He feels like he needs to catch-up to be with Langa again. The only thing he doesn’t consider is Langa’s deep appreciation of him and the fact that literally he was the one who helped Langa experince the feeling of love again.

Kojiro and Kaoru’s relationships, to me, is very much representative of two people wanting to be in each other’s presence, but due to their different language of love, miscommunicating horribly. Them bantering and insulting each other is the only way they know what to do with the other. The only way they can ensure the other’s attention and eyes are on them. This has worked so far. They are literal opposites, but both have a very clear definition of their form of love. To Joe skating, or love itself, is about the feeling and going with the flow. Being spontaneous. Whereas for Cherry, every move needs to be calculated and executed perfectly in order to be “efficient”. Their frustration comes from both wanting different things from the other, but not communicating their need properly. Despite this, they stick together due to a magnetic pull they obviously feel towards the other. The attraction is there, the trust is there, they are even well-matched in skill as we see them neck-to-neck constantly. They could give each other what the other wants. Only if they could express themselves well... This is why Joe pushes Reiki towards reconciling with Langa. he wants them to not fall into the same trap of not stating their needs and thoughts properly.

Now Ad*m and Langa are obviously problematic and I don’t really want to have to explain, honestly guys. I really don’t (since I have trauma regarding this subject), but I need to go into this a little bit. This is a textbook toxic predatory relationship. Where the older, twisted, damaged person, has an obsession with a young, outstading child. He wants to lead him into “Paradise” and show his “Eve” what love is really about. (Ain’t that disgusting you guys...) His form of love is inflicting pain, so I really can’t imagine a scenario where he and his “Eve” live happily ever after and everything is fine and dandy. He needs someone who he can torture. He literally is looking for someone who can handle his way of expressing affection, his “love hug”, who has the same type of crazy eyes for adrenaline and danger. His Eve. In his distorted mind, this all makes sense and Langa is that someone he was looking for thoughout the years. The problem is, he disregards Langa’s side where the relationship becomes problematic.

Cherry and Ad*m during their younger years seems to be a very innocent infatuation on Kaoru’s end. It is a one-sided relationship where someone is in love with the idea of a person long gone. They were discovering the world of skating, or the world of love together with Ad*m taking the lead. Cherry immediately became infatuated with him, wanted to learn his love language, wanted to be at the same level he was. It probably started very innocent. At first, Ad*m being gentle, because that’s how Tadashi was with him too, then after whatever happened between those two, Ad*m, disappointed in the way of love, or skating, Tadashi showed him, returned to what his aunts taught him. Maybe after injuring Kaoru with the “love hug”, therefore eliminating him from being his potential partner, started looking for his “Eve”, gradually became more agressive in love as in skating. Kaoru was distraught and wanted the Ad*m he originally learned love from back. Holding out some hope even years after. Trained to get used to his “love hug”, to literally condition himself to be able to get close to him. Ad*m, however showed Cherry brutally that he truly cannot handle his way of love.

Ad*m and Tadashi. *sighs* As of this post, I don’t really have enough information to give you a good overview of what I see this relationship representing. As far as I can tell Ad*m was abused horribly and to ease the pain and make him forget, Tadashi showed his another way of expressing affection. Skating or love. Basically a first love gone horrible bad, scarring an already abused child and turning them into a monster. Tadashi himself reinstates this during one of the episodes. It was his fault that Ad*m turned out the way he did. Their love slowly became strongly abusive throughout the years. Tadashi is stuck in it because he feels like he deserves it. This is a metaphor for dangers of an emotionally and physically abusive relationship, where one person feels responsible and the other is using power. Tadashi’s guilt keeps him next to his master and he even endures abuse, now he is trying to break out and show Ad*m he messed up and I think this could potentially be a good representation of how difficult that process truly is.

As far as Reiki’s, Miya’s, Shadow’s skating goes. Their main arc relating to love is first and foremost learning to accept themselves and aprecciating their uniqe way and style of skating. Only after can they become people who can truly be accomplished in love/skating (in Miya’s case I’m obviously talking about platonic feelings). Each of them had a preconception of their persona in love/skating, which gets questioned heavily throughout the series. Miya gets defeated, Shadow’s soft side gets discovered, Reiki... well. I get sad. :c Even though he taught someone to love again, to appreciate life again, he ended up discovering how dissatisfied he truly is with himself... These three all need to learn to love every aspect of themselves to reach fulfillment and to really experience healthy human relationships.

Sk8: The Infinity is unquestionably a love story, without explicitly being a romance, meaning that it is a tale about love, both romantic, platonic and everything inbetween through a queer-coded lens, showing both dysfunctional, abusive and healthy relationships, ways to express emotions and even delves into self-love and the idea of nature versus nurture in the villian’s case.

That is why I, personally don’t scream for a canon couple. To me, the show gets its main point about affection and love across, without making any of these relationships explicitly stated. Not to mention that it does justice to both of its assigned genres. Comedy and Sports as well. Yeah sure, I wouldn’t complain, but I think these dynamics are more than satisfying to watch, and much deeper than bishounens wanting to bang each other, which is, in my opinion, inherently sexualized. If they want, yeah they can confirm, make it canon without forcing it to be a center storyline. Hell, I would even be happy about it. I would clap with all of us. BUT, as the series currently is, I really see it taking the other route because of the above. This way audiences who want a yaoi or ikemen going at it, won’t be disappointed with the series when they find doesn’t revolve around that, straight viewers will just find it flamboyant, and people who look for subtext and want to read between the lines will certainly do that with the amount of crumbs and hints the writers gave us.

We don’t need outright, written in black and white gay representation in Sk8 to experience very real types of love. The queer theme is secondary to me, just like queerness is, in most people’s lives. Yeah sure, it is a big thing, but not the only attribute a person has. My life doesn’t revolve around my queerness. I rarely talk about it. If I was a main character this would be a side-arc. Just like Sk8 doesn’t revolve around the characters coming out. It’s just them living their lives and possibly being queer while doing so. If you look at it this way, it is almost normalizing attraction between same-sex people by just showing it as regular love. If you can, why not interpret it this way, so it can be a liberating experience instead of a disappointing one.

Please don’t attack me! I am fragile and this is only my opinion. c: *crawls back into her hole*

#sk8 cherry blossom #sk8 joe #sk8 the infinity #sk8 theory #sk8 langa #reiki kyan #langa hasegawa #kaoru sakurayashiki #kojiro nanjo #ad*m #tadashi #matcha blossom #renga #ranga #langa x reki #cherry blossom x joe #essay

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gemma-collins-ily · 3 years

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Jesper with s/o who really knows how to kick ass (aka sis was trained by someone)

Jesper with a Trained S/O

a/n - I love the pairing of Jesper and the pet name honey too much aaah. Also this was written over two nights when I was half asleep so forgive me if it isn't top notch xoxo 💗💝

Warnings: fighting, poison, bruises/cuts but no real mentions of blood or anything

Kaz obviously employed you because of how amazing you are at any type of combat

but when asked the specific reason, he had only responded with a cryptic answer that gave the Crows nothing

"They're an asset to the team. Just as all of you are."

you would train at extremely early hours of the morning, often seen jogging back up the stairs to your room drenched in sweat right when others first awoke

but no one knew what you were actually doing

until Inej caught you in the training room in the Slat, practically beating a punching bag

the funny thing was, you didn't look as though you were a street fighter, one who had developed their own adapted technique that would get them by in a scrap

your punches were calculated, muscles flexing in just the right way and stature perfect

it was the ideal stance for a real fight in a ring

she didn't say anything and instead decided to get up just a little earlier each day in order to observe you

she was caught when she let the door creak accidentally, but instead of kicking her out of the room you only offered to leave so she could use it

she refused and said she'd rather watch you

and she did from then on, you having no protest or apparent problem with it

sometimes, you'd go up against Inej and circle each other warily, not daring to underestimate the other

you had only been on a few low level heists with the Crows at that point, Kaz mercifully easing you into the work

but it was noticed by Nina that whenever it was necessary to run and hide, you could sprint with full stamina and hardly break a sweat unless it was done for a long amount of time

she also noticed your heart rate barely raised

she brought it up once

"Ugh, (Y/N), I'm so jealous, you literally must be super-human, how are you so energised?"

this was said through panting breaths as she bent to rest her hands on her knees, much like the others were doing

this meant in turn it wasn't really registered by anyone

only you

you didn't really mind people knowing you were trained in combat, but didn't flaunt it or let anyone know without them finding out

you would act casually when found out, downplaying your skills

everything was a threat in the Barrel, and saying one wrong thing near one wrong person could cost you your head

you hadn't stiffened when Nina said that, only nodding and grinning, leaning against the wall with your hands in your pockets yet not saying anything verbally

you knew how to play the game and in order to do that, you had to let them subconsciously dismiss the very idea itself

Albert Einstein iq I'm telling you

psychology at its very core

you know

it's all forgotten until they see your skills put to use on a heist

if you've watched now you see me 2 and watched the spectacular card sequence, the next part is basically that

your tactful hand at cards could beat Kaz Brekker himself

on the heist, you know one of Kaz's sacred backup plans

only one, mind you

so, it's like the card sequence

you're all going in as guests but you and Kaz will shoot the card with the information between you and your separate searches

"Hands the other way, ma'am."

Your hands flew the opposite way, palms now facing the guard as the card was quickly flipped between your fingers, and with a single, efficient flick of the wrist Kaz had it in his possession.

"Alright, on your way you go."

Jesper had only seen because he was stationed behind you, otherwise he never would have known it was so seamless

Nina told them later that kind of thing seemed to be a regular occurrence as your heart rate had been completely average

showing how confident you are, go bestie

it was true

you and Kaz had trained for that heist often however barely for any length of time at all

the best part for you was that you had been checking how noticeable it was and flipping the card back and forth between you in meetings

Jesper's eyes had widened comically when he observed the whole thing and his jaw dropped

you laughed as you stepped past and kissed his jaw, making it close promptly as he chased after you, desperate for answers

your cards can also be poisoned

and in another heist they doubted you

because they had seen you help pull something off but not use any as a weapon

you were motioned by Kaz to appear innocent until another signal was given, one of which only you and Inej had been paying attention to and so understood

but after you hissed at Jesper out of the corner of your mouth, he stayed subdued too

you remained eerily silent as they pushed you against the wall and searched your pockets

the cards were brought out and ridiculed, even if you had cleverly concealed knives, now you knew how you would kill these men

after the go ahead was given, you burst into action, swooping downward and catching the man holding you off guard

you collected the cards and grinned as you stepped back, now the front most Crow in your little pyramid formation at the end of the street

"And what are they gonna do?"

A malicious glint appeared in your eye as Jesper tapped your shoulder, thinking you had backed yourself into a corner here.

but then, your hand flew out and struck one clean in the eye, making them wail and drop to their knees as you flung another card, swiping a man's cheek

they did not fall until a minute later, that minute consisting of you whipping cards at them and Jesper tugging on your sleeve

he'd do that a lot, before he knew of your training and maybe after too

it wasn't that he thought you couldn't handle yourself, just that he wanted to protect you in any way possible

so pulling you behind him was a knee jerk reaction, desiring to save his loved one from any possible threat or danger

he would do anything for you, let a bullet pierce his chest, a dagger land in his throat, as long as you emerged okay

it was only later, when you got Kaz to pick up the cards, saying it would be easier to wash them with a cloth than learn how to balance the slightly differing weight of a new pack

you made Kaz do it because he had leather protection and knew of the poison darkening the edges of the cards to an inky black

they were kept in a special and specific packet so there was no possible way of you being hurt unless you were completely careless

that was completely unable to happen because you were wary enough to know what to do and what not to

but Jesper still insisted you left them in his coat after he found out, wanting you to be totally risk free

"What if you're not with me? How will I use my weapons?"

"Well, my darling, that will not be the case," he paused to snicker at his unintentional joke about the container then continued, "because Kaz will absolutely keep us together at all times."

You hummed thoughtfully, "How do you know that?"

There was an immediate answer, no moment of hesitation from your sharpshooter, "He simply can't handle how fantastically amazing I am on his own, knowing I am far superior and so will continue to pair us together to avoid having to face that foe."

"Jes, honey, he could partner you with Inej or Nina or Matthias, you know that, right?"

He was stumped and his mouth opened before closing once more.

the cards were still not handed back though

don't worry, new ones were purchased after Jesper insisted on 'clinging' to the other pack like a lifeline, according to Kaz

he did find out about this after you saved his ass in a fight with them

he was so mad, not that you'd defied him but that you had put yourself in danger with the cards

but after Inej pointed out he had to trust you at some moment in time, he softened

because how could you think he didn't trust you?

he didn't ever want you to have to answer that question and set about trying to rectify the situation

you received breakfast in bed and apology cuddles

"I trust you."

It was the mantra he had been repeating for days and you smiled as your hand came to rest upon his jawline.

"I know, darling. I know."

You were met with a soft kiss to your collarbone as his head dipped to fall into the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight but gentle hug.

He hummed before continuing, "Just wanted to make sure, honey."

the cards were left wordlessly on your bedside table, drawing a small sated smile from your lips

after he came to terms with the fact that you were a Dreg, a Crow, someone who would be targeted because you were entwined with him, he became just a little overprotective

not that you minded

just reassuring him often you were okay and he was too

after Wylan came along, you politely requested to know if he could make some kind of thing that would make the cards easier to collect

he came up with the idea of a magnetic substance that could be brushed over the centre of the cards, meaning if you kept one in your hand and waved it over the others, there would be no time delay in which you would have to pick them up

again

the added weight, even such a small increment, affected the momentum needed and angle necessary

for days, you were flinging your cards at a wall, barely stopping to eat, wanting to be useful

Jesper dragged you back to bed several times in the early mornings with coaxing syllables and sweet words, promises on how you would get it right tomorrow

"Sweetheart, just come back to bed. Wait a few hours and try again. You're so close to getting this. I just know it."

As you wrapped yourself in the comforter his hand came to stroke your cheek, "There you go, see, you were looking half asleep on your feet, doing yourself no good anyway, lovely. Or those cards."

when witnessing your physical combat skills, Jesper would let a surprised chuckle fall, not fully in control of himself

watching you flip an enemy who had underestimated you over your shoulder never got old

neither did seeing your boot swivel slightly on their chest as you proved just how skilled you were

awww such pure and innocent love

"Don't think I won't beat you in a fight again, Lion. Or there won't be another opportunity for you to."

"That's my partner!"

"Alright Jes, bit much but thanks for hyping me up."

Just as you turned and both of you were about to walk away, a cold and clammy hand clamped over your ankle and you instantaneously recoiled.

Then, before Jesper or the Dime Lion knew what was happening, your fist connected with his stomach, hand coming up to cover your false and exaggerated yawn.

"So cool." Was whispered from your sharpshooter as you stalked off, boots clicking on the gravel pavement.

he had forced you into a chair, begging you to let him take care of your now bruising knuckles and you begrudgingly agreed

"Wasn't so bad, huh?"

"Don't push it." Was the joking response as his arm slung over your waist, and his thumbs brushed over the bandage he had applied so carefully as his hand covered the one you had let hang at your hip.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling. Don't have the foggiest why you would assume such of me."

if you ever couldn't handle the entire situation and obtained an injury, Jesper would stay by your side

when a minor one, like a small gash on your forehead appeared, he would insist on personally caring for it

and if major, he would hold your hand, allowing you to squeeze it as hard as you wanted when the pain became too much

the same went for the other way round, you giggling at bandages wrapped all around his head like a bandana

but only after you knew he was alright

if tears filled your eyes, caused by relief, his thumb would come up to brush them away and slightly pull the corners of your mouth into a weak and wavering smile

"I'm alright. I'm okay, honey, you just remember that."

the both of you would press gentle goodnight kisses to each others foreheads or lips, forgetting a bruise or cut

this would end in frantic apologies and inevitable laughter when you kept speaking over one another

basically, Jesper thinks you're so badass, amazing and fantastic, reminding you just how highly he regards you everyday

you will protect him and he will protect you, no matter what

#jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey x you #jesper fahey fics #jesper fahey fluff #jesper fahey #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone x you #shadow and bone fic #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse x you #grishaverse fic #grishaverse #jesper fahey headcanons

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marvelouspeterparker · 4 years

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hi! since you're done with prof!tom (and thank you for writing all of those requests; you're awesome!) I was wondering if I could request something for mob!tom? where like reader has just given birth and has been given the 'okay' by her doctor to be intimate with tom again but because she's insecure about how her body has changed, she lies about it and tom finds out and decides to show reader just how much he still wants her; body changes and all?

––clearing out my inbox–– (requests are closed)

this turned out way longer than expected lol but i’m kinda proud of this one

warnings: smut

word count: 2k

"darling, you know i think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” his eyes were looking into yours, making sure to get through to you. he placed his hands on your cheeks and you smiled sadly.

“you’re just saying that because you feel bad, tommy. it’s fine, i know i don’t look as good as i did before.” you tried to pull away from him but he wouldn’t let you.

his brows furrowed, “did someone say this to you? who was it?”

you could tell he was getting ready to fight, to do whatever he could to avenge you, but you quickly shut him down. “no, no baby, no one said anything.” he tilted his head, his eyes softening, almost asking in silent question, then why––

you sighed. “i just. my figure doesn’t look the same, my stomach is still a little big from the baby, my stretch marks are even bigger, and the list just goes on tom.” you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. “and i just don’t know if i’ll ever be able to look like i did before...” you looked up at him, your eyes starting to water. “when you fell in love with me.”

he could feel himself starting to crack a bit on the inside. he felt angry that you felt this way, that you could put such ridiculously judgmental thoughts in your head, even though it wasn’t your fault. but more than that, he was upset that he let you reach a point where you didn’t think he would love you anymore because of what you looked like.

he took your hands and brought you over to sit on the bed next to him, the both of you facing each other. “darling, i fell in love with you for way more than just your looks. i fell in love with you for your kind heart, your beautiful soul, your intelligent mind, and everything else i could possibly list off. i don’t care if you never look the way you did before, either because you physically can’t or because you just don’t feel like it. i love you for you. and i’m sorry that i let you feel this way, it’s absolutely killing me inside.”

his voice got quieter near the end and you brought your hand up to hold his jaw and he smiled at you. “even if you don’t think it, i believe that you are the most stunning woman ever. and all of those changes your body went through only show you how amazing you are, how powerful your body is to have grown a human life and pushed it out of you.” he let go of your hands and held your cheeks again, “you are incredible.” he pulled you in and kissed you gently. it wasn’t one of your usual kisses, but it was just as loving, it was reassuring and it was everything you needed.

a tear slipped from your eye as you pulled away, a small laugh escaping you. “oh, tom.”

“hey, hey,” he wiped the tear before it could get far. “no crying, okay?”

you bit your lip, nodding, your face still in his palms. “i just don’t know what i did to deserve you.”

he shook his head. “such a silly girl.” he tapped your nose playfully. “everything i do is the absolute least i could do for a perfect woman like you.” he kissed you again, this time deeper and you could feel the tension in the room shift.

he pulled away after a bit, looking at you as he spoke. “now i don’t want to rush you, love. but if you’re ready, i’d like to show you just how much i still want you and will forever want you no matter what.”

you nodded almost immediately. “i want you too, tom.”

he smiled, giving you a small peck, which turned into several, longer kisses as your hands unbuttoned his shirt. he took it off hastily, without breaking the kiss, then reached for his belt and threw it aside. you pulled away, making him whine but you just smiled and got up to help him take his pants off.

he stood up and reached for your shirt. “can i?”

instead of responding, you started to pull it off yourself, but he was quick to bat your hands away, making you gasp and look up at him.

“naughty girl,” he tutted. “told you i wanted to take it off.” you just smiled. it’d been a while since he spoke to you like that and you could already feel your head slipping into that intimate space again. it felt like home. he pulled the shirt off of you and his eyes roamed your chest. your breasts had gotten bigger during pregnancy but they were still very sensitive so he knew not to touch. he’d do fine with just staring for now. “fucking gorgeous, baby.”

“my eyes are up here, you know?” you teased.

his eyes shot up to yours as he licked his lips, a grin on his face. “oh i know.”

you just rolled your eyes in response. then he bent down and kissed your stomach, as he pulled your sweats down. your panties were not cute at all, but the hungry look in his eyes told you that he did not care. just as he reached for your panties you gasped suddenly, backing up one step. “wait––”

his eyes found yours immediately, trying to cool the fire in him as he became concerned. “what is it?” his hand reached for yours, his thumb rubbing your knuckles softly. “what’s wrong?”

you swallowed, suddenly nervous. “i just um––” his eyes were soft, patiently waiting for you to continue. “i don’t look––that good down there?” you laughed awkwardly. “uh i just, i started to shave but then i gave up cause it was too much work and i wasn’t really expecting this so it doesn’t look that pretty––”

tom stood up, his hand still holding yours, the other coming to hold the side of your face. “darling you just had a baby. i’m not expecting you to look all clean shaven for me. that would be ridiculous.” he kissed you gently. “just wanna make you feel good like you deserve. s’that okay?”

you looked at him before kissing him again, thankfully, a smile on your face. “yeah okay.”

he smiled but instead of getting back on his knees he led you to the bed and you lied down in the middle. he slipped his underwear off and climbed up on the bed, settling between your legs. he looked up at you once more, confirming that you wanted this before sliding your panties off. you spread your legs and his eyes locked in between them. he licked his lips subconsciously and the sight honestly gave you the ego boost you needed.

“can i taste you, lovie? gonna let me put my mouth back where it belongs?”

you nodded but that wasn’t enough for him. “forget your manners already, love? hasn’t been that long, come on.”

“please put your mouth on me tommy.”

his lips curved upwards as he lied down between your thighs. “of course. my girl gets everything and more, you know that.” he wasted no time, and used two fingers to spread you open, licking his way into you. he’d missed seeing you like this, being able to taste you and touch you the way you both loved. you let out a small oh and he pulled you in closer, dying to hear you again.

he placed his hands on your thighs gently, keeping you close as he let you grind your hips onto his tongue. he moved his head up and down with you, not wanting you to do all the work. he left long wet kisses on your pussy, his tongue languidly stroking your clit as he moved along with you.

your hands found their rightful place in his curls and he moaned into you, not realizing how much he’d missed that feeling. the sound of him enjoying himself only made you wetter, your pussy clenching around nothing. it didn’t take you long to reach your peak. “fuck that feels so good tommy––”

he sucked on your clit and you mewled. “that’s it. wanna watch you fall apart on my tongue baby.” his eyes were entranced as he watched you, your back arching the way he missed, your breath catching as a soft sigh escaped you, your hands pulling at his hair in the way that thrilled him. your thighs clenched around him, a gasp falling from your lips as your eyes fluttered shut. tom didn’t stop his movements, his lips still wrapped around you, his tongue lapping you up until you dropped back down on the sheets, your eyes opening slowly.

he pressed a kiss to your clit, then to your thigh, his eyes still watching you in awe as he sucked marks into your skin. when you calmed down, your hands pulled him up eagerly and he complied with no complaints.

you pulled him down to kiss you and he made sure to hold himself up, not wanting to press against your sensitive chest, making you smile. “want you inside me.” you looked down to his hard cock, he was already leaking. “please?” you batted your eyes innocently and he narrowed his eyes at you, shaking his head as he laughed.

“you little minx.” he rubbed his cock through your folds, swiping your wetness as he went along, rubbing it over your clit, making you jolt. he smiled and slid into you slowly. a little too slowly for your liking. so you wrapped your legs around him and pulled him in making him bottom out immediately.

you both moaned out and he rested his forehead against yours, “fuck. needy little thing aren’t you?”

you nodded. “only for you.” you were already breathless as he slowly started thrusting into you deep, pressing your clit every time he pumped his hips.

“shit––” your walls were clenching all around him “missed my pretty pussy so much.” his eyes drifted down to where you were connected, looking at your arousal wetting his cock, your cunt opening up to him like it was made for him.

his eyes found their way back to your face and stayed there as he sped up his movements, watching the way your body showed the pleasure you were feeling, the pleasure he was giving you.

“feel good baby girl?” he brought a hand down to rub at your clit. his smile was cheeky as he looked into your eyes and that only made you clench around him even more. you loved when he was cocky, and he knew that too.

you nodded, biting your lip. “so so good. always make me feel so good tommy.”

he growled, fucking into you faster as he got closer. he’d been throbbing ever since he got his mouth on you. “such a tight little pussy. always good for me. you gonna cum one more time with me?”

“yes yes.” you pulled him close, digging your fingers into his back as you felt yourself inching closer to the edge. it wasn’t long before the two of you climaxed together, your mouths locked together as you moaned into each other, the both of you connected in more ways than one.

you both agreed that you didn’t want to pull away from each other just yet––it felt comforting to be so enveloped by each other. so tom moved the two of you over onto your side, facing each other, looking in the lights of each other’s eyes, the glow in your skin.

he ran his knuckles over your cheek lovingly. “please tell me when you’re feeling down about yourself darling, okay? so i can remind you just how amazing you are.”

you smiled, your hand coming up to hold his wrist. “okay tommy i will.” you kissed him slowly, taking your time to show everything you felt. “i love you.”

“i love you too darling. so much.”

#queue tell em #tom holland #tom holland ask #tom holland blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland smut blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland fluff blurb #tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland #mob!tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland smut #mob!tom holland smut blurb #mob!tom holland blurb #mob!tom holland fluff #mob!tom holland fluff blurb

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loveyhoneydovey · 3 years

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SFW Alphabet with Joaquín Torres

Note: I've been dying to write something like this so I decided to do it with my baby first. Might do Sam next

All my stories are written with a bisexual reader of colour in mind, but anyone else is more than welcome to read them

Joaquín Torres x GN!Reader

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s a very affectionate partner and especially shows his love through physical affection and acts of service. He wants to feel useful and do his best to make life easier and more enjoyable for you.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’d be the type of best friend that’s not physically there often, due to the nature of his job. However, when you do get a chance to spend it feels like he’s never been gone. He completely focuses on you, asks for updates about your life and checks if you need anything. He’s so chill and he’s got the type of personality that has you at ease. You first met him at a mutual friend’s wedding, you both got a bit tipsy and decided to hang out with each other and that was the start of a beautiful friendship

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

YES!!! As I previously mentioned, he loves physical touch and cuddling is one of his favourite ways of showing affection. He loves being the small spoon and he’s not ashamed to say it. He says it’s because you make him feel safe and makes him feel like he has a home to go back to after all the shit he sees

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He wants to settle down for sure, eventually. Before meeting you, he thought that would come later, but you definitely made him rethink. I don’t think he’s the best cook, but I think he has a few of recipes of food his mom made him when he was younger. Those are the ones he learned to perfect. As for cleaning, because of how strict his life is at the army, I think he allows himself to be a bit messy at home. Definitely messy and not dirty. You both try to split house chores evenly.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think he’d be honest and would do it in person. Ending a relationship that played such an important part in his life is definitely heartbreaking, but he thinks he owes it to himself and to you to put an end to it before it gets worse. He’d rather end things on semi good terms than letting it sour and go nowhere.

F = Fiancé(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He always told himself, when it came to relationships, he’d go with the flow and see how he felt about long-term commitment. He’s a m*ilitary boy, so I think he kinda (unintentionally) follows the stereotype and proposes quickly. Although in his case he does it because he’s truly in love with you and doesn’t want to wait longer than he has to make you his. He’d propose after about a year and a half I’d say.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Have you seen him? He’s the gentlest sweetest baby in every way. I think the fact that he sees so much violence and horror during his deployment pushes him to be more gentle in other aspects of his life. More specifically with you and his family. He wants you to feel like you can come to him for anything whether it’s when you’re feeling down or when you’ve cut your finger on a piece of glass. Either way he’ll treat you with kindness, but not like you’re breakable.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

omg he LOVES hugs. Again, due to the nature of his job, he doesn’t get a lot of physical affection, which drives him crazy. So when he’s home, you can expect him to attack you with hugs all day long. Doesn’t matter if you’re washing the dishes or brushing your teeth. He’ll come up from behind and wrap his arms around your waist, while putting his chin on your shoulder. If you’re facing him, he’s going to engulf you and wrap his arms around you. His hugs are warm and comforting and make you feel safe.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

oh real quick, but actually so do you. I actually headcanon that you two say it at the same time by accident. You both were probably nervous because it was after like two months, but end up laughing it off cause you were so in sync.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He understands the root of jealousy is mostly insecurity, so he doesn’t get jealous often, because he’s secure in his relationship with you and is actually pretty confident with himself. Of course, it happens occasionally, he’s only human. However, you both always thought that feeling jealous sometimes wasn’t bad, but what could lead to issues was the way one could act on it. So, whenever he feels jealous he takes a moment to collect his thoughts if he needs to, then you’d both talk about it.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses are often playful and sweet. He doesn’t like to take himself too seriously and neither do you, so you keep things light and playful, but that doesn’t mean it’s not passionate. On the contrary, you feel his love for you with every kiss he leaves on you skin. His favourite place to kiss you is on the nose, because of the way you scrunch it and giggle after he kisses it. As for where he liked to be kissed, soon after you started dating, you found out he loved being shirtless which allowed you to notice he had a beauty mark on the upper part of his right shoulder. From that moment, you developed a habit of kissing it and it made him melt, so it became his favourite place to be kissed.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Oh the BEST. For some reason he attracts them. You told him it was probably because he was a child himself and he flipped you off. You actually think it’s because he’s so cheerful and happy, and he treats them like they’re his friends. You’ve caught him having full on conversations with your friends’ babies who couldn’t even speak yet. And once you had kids, he did the same thing with them.

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Whenever possible, you have lazy mornings where you alternate between sleeping, having lazy morning sex and snacking. If it’s a regular morning, he usually has to leave before you, and every time you’d try to distract him and make him stay a bit longer. He’s so used to your “five more minutes, please” that he started waking up five minutes earlier.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

This man has a whole skincare routine before going to sleep. If you also do, then you both complete your routines side by side in front of the bathroom mirror. He might read a bit before bed (and you try to sneakily take a pic of him in his glasses cause you think he looks so cute), or you’d both talk about your day and maybe cuddle a bit before turning off your lamps and getting some sleep.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

He’d open up slowly, there was no pressure between the two of you and he took his time to share the more difficult parts of his life. Now if you open up to him about something defining or traumatic that happened in your life, he might open up faster to let you know you’re not alone, but also to reciprocate the trust you put in him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

He’s pretty patient most of the time and tries to not let himself get angry over little things, however he’s still human. So depending on the gravity of the situation, he might get angered quickly if he sees something upsetting happening, however, he’s very careful with the way he reacts. He knows something done in anger can lead to regret and guilt, so he thinks before he acts and speaks.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

I think he’d remember an important date like your birthday, he knows around what time your anniversary is, but I feel like he would forget which date it is exactly. He’d remember the most random facts about you, like the kind of stuff where you think he was paying attention, but he was listening subconsciously.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

Cliché, but it was during your honeymoon. It was the first time you had referred to him as your husband and it made his heart swell with pride. The love you held for him was so obvious when you looked at him.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He’s protective when he needs to be. He’s not overbearing and trusts that you’re capable of taking care of yourself most of the time. He will step in if he feels like a situation is escalating (let’s say if you’re getting physically or verbally harassed) and he will put himself physically between you and whoever’s trying to harm you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Omg listen this baby puts so much effort into making your dates enjoyable. He plans out full picnics with cute cakes and charcuterie boards and that doesn’t stop as your relationship progresses. Any gifts he gives you usually have a meaning behind them, and he doesn’t always buy them, sometimes he makes them himself. As I said, he is a bit messy in his daily life, but you two actually have a chart with who’s supposed to do what and that’s how you share your chores, and he does mostly follow it.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has a habit of leaving some important stuff until the last minute. It works out in the end, but it causes him an unnecessary amount of stress.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

… have you seen the amount shirtless selfies Danny takes? I think Torres is the exact same. So, he does like to take care of his looks, especially when he sees the effect it has on you. And he has to stay in shape either way, due to his job

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

I think he’d be heartbroken and might feel incomplete for the first few months, but as time goes one, he begins to feel whole again and learns to feel self sufficient.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

He wants to learn another language fluently someday. He wants to help people and he thinks there’s no better way than being able to understand their needs in their native language to be able to help

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

I think he doesn’t like the smell of cigarettes or smoke. He doesn’t mind if his partner’s a smoker, but he probably wouldn’t be around them while they’re smoking.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

This boy sleeps in the weirdest, funniest positions. Like you’d go to sleep in a normal position side by side, or with your back to him, then when you’d wake up you’d find him in a new position every time.

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres imagine #joaquin torres #tfatws imagine #tfatws

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vex-bittys · 3 years

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In Your Dreams: A Horrortale Story

Raffle prize for @purplesangel. When your life is a living nightmare, is it any surprise that your dreams are just as bad? Thankfully a dream-walking human has arrived to help, but will she still want to help Axe when she finds out what he’s done to stay alive?

WARNING: character death mention, language, blood mention, some disturbing imagery including cannibalism (no details)

READ ON AO3

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Life in the Underground was an endless nightmare for Axe. During his waking hours, he checked his traps and hunted in the forest, often returning home empty-handed only to see the disappointment and desperation in his brother’s sockets. Supply trains became frantic riots as too many monsters competed for their share of too little food, and the sharp pain of hunger lingered even after the skeleton brothers’ meager meals.

Madness seeped in through the hole in his skull, distorting reality. He clawed at his skull, trying to release the pressure of the frenetic energy that consumed him. He could feel the darkness lurking, waiting for him to make a misstep, some seemingly trivial mistake; that’s when it would strike, shredding his thoughts and shattering his focus. There was no escaping it, and Axe knew that one day it would swallow him up.

Sleep provided no reprieve. In his dreams, Axe continued to suffer. He watched his brother fade away to nothing from starvation. He felt the gnawing emptiness of his own unsatisfied hunger. Feasts appeared before his single working eyelight only to transform into grains of sand that slipped through his fingers when he reached for it. He ran through the shadowed forest outside of Snowdin, fleeing an unknown terror in the night while thorny tendrils of a deeper darkness caught him, slowing his progress, dragging him down, and allowing his madness to suffocate him.

Days dragged on into months, and months melted together into years. Waking life remained bleak with monsters still struggling (and at times failing) to survive. Food sources dwindled, and the gathering of other resources fell by the wayside as every creature in the Underground focused on filling their stomachs as best they could. Everything stagnated in its state of destitution and decay… everything except Axe’s dreams.

Axe’s nightmares repeated themselves night after night until slowly, they began to change. It started with the appearance of a new character- a human that Axe didn’t recognize, though he thought it might be a female. At first the human only observed the horrors that lurked in the sleeping world of Axe’s mind. Gradually, though, she began to interact.

It all started during one of Axe’s nightmares about his brother. Crooks would turn a pleading gaze to his brother, mouthing a soundless plea for food. Axe would fall to his knees, sobbing and pounding his fists into the ground. Crooks slowly collapsed, and the gradual dissolution of his body sent his dust drifting towards his brother, filling Axe’s mouth and nasal cavity until he choked himself awake… usually. This time things turned out differently.

“I’M SO HUNGRY, BROTHER,” Crooks’ voice came from the air around them and not his mouth, the teeth there long since broken or knocked askew from gnawing away at non-edible items simply to assuage the need to chew.

The human appeared, but instead of observing the unfolding scene, this time she glanced around until her eyes fell upon Axe.

Since the very first time you’d stumbled across this heart-breaking nightmare scenario, you’d worked hard to return to it. Dream-walking involved focus, practice, and a bit of luck, and in this venture, the fates were on your side. You’d walked this collection of now-familiar nightmare images many times, slowly working out which participant it belonged to and why the skeleton with the broken skull kept replaying these torturous situations in his sleep.

Now, you were ready to interact and hopefully restore some peace to the sleeping world of the monster in front of you. You extended a tentative hand towards him, unsure if he would welcome your touch as a form of physical comfort. He just stared at your outstretched hand as if it would bring some new and unfathomable horror to his disturbingly familiar nightmare. You let your hand drop. Words would have to suffice then.

“It’s not real,” you told the stocky skeleton firmly.

His sockets narrowed suspiciously. “what do ya mean, ‘not real’?”

“This-” you gestured to the vague, nondescript surroundings and very crisp, well-defined figure of the tall, starving skeleton behind you, never breaking eye contact “- is not real.”

The skeleton with the broken skull laughed, a harsh and humorless sound that grated against your ear drums. You sighed, frustrated but determined. It rarely improved a situation to reveal yourself while dream-walking; most dreamers forgot their nightly travels when they returned to the waking world anyway. Those who didn’t merely discarded your presence, along with any advice you might give, as part of a nonexistent scenario that could not influence their waking lives and should thus be ignored.

Normally, you resigned yourself to this and walked through dreams as a silent observer, but this skeleton’s torment tore at your heart and brought forth a tenacity within you to help him in the only way you could: by walking through his nightmares and defeating them, one by one, until nothing remained but peaceful slumber.

The skeleton with the broken skull scoffed. “you don’t know nothin’,” he growled obstinately.

“I know that your most frequent nightmares involve food, madness, and losing this other skeleton-”

“my bro,” the skeptical skeleton clarified.

“Losing your brother,” you amended with an edge to your voice, “to starvation.”

“it’s not like you’re some expert investigator piecin’ together the clues, pal. we’re all starvin’ and dustin’ down here,” he said, dismissing your observations. You frowned. Was there some truth to these nightmares? Often dreams represented thoughts and fears in a metaphoric manner, but maybe this skeleton didn’t have room in his troubled mind for subtlety.

Regardless, you would do what you could for him in the only place that you could reach him.

“I don’t know what your life is like in the waking world,” you conceded softly, “but this? Everything around us now? It isn’t real.” You continued in a rush before the skeleton could interrupt you again. “You’re asleep, and your mind is processing your fears… and your reality… into nightmares.”

The skeleton inhaled, obviously ready to argue again, but you stopped him by making a sweeping gesture towards his brother. Had this nightmare been reality, the taller skeleton would be dust by now. Instead, the image was frozen in place thanks to the stocky skeleton’s change of focus. “Look,” you ordered boldly.

Axe begrudgingly allowed his single eyelight to stray from you to his brother. While it was true that nothing had changed in the scene since he had turned his attention to his unexpected visitor, the moment he looked back, the scenario resumed. Flakes of dust drifted loose from his brother’s body, floating away on an unfelt breeze to disappear as they dispersed until nothing remained except the unbearable weight of guilt and his brother’s ghost of a voice whispering “Why?” over and over again in his head.

Why didn’t you save me?

“It’s not real,” you whispered solemnly behind him, but honestly, that didn’t matter. Watching his brother die of starvation that he should have prevented sent jagged pains through his SOUL whether it existed solely inside of his mind or not. Your next words, however, carried a much greater impact: “I can teach you how to change it.”

The most frustrating part of dream-walking was the inability to change the contents of people’s dreams or nightmares yourself. While you could view the unfolding events, you possessed no real power over them. Only the dreamer could affect their dreams. Thankfully, unlike dream-walking, lucid dreaming is a skill that can be taught.

As with every teaching experience, some students learn more quickly than others. Axe, as he eventually introduced himself to you, was not one of those students. The most difficult aspect of lucid dreaming for him happened to be the very first step to lucid dreaming at all: accepting that what he experienced while he slept was a dream instead of a warped reality that lived inside of his cracked skull and broken mind.

“These images all come from your thoughts,” you explained again. “You can control them, but first you have to accept that you can control them.”

You knew that the dreams involving his brother were far too emotionally charged to make good fodder for lucid dreaming practice, and you preferred to steer clear of the choking darkness since you had no idea what effects such a powerful and overwhelming negative force could potentially have on you, even as an observer within someone else’s troubled subconscious. This only left the dreams of an untouchable feast to practice on… and practice was not going well.

As with your many previous attempts to gently guide the stocky skeleton towards seizing control of his nightmares, the lesson had quickly devolved into a squabble. You insisted that Axe could learn to control his subconscious surroundings; Axe stubbornly insisted that he could not. You would point out that this was his dream, and his mind; he would attempt to discredit your existence as just another piece of the complicated web of nightmares that plagued him: a human offering him false hope in a bleak and hopeless world.

It did bother you a little bit that Axe considered you- a (mostly) patient and helpful human- to be nightmare fuel. Only monsters lived in the Underground since the long-forgotten war, so why would Axe’s guilt-riddled dreamscapes include humans?

You decided to save the questions for another time.

“Try again,” you told Axe, who only answered with a weary, frustrated sigh.

Irritation swirled through Axe’s excessive magic, though it was aimed more at himself than at you. Every night you tried to help him take control of his dreaming mind, and every night, despite your calm instructions, he failed. You made it sound so easy, so why couldn’t he just grab a stupid spider donut off of the stupid table and shove the stupid thing into his big, stupid mouth?

“Try again,” you told him patiently as he brushed the gritty sand from his finger joints. He uttered a weary, frustrated sigh.

“i am trying,” he grumbled, biting back a deluge of unhelpful comments and curses. He touched another piece of food, a french fry, still steaming though it had been sitting on a pile of its doppelgangers since the nightmare began. The entire fry stack crumbled to sand before he’d even lifted one free; Axe’s patience dissolved along with it.

“if this was as easy as you claim,” he shouted, letting his anger overflow into sharp words, “then i’d be able to pick up these plates and smash them on the floor like i want to!” Without any conscious thought, Axe lifted one of the plates in question and hurled it at the ground. It shattered, leaving silence in its wake as Axe and the dream-walking human stared down at the shards on the ground in awe.

Axe gave an entire stack of plates an experimental shove, sending them cascading over the edge of the table and onto the ground where they created an inharmonious symphony of destruction. You applauded the spontaneous mess and squealed with glee, and Axe swept you up into a quick celebratory hug, spinning you around once before setting you back on your feet. As soon as he set you down, he grabbed a donut and crammed it into his mouth. Chewing, his sockets narrowed in utter bliss, he picked up a second donut and offered it to you.

Nothing tasted as sweet as victory… except for maybe a spider donut.

You didn’t want to dampen the skeleton’s joy by telling him that you wouldn’t be able to taste a donut in his dreams, so you took a bite, your head still spinning from his sudden show of physical affection. With a promise to see him the following night, you stepped out of his nightmares. You felt content that you’d taken the first big step on a journey to giving Axe the power to sleep peacefully without constant, horrific nightmares plaguing him.

The next lesson would be more difficult; you intended to guide Axe through banishing nightmares of his brother’s death. Out of consideration for Axe’s privacy, you had never asked him why he had such specific nightmares about his brother, but nightmares involving a sibling death as vivid as Axe’s hinted at some very dark and complex situations existing in the skeletons’ waking world. Those hints aside, Axe had outright stated that things were terrible in the Underground where he lived. Maybe working through his dream would give him some insight into fixing his real-life situation, at least the one he faced with his brother.

You hoped so. During the nights you’d spent helping Axe learn how to lucid dream, you had come to consider him a friend. You hated the thought of him suffering. You especially hated that you could only reach him during his nightmares. You wished you could do more, but how? Those were thoughts for your own waking world.

Tonight you wanted to focus on Axe’s progress, and once he’d gotten some practice at lucid dreaming, you’d work on changing the heart-breaking nightmare of his brother.

Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull as he waited for you to appear. He could feel himself slipping towards darker dreamscapes, and he fought to stay in the safe in-between place like you’d shown him. He told himself that the tremors in his bones were caused by his unstable magic and not by fear. What if his previous successes were a fluke? What if he failed when it mattered the most?

Thoughts of failure sent him spiraling into the guilty nightmare of his starving brother. After all, his failures in reality led to this, and the dire consequences that he saw unfolding in his subconscious lurked only a step behind him in the waking world. Soon his real life would become this very same nightmare, and he would be left as powerless to stop it there as he felt to stop it here.

Thankfully, you appeared within seconds to chase away the grim meanderings of his mind and help him focus on the task at hand- Crooks.

Axe’s brother loomed in front of him, eyes pleading, begging for something that Axe could not give him. He watched the image of his brother twist and reshape itself, growing alarmingly large, the bones stretching from an influx of magic that still somehow managed to provide almost no nutrition. He whispered his brother’s name, frozen in place and unable to remember what he was supposed to do to stop the scene unfolding in front of him.

A small hand slipped into his; he had forgotten about you as his familiar fears swamped him. You looked up at him with a calm expression and nodded, encouraging him.

“You can do this.” Your words bolstered his courage. He dragged his panic back under control and turned to face Papyrus… or what had become of Papyrus under his inadequate care: the monster now known as Crooks.

“You know what you need to do,” you whispered.

Axe stepped towards his brother, focusing on Crooks as he had seen him last: tucked into his bed, the blanket no longer quite long enough to cover his lanky frame, wishing Axe a good night and sweet dreams and promising to see him in the morning. Keeping that image locked in his mind, Axe let his lone eyelight travel over his brother’s altered frame. Sure enough, not a single mote of dust rose from the other skeleton. Crooks simply stood there, watching him through sunken sockets.

Though he’d brought his brother’s recurring death to a halt, the words that swirled and echoed around him continued, too faint at first to make out individual words or phrases. His brother’s voice whispered accusations like poisoned arrows that pierced his SOUL. A chorus of questions, all beginning with “Why…?” slowed, sharpened, and gained clarity. Crooks spoke, though his mouth never moved and the words seemed to thrum within his very bones, tangible beyond mere sound.

Normally Crooks’ omnipresent voice asked him why he would allow his brother to starve, but this time the question differed, though it still sent chills to the very marrow of Axe’s bones.

“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME EAT-”

Axe quickly hushed his brother, stealing a glance at you to gauge your reaction. You simply made an encouraging gesture as if to say “Go on, you’re doing great.” He wondered if you’d feel the same way if you knew what Crooks’ next words would have been.

“i couldn’t let ya starve,” Axe spoke softly, tilting his head to maintain eye contact with his much taller brother. “i’d do anything to keep you alive.”

“EVEN-”

Axe nodded, nearly choking on guilt. “yeah. even that.”

“BUT I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T EVER WANT-”

Remorse softened Axe’s expression, and his gravelly voice hitched. “i couldn’t let ya dust. i had no choice. i’m so sorry.”

Without warning, Crooks slumped, but he wasn’t collapsing into dust. Instead, he crushed his brother against his ribcage in a tight hug. You sensed a loosening of the guilt and remorse that gripped this particular nightmare so tightly. Things weren’t resolved yet. Nightmares could rarely be banished in a single lucid dreaming session, but you’d given Axe the tools he needed to seize control of his sleeping world.

Only one challenge awaited you now: fighting the suffocating darkness of the final nightmare. You made plans to tackle that monumental task once Axe felt satisfied that he could manage this current nightmare on his own. Working through the tangle of emotions that his brother’s death awakened would take quite a bit longer than satisfying himself that he could eat his fill of dream donuts, but you were willing to go the distance to help Axe.

You actually wanted to do this, no matter how much the slithering darkness terrified you. Axe just meant that much to you.

“I think we’re ready for the final nightmare,” you declared after a dream session in which Axe showed off by summoning various items for his brother to eat.

In the lucid dreams about Crooks, his dream-brother mostly stood or sat nearby providing companionship and support as Axe practiced controlling his consciousness. Axe enjoyed the time with his brother, despite the knowledge that this version of Crooks existed only inside of his mind. It gave him a tentative sensation of hope that perhaps someday he could experience this type of peace with his brother in the waking world, free of the constant mad scramble for survival.

Your words shattered fragile, fleeting calm. Sweat beaded on Axe’s skull. The final nightmare contained his deep, dark fears, his madness, his guilt. Tendrils that reeked of his unspeakable crimes dragged him down into the cesspool that used to be his SOUL. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He didn’t want you to know what he was truly capable of.

You’d never come back, and he’d be left alone with the echoing, blossoming psychosis that suffocated him. It would be worse now though. You’d shined a light into his life, and now he risked that glimmer of goodness being torn away… torn away because of what he’d done.

The punishment would fit the crime of his continuing survival.

You stepped into Axe’s dream world, excited and nervous at the prospect of facing the unknown horrors of this last nightmare that plagued him. The endless grey limbo that surrounded you came as quite a surprise when you expected inky vines of darkness encased in the thorns of Axe’s painful emotions and memories. Axe refused to meet your eyes when you approached him. Something was off about the whole situation.

“Is everything ok?” Maybe Axe wasn’t ready to face the darkness of the upcoming nightmare. You didn’t mind; you weren’t going to push him towards something that he didn’t want to do. You weren’t exactly eager to face it either, and besides, you thought you might enjoy just spending some time with Axe.

When he raised his head to meet your eyes, you couldn’t suppress a gasp of fright. Goosebumps erupted along your arms, and you shivered.

Axe’s single red eyelight… it glowed with an eerie flickering light, seeming to swell until the socket could barely contain the vortex of its power. Axe tilted his head at an unnatural angle and laughed at your reaction. You forced yourself to stand your ground despite your fear. This was not the monster you knew. Axe now embodied the darkness of his own inner turmoil, and it froze the blood in your veins.

“nothing is ok!” Axe’s snarl dissolved into sinister chuckles that made his broad shoulders shake. He lifted a hand, phalanges curved like claws to scrape at the hole in his skull. You lunged forward to pull his hand away before he caused more damage to himself, and he shoved you roughly away.

The hurt and confusion in your eyes filled Axe with dark satisfaction. You needed to know just what kind of monster he was. You needed to fear him, to run away and never come back. Instead, you offered him your compassion yet again.

“Let me help you.” Tears filled your eyes. His madness must be breaking your sweet, loving heart, but he drove home his depravity because if he let himself care, you’d find out the truth eventually anyway. Losing you would hurt more if he actually had you first.

This time when you reached out for him, he dodged, letting your momentum carry you to your hands and knees on the floor. He loomed over you, oozing menace like a thick fog.

“help me?” Axe’s scornful laughter echoed around the empty landscape. “and why,” he asked cruelly, “would you help a murderer?”

“Murderer?” You repeated the word as a question, as if you weren’t completely sure you knew what it meant. Your eyes widened in shock as tendrils of darkness climbed Axe’s arm, sliding over his bones like living tattoos until they pooled in his hand, taking on the shape of a huge meat cleaver.

“how do you think i’ve survived so long, little human? i hunt, and i kill.” He grinned, his mouth stretching into a disturbing parody of joy. “humans mostly. honestly, did you think the blood on my hoodie was mine?”

You admittedly hadn’t thought much about the blood stains on the hoodie. Maybe they were his. Maybe they were ketchup. Maybe in his dreams he wore the stains of his brother’s imagined death. Dreams and nightmares created their own reality with its own details pulled more from a dreamer’s mindset than accurate memories. It shocked you to think that Axe truly wore a hoodie that had once been soaked with fresh blood.

Human blood.

You trembled. Axe began to circle you like a hungry wolf, casually swinging his gigantic cleaver.

“Do you regret it?” you finally asked in a tiny voice.

Those four words penetrated the armor of madness that Axe was using to push you away, and they struck him like a well-timed attack. He reeled, reaching for some lie to keep you from seeing the truth and pitying him.

He found nothing.

The meat cleaver fell from his shaking hand. Axe sank to his haunches, covering his face with his hands, trying to hide from you and your perceptiveness. He wanted to scare you away before you could judge him and abandon him, but you shot your question straight to his SOUL, refusing to believe the worst of him.

“every fucking minute of my life.”

This time, when you tentatively reached for him, undaunted by his previous rejection, he leaned into your touch. He hated himself for his weakness, but every second that you stayed, even if you left eventually, was a second he would cherish until time wore away even the memory of his dust.

With his first admission, however poorly he’d delivered it, out of the way, Axe couldn’t stop himself from confessing even more of his transgressions and regrets. “i lied and told my brother it was meat from an animal in the forest. he didn’t want to eat humans, but i tricked him. i couldn’t let him starve” The words poured out of him; he feared that as soon as things went quiet, you would realize what an irredeemable abomination he was and flee. “i shouldn’t have done it, but i didn’t know what else to do. we were so hungry… and it messed up our magic. there’s no way to hide what we did. no way to undo it.”

Axe’s words stumbled to a halt, and you sat for a moment in the heavy silence of the grey dreamscape, contemplating them. You hated what he had done, but you also understood that his only other option would be watching his brother starve to death. The circumstances didn’t allow for any winners, and Axe suffered with the knowledge of the things he’d done.

“You were trying to survive.” Your voice nearly cracked on the final word. You could not fathom the desperation that drove Axe to his decision.

You remembered all of the heart-breaking stories that Axe told you about the Underground: the human who’d stolen the SOULs that the monsters had gathered and fled, taking the monsters’ hope with them, the death of their monarchs at the human’s hands, the Royal Guard Captain’s ascension to a throne that she didn’t possess the skills to manage, and the unbearable suffering of monsters starving to death or falling down because of an unshakable despair.

You raised your eyes to meet Axe’s eyelight, expecting to see softness there once more, but instead his horrified expression stared back at you. You didn’t need to puzzle out the cause because a moment later, barbed shadow vines lashed you, wrapping around your legs and dragging you towards a puddle of oozing darkness near your feet. You struggled against the thorny tendrils, and they tightened, driving each wickedly sharp thorn-tip into your flesh.

Pain seared your legs, real physical pain… in someone else’s dream. Panic washed over you, and you fought harder to escape, causing the barbs to rip deeper into you.

You screamed.

Shaking off his shock at the sound of your scream, Axe lunged forward. He wrapped both of his arms tightly around you and wrenched you away from the grasping vines. A writhing mass of them rose up behind him, swarming over him like living things. Staggering a few steps forward, Axe set you on an empty bit of space, but the vines quickly pulled him off of his feet and into a kneeling position. More tendrils rose to wrap around him, and the inky darkness of the puddle rose up to meet them, slithering up his body and swallowing him up in the darkness.

“i can’t protect you here… i can’t keep you safe from me, from my mind.” Axe choked out the words through the darkness consuming him. He couldn’t let you come back. He wouldn’t allow you to be in danger because of him.

This had to be good-bye.

He focused his mind.

“don’t come back.”

You jolted awake, that one last glimpse of Axe’s red eyelight, brimming with pain and regret burning in your mind. He had kicked you out of his dreams and told you not to come back. You couldn’t dream-walk in a mind that wasn’t open to your presence. Your throat constricted, and you felt tears sting your eyes. What if you never saw Axe again?

When you tossed back your blankets, you half expected to see scratches on your legs where Axe’s negative thoughts and emotions had touched you, but your skin was unbroken. You’d never experienced a nightmare so vivid and intense, but you breathed a sigh of relief that it couldn’t reach you in the waking world. If only Axe would let you come back, you could tell him that despite your panicked reactions, his dreams had no power to harm you.

Instead, he would continue to face the torment of his past mistakes all alone… for now.

Because while you had been helping Axe deal with his nightmares, you hadn’t neglected the appalling circumstances of his reality. If you could make your waking project work, you would be able to truly save the skeleton that you cared for so deeply.

I won’t let you push me away, you vowed.

Axe settled himself on the bench of his sentry station, taking a break from prowling the forest for potential meals. The barren snowscape left him all alone with his thoughts, and he hated it. In one bout of unhinged boredom, he’d created a sign for the outpost: “Head dogs, 5G.” It made as much sense as anything else in the Underground. Besides, there was no such thing as a hot dog in this frigid wasteland.

The narrow lines of dead tree trunks shifted if he stared at them too long, and the wind that howled through them carried voices whose words he could not quite arrange into coherency. The windblown whispers rose in volume until the roaring of innumerable voices filled his skull. The blazing white of the snow surrounding him only added to the sensory overload. He couldn’t hear, couldn’t see.

“shut up, shut up!” Axe chanted, clawing at the hole in his skull. Reality warped, the passage of time quickened and slowed, and nothing made sense anymore…

… and you were standing in front of him.

Axe recoiled in disbelief. How could this be happening? He hadn’t fallen asleep… or had he? Maybe you were a cruel hallucination conjured by his loneliness. He refused to accept the vision of you even when you reached out in that oh-so-familiar way to calm the scrabbling of his phalanges against the jagged edges of the hole in his skull.

Axe’s hand shot out as quickly as a striking snake and grabbed your wrist. He yanked you forward until you were partially bent over the sill of the sentry station. He raised his massive knife high above his head; his eyes held no recognition, no clarity, no sanity.

You held completely still, unflinching. The meat cleaver hovered threateningly above you, but it did not fall. You and Axe were frozen in the moment, but despite the madness that absolutely radiated from him, you trusted him not to hurt you.

“you’re not real,” Axe accused you in a gravelly whisper. You weren’t even sure if he meant to speak aloud at all.

“Are you going to kill me?” Your voice didn’t waver, and you kept your eyes locked with his single eyelight, calm yet firm.

Axe lowered the knife. Real or imagined, starving or not, he would never hurt you. You knew him too well. He released your wrist, hoping he hadn’t hurt you by grabbing you like that. He wanted to ask how you’d gotten here, but other matters demanded a higher priority.

“you aren’t safe here,” the skeleton scolded gruffly. “didn’t you listen? monsters here kill and eat humans!”

“Good thing I found you first then.” You tried to diffuse the tension with bravado, but you had to admit that your choice to come to the Underground was a risky one. Axe’s eyelight travelled over your body, searching for injuries while surreptitiously taking in the sight of you. His obvious concern for your safety filled you with warmth and determination.

“there’s nothing good about this,” Axe growled though he had to admit that seeing you again definitely felt like a good thing to him. That little bit of goodness could be snuffed out in a hurry though if another monster saw you and attacked. “i’ve got to get you out of here.”

Axe lumbered out of his sentry station, glancing furtively around the barren landscape, though it wasn’t entirely clear whether he expected to spot an enemy or an escape route. The skeleton stopped right next to you, attempting to block you from prying eyes. You found his protective stance rather charming, but you weren’t here to be charmed. You were on a mission.

You slipped your backpack from your shoulders, swinging it around into Axe’s line of sight and opening it. Seven clear canisters sat inside, each with a brightly-colored heart shape inside of it. Axe’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“are those…?” Axe sounded almost reverent, and with good reason.

“Human SOULs? Yes. I gathered these from willing donors who wanted to help set the monsters free.” It had taken dedication and time, but you’d meticulously interviewed potential donors until you tracked down all seven SOUL types that you needed. Now, only the path to the Barrier stood in your way.

Without warning, Axe swept you into a crushing hug, then proceeded to spin you around. Your feet actually left the ground, and you laughed softly at the thrill of it.

“you’ve got to meet my brother, then we’ll smuggle you into the Capitol.” For once you heard excitement and hope in Axe’s voice. His eyelight gleamed with resolution as he reached for your hand. You placed your hand in his without hesitation. Axe’s declaration that he knew a shortcut still rang in your ears as the world spun beneath you and everything went dark.

Disoriented, you tried to take in the scene around you. You’d been outside, standing in a forest choked with dead trees and carpeted in snow, but suddenly you found yourself in a house. The loud colors of the bowling alley style carpeting had long since faded, and the couch had obviously seen better days. Everything in the house was touched with the same look of elegant decay: faded colors, worn fabrics, the yellowing of book pages, and the subtle musk of disuse.

A fine film of the dust of time spoke volumes about the life of two monsters who devoted so much of their lives to simply surviving that they were forced to neglect the basic upkeep of their home. The house looked so long abandoned that the presence of life within it seemed almost surreal. You couldn’t find words to break the silence that permeated the house, soundless echoes of what it had once been.

Movement caught your eye; a lanky figure detached itself from the shadows and stepped in the dust-mote-filled light. Your eyes travelled up and up, an impossible height despite the figure’s hunched posture, until you found facial features that you recognized from Axe’s dream. The vivid colors of Axe’s subconscious bore the same washed-out appearance here that characterized their home, but you knew this must be Papyrus, now known as Crooks due to the effects of his recent tragic diet.

Crooks wrung his hands shyly, awaiting your reaction to his somewhat terrifying appearance. His teeth were crooked and broken, caked with something red that you tried not to think about too much. His nervous actions tugged at your heart, and you offered him a gentle smile which he responded to with a smile of his own.

“I’D OFFER YOU SOME OF MY SIGNATURE SPAGHETTI AND EYEBALLS, BUT WE’RE ALL OUT OF PASTA.” His apologetic tone did little to distract you from the fact that the skeleton brothers were short of pasta but not eyeballs.

“That’s alright. Really.” You didn’t hold out much hope that Crooks had misspoken considering Axe’s earlier admission. The sooner you got these monsters out of their Underground prison, the sooner they could return to normal healthy eating habits.

“my friend here wants to help us get to the Surface. they’ve got plenty of pasta up there. we just need to talk to ol’ Queen Undyne first,” Axe interjected, using a light tone to dispel the awkwardness of his brother’s offer.

Crooks perked up at the mention of Undyne. “UNDYNE WILL BE SO RELIEVED. I DON’T THINK SHE LIKES BEING QUEEN VERY MUCH…” You clutched your backpack and its precious cargo of SOULs, unzipping it slightly to show the mingled glow of seven vibrant colors. Crooks peered at them with a mixture of curiosity and delight.

Axe shifted uncomfortably. “yeah, relieved,” he mumbled, refusing to meet your eyes. You didn’t have much time to wonder about the skeletons’ very different reactions to Undyne because Axe extended a hand to you and Crooks. As soon as your fingertips brushed his smooth, warm bones, everything went dark again.

In the few seconds it took your eyes to communicate the view of a once-opulent throne room to your poor confused brain, a glowing blue spear appeared and slammed into the ground so close to you that you felt the force of the impact thrumming up the shaft of the weapon. If Axe hadn’t yanked you backwards, you would’ve been impaled. Where had it even come from?

“UNDYNE WAIT! THIS HUMAN IS A FRIEND!” You followed the direction of Crooks’ voice to see an armor-clad monster with a wild mane of crimson hair. She held another glowing blue spear, and her single yellow eye focused on you with murderous malice. You staggered backwards from the force of her glare.

“No human is a friend to monsters,” Queen Undyne roared, launching a volley of her spears at you. You resigned yourself to your doom, regretting that your rescue attempt had been such a short-lived failure.

A wall of bones erupted from the tiles of the floor, blocking the attack. Crooks and Axe both stood next to you, arms outstretched to summon the defensive maneuver. More spears struck the bones, causing them to shudder, but they remained standing. You turned wide, panicked eyes to Axe, searching for some explanation or reassurance.

“can you hold her off?” Axe asked Crooks, who nodded somberly. The stocky skeleton grabbed your arm and dragged you down a hallway of soaring pillars coated thickly in cobwebs and floor to ceiling windows of cloudy, cracked glass. Away from the immediate danger, you began to tremble. Tears welled up in your eyes.

Axe pulled you close, wrapping you in the safety of his arms and gently rubbing your back. He made soft shushing sounds, and you realized that your tears had turned into terrified sobs. Your body shook, and you hiccuped, trying to catch your breath. Axe held you until the overwhelming wave of emotion subsided.

“i’m so sorry. i thought maybe we could talk some sense into Undyne. she and my brother used to be really close, but the last human who came through here… well, that human killed a lot of monsters and stole the SOULs that we had collected towards breaking the barrier. they left us with nothing but despair and dust, and Undyne blamed herself for not stopping them. it… affected her.” Once again, Axe looked guilty.

“How can we convince her that I’m trying to help?” You gripped your backpack with determined hands. You didn’t gather these SOULs for nothing, and you didn’t plan to leave the starving monsters in the Underground without at least making an effort to save them.

“you aren’t going to convince her of anything.” You opened your mouth to protest, but Axe laid a phalange against your lips to silence you. “i want you to get out of here. it’s not safe, and i would never forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“What about breaking the Barrier?”

Loud crashes sounded from the Throne Room. Axe shot a quick glance over his shoulder before pushing you further down the hallway. “i need to go help my brother. if we can convince Undyne to trust you, i’ll meet you at the Barrier to break it and free the monsters.”

“What if you can’t?” More sounds of destruction threatened to drown out your whispered words, but Axe was close enough to hear you over the cacophony. Sorrow filled his single eyelight.

“i won’t put you in danger.”

“That doesn’t answer my question!” Actually, it did answer your question, and the implications left you frantic with worry for him. You wanted to explain how you felt about him, why his plan tore your heart to pieces, that you couldn’t just leave him behind, but the sounds of battle were approaching quickly.

Crooks slid backwards into the pillar-lined hallway, kicking up dirt. He held bone attacks in his gloved hands, and he used them to deflect wave after wave of spear attacks. The barrage of attacks drove him backwards again, closer to you and his brother. Axe stepped between you and the sound of Undyne’s war cries.

Turning, he cupped your cheek in one large, bony hand. His eyelight drank you in as if to memorize every feature of your tear-streaked face. He leaned forward and kissed your forehead. “go,” he murmured, pressing his forehead to yours.

Then he was gone, teleporting to the entrance of the hallway to join Crooks with bone attacks flying.

If you stayed, it would only distract him. He wanted you to go, to be safe. It took every bit of willpower in your body to walk away, to step through the Barrier without him, knowing that he never would’ve fought Undyne if it wasn’t for your meddling.

You waited.

And waited.

The seconds stretched out, each one lasting a thousand excruciating years.

You waited.

Axe curled up on the couch, full to bursting from a delicious dinner prepared by his brother. Yawning, he rested his skull in your lap, and you gently stroked his scapulae, smiling as he began to doze. He no longer feared nightmares. In fact, he rarely dreamed at all anymore. After all, what would be the point in dreaming?

Life on the Surface far surpassed anything that his subconscious could fabricate, and he already lived that dream every single day, with you.

INDEX

#vexy writes #horrortale #horrortale sans #ht!sans #horrortale papyrus #ht!papyrus #horrortale undyne #ht!undyne #horror!sans x reader #fem!reader

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sillylittlelouie · 3 years

Text

Children Develop Trust

Awareness was slow in coming, after the late night that he'd had last night. It came in parts, ebbing and rising like the tide. The first thing that Frankenstein noticed in one of his more lucid moments, was that there was a weight on his chest. A warm, sweaty and panting weight, that shivered slightly, even as it peacefully snored. Swallowing his disgusted sigh, he looked down at the child whose upper body laid across his chest.

M-21 whined softly in his sleep as he wiped his runny nose in the scientist's sleeping shirt. He shifted, dragging more of his body onto Frankenstein's chest.

He must have agitated his ribs, as he let out a keening wail before he'd done much moving.

Frankenstein waited with bated breath, to see what his little one's reaction would be.

When the boy's fever had first set in, he'd been inconsolable. The slightest brush against his chest, or movement of his ribs while he slept would have woken him with a bout of coughing that would culminate in a bawling fit. Now, the young werewolf merely whimpered, shifting once more before settling into deep slumber once more.

Whether M-21's decreased discomfort came from the healing of his injuries or adaptation to the pain, Frankenstein wouldn't be able to tell. Not without getting the child up for a series of tests.

He pursed his lips. M-21 wasn't a bundle of overactive pain receptors anymore. Nor was he losing any more much-needed sleep.

That thought brought a smile to Frankenstein's face as he craned his neck to press a soft kiss to the boy's sweaty forehead. It was a small blessing that he would not take for granted.

Still, he would have loved to rend Shark to pieces for putting his youngest through this suffering. But alas, the dead could not be brought back to life, no matter what Mary Shelley had speculated.

Still, a man could dream.

Unless he had an important meeting that required his physical presence.

Frankenstein opened his eyes, not knowing when he had closed them.

Right, he had that board meeting today.

With a heavy heart, Frankenstein sat up carefully, one hand under M-21's bum and the other on the back of his neck, attempting to rouse his little one with the action. When that failed he gently, but incessantly patted the boy on his bum.

It was slow going, but eventually, M-21 grumbled as he cracked open an eye. The patting continued, and the other eye opened. A pathetic whine came from him.

It was all that Frankenstein could do, to stand his ground and insist that the child woke up. He had to force himself to keep tapping M-21's bottom, until the boy stopped his whining.

"Good morning," the scientist whispered, smiling when the boy sleepily grumbled at him once more.

"Mm'ning Ff'anken," he murmured rubbing at his eyes with tiny fists. There had been casts on those arms, up to three days ago.

"Will you walk, or would you like to be carried?" Truthfully, there was nothing wrong with his ward's legs. But, after being brutalized by an overgrown bully, Frankenstein felt that the werewolf was entitled to a bit of spoiling-

"...c'n walk..."

-which was always going to be declined, apparently.

"That's not what I asked," Frankenstein replied, taking the boy's hand regardless, "but I will accept that answer."

Frankenstein led him out of the room and down into the living room. Setting him down on the couch, he allowed him to capture a few more minutes of sleep as he went ahead and began preparing breakfast. The smells soon roused the other members of his household and, one by one, they all joined the scientist and the young werewolf.

Seira's gentle voice drifted into the kitchen as she led M-21 away for a bath. Her exact words were lost, covered up by the sound of the little one's grumbling, and the rustle of Regis as he prepared their belongings for school. Tao and Takeo were the next to shuffle down. The hacker bounding with all the exuberance of a puppy, while the sniper silently slid into the room. Both immediately migrated towards the coffee pot, casting wary glances at him.

Frankenstein gave them a tired smile as he flipped a pancake, and they relaxed slightly.

"How's M-21?" Tao ventured, pouring a large mug of coffee. A very large mug.

Frankenstein eyed it skeptically. He kept on frowning at it, until Tao finally got the message.

"He's doing much better," he replied, smiling brilliantly once he saw the caffeine being split into two mugs. "His fever's been greatly reduced, and he's been staying awake for longer."

M-21 had also been sleeping for longer periods without nightmares, but Frankenstein was sure that he didn't need to mention it. They'd all noticed the distinct lack of screeching in the middle of the night, he was sure.

"Will you be sending him to school then?" Takeo asked, taking the second mug from Tao. Confusion marred his features when Frankenstein shook his head. "Why not? If he's doing much better, then shouldn't he be able to resume his schooling?"

"While his internal bleeding has stopped, his temperature is still very high, Takeo."

The sniper's gaze sharpened. "Didn't you say that his fever was lowered as well?" he shot back, as if he were daring Frankenstein to renege on his words.

As if he would take the child and flee, if he found that Frankenstein was unreliable. The only thing stopping him, the scientist surmised, was the fact that he would have to take M-21 back to the Union, if he did.

Again, Frankenstein sighed. He began putting their breakfast on plates as he contemplated his words.

Tao and Takeo were much more stable than M-21, and their modifications were more complex. Illness, let alone illness in unmodified humans, was most likely an unfamiliar concept for them.

"His fever is still high enough to be dangerous, for a regular human."

Takeo nodded, his face smoothing out into an unreadable slate. "So you will both remain home for a little longer?"

A tempting thought, but an ill-advised one, considering the amount of paperwork that he just knew was waiting for him. "He's coming to work with me today," Frankenstein sighed, turning his back on them as he motioned for them to take a few plates and follow him into the dining room. His right hand ached at the thought of the veritable mountain of paper. "I have a very important meeting today, and I can't afford to miss it. M-21 however, can be in the office while I conduct my meeting."

He set his cargo down on the table and paused, hands resting on the back of a chair. He'd need both hands and then some, if he wanted to take stock of all the times that his colleagues of years past had ever needed to bring a young child to the factory. Or, in more recent cases, the office. "It might even be expected, in fact."

When he looked at the two DA-5 members, he was a bit surprised to see a calculating glint in Tao's eyes. He'd thought that the hacker had finally been satisfied with the results of his previous tests of Frankenstein's reactions. Apparently he'd been wrong.

"Ya sure that you're not only taking him because you think that everybody else thinks you should?"

For a split second, Tao's easy grin fell away, replaced with something colder. More clinical.

Then it returned, warm enough to melt the ice in the freezer, and the meat in the deep freeze. His eyes however, remained frozen.

Frankenstein pursed his lips. It seemed that it was finally time to place all of his cards on the table. Because, depending on his next answer, he'd never earn the hacker's complete trust.

Honesty would be the best policy, at this moment.

He smiled at the two men as he stretched a hand out to the hallway, where Seira was just emerging with a freshly showered and, surprisingly, coherent child.

"Well," he started, giving Seira a grateful nod as he gently lifted M-21 into his arms, "I'd be lying if I said that that wouldn't be an added reason to keep him close." He tweaked the child's nose, relishing the fact that the boy was feeling well enough to bat his hand away.

Still smiling, he swept over to join his patiently waiting master at the table.

M-21 was in pain. Raizel was certain that he could feel that pain, despite the fact that he'd been unable to sense the emotions of the teachers once they were in the administration wing, and he was in his classroom.

In his mind's eye, he could see the youthful face, contorted in pain, as it had been for those first few nights. The wet, hacking coughs drifted into the room, echoing around and drowning each of the human professor's words.

When it became unbearable, Raizel swallowed his recalcitrance and peered into the minds of his unconcerned colleagues, if only to discover how they could ignore the sound.

…the sound was the product of his own subconscious? That would not do.

That was how he found himself standing on the inside of Frankenstein's office, listening to the child's ragged breathing as he slept on the sole sofa in the room.

His friend had run from the room only a few minutes after Raizel had joined him in his office, but not before leaving him with explicit instructions on what should be done if the young one woke before his return.

Raizel had almost been sorely tempted to cut the human off as he gave a staggeringly large list that he had no hope of remembering. Decorum, however, kept his mouth shut.

Barely.

But, a victory was a victory nonetheless, and Frankenstein was allowed to list duties and plans and contingency plans, right up until he was forced to leave or risk missing the meeting entirely.

In a few seconds, his feet had taken him from the center of the room, and over to the sofa. Leaning over, he used a single finger to stroke a plump cheek. A memory of the recently mottled skin rose to the fore of his mind, causing him to frown.

The assassin that Tao and Takeo had called their teammate had caused the boy grievous bodily harm.

Frankenstein, to his credit, had tried to keep the full extent of the damage from them. But, such a level of suffering was impossible to hide. Even if one was as talented as Frankenstein.

As if he sensed Raizel's disquiet, M-21 drew back with a whimper. When the boy squirmed and let out a breathless cry, he realized what was going on.

Placing a hand at M-21's side to prevent him from moving anymore, Raizel winced at the feel of a section of ribs as they flailed about. Every time M-21 inhaled, that particular area dug into his lungs, the pressure only being relieved when he exhaled.

Raizel frowned once more.

Blood had already been collecting in the boy's lungs, because of the stab wound that Shark had delivered. With this...Raizel's mind blanked, and he drew on Frankenstein's knowledge for more assistance.

With the 'flail chest', M-21's ribs were bruising the boy's lungs. Already, there was blood pooling within, and air escaping his lung.

Frankenstein would have to cut the boy open, in order to repair this damage. At M-21's age, there was no way that his body would be able to heal without assistance.

Or...

Frankenstein would worry if he ever found out what he was about to do. But the child was in pain, and Raizel...h-he couldn't let the boy suffer any more than he already had. He wouldn't let the boy suffer.

Not when he was so young, with so much more of his life ahead.

The thought of such a thing was inherently abhorrent, for some reason.

Glancing around to make sure that they were indeed alone, the Noblesse began funneling his power into the child's chest. The infantile bone resisted his efforts at first, adamantly committing to their positions. But, at Raizel's insistence, they began to ease into their proper positions.

Through it all, M-21 wore a grimace. Once it was finished though, he heaved a sigh of relief and burrowed further into his blanket and the couch.

Drained by the effort, Raizel sank into a nearby chair and closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened them again, there was a faint sense of pressure against his torso.

Glancing down, Raizel froze at the sight of the white blanket draped across his upper body. How had..? He looked up, scanning the seemingly empty room for M-21.

"You're up."

Raizel looked down at his feet. A pair of grey eyes blinked back up at him.

"Where's Franken?" M-21 asked. He might have added on something else, but the rest was lost to his yawn. His eyelids began drooping, and, as if it would stop him from yawning once more, he began to crawl into Raizel's lap. "...'m ribs don't hurt no more."

"They've healed," Raizel informed him.

The boy yawned again, curling up against his chest. "...'s good, right...?"

"Yes, it is."

Another yawn. "Good."

Raizel held himself stiffly as he allowed the wolf pup to make himself comfortable. Once the boy was settled, he allowed his hand to rest atop his head.

Frankenstein had been doing so with increasing frequency, during the past few days. He'd claimed that the motion had proved to be soothing, for M-21.

However, now that he was here, running his hand through the boy's hair, he wondered if his friend had also been finding comfort in the motion.

M-21 shifted beneath his hand, and Raizel looked down, slightly curious as to what he would do next.

The boy however, seemed content to allow the question in his heart to go unsaid, if even for a few moments more.

Raizel's hand resumed its path, combing through the grey locks. He stroked his head in silence, mindful to avoid the burn of M-21's desire, lest he unwittingly intrude upon his thoughts.

His hand fell away when M-21 began moving again. But, before he could glance at the boy, his vision was filled with grey.

Raizel blinked, and the grey retreated, just enough for him to see the full face.

"I..." M-21 began, hesitancy clouding his voice, hanging around him like a dark curtain. "Can...can I-" he swallowed, and fell silent.

His mind, however, was a cacophony of half-formed questions and thoughts. Nothing would stay, flitting into being and dissipating just as quickly as they had come.

"I wanna-"

The rubble.

The pile of rubble that had trapped M-21's comrade loomed, higher and more daunting than Raizel had ever seen it, whenever it graced the little one's thoughts.

He blinked, his hand resuming its path across the top of M-21's head. "I'm sure that he would not mind if you were to go and visit him." He paused, using his fingers to loosen a knot in the child's hair. "I will accompany you."

The pup gave him a weak smile. "Can...can I bring some flowers too? I wanna pick flowers for him, because...because..."

It flashed across his mind's eye, almost too quickly for him to get a proper impression. But Raizel had seen it.

He smiled. "As many as we can."

#noblesse #Cadis Etrama Di Raizel #frankenstein #M-21 #tao #takeo #Part of Children Talk

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translations-by-aiimee · 3 years

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Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 7

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

TW for this chapter: Suicide Attempt

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 7 - Panic in the Medicated Bath

Song Qingshi searched the warehouse all night and finally found old robes made of red ice silk. He dismantled the decorative formation above, handed it over to the valley servants, and asked them to modify them to look like inner robes overnight. Then, he quietly put them on the bedside of Yue Wuhuan along with the new cotton gown.

The next day, Yue Wuhuan was shocked when he saw this ice silk robe.

Song Qingshi has urged him up from outside the door: "Hurry up, let's go for a new treatment."

"Yes, Master." Yue Wuhuan knew that he had changed masters, so he didn't dare to think too much. He put on his clothes and went out in a hurry, feeling much more comfortable in this outfit.

Song Qingshi took him through the corridor and went to the alchemy room next door. This was originally a forbidden place in the Medicine King Valley. A place where the original body used animals and humans to experiment with various medicines. It was also the place where the valley servants were most afraid of entering. Song Qingshi complied with the "Declaration of Helsinki" and rejected any human experiment that violated ethics. Fortunately, when he took over being the Medicine Master, there were not many test items left by the original body. He immediately released what he could release and helped those that needed help, and then changed it to a treatment room. The remaining specimens and general teachers are placed in other rooms - these were the big treasures of medicine, and he would study slowly when he had some free time.

Yue Wuhuan was walking towards the alchemy room and found that more than one valley servants cast sympathetic glances his way, and he became a little nervous. After entering the alchemy room, when he saw Song Qing take out a medicine vat big enough to fit a person in, he became more paranoid.

Song Qingshi didn't notice his anxiety. He threw the various medicinal materials that had been counted ahead of time into the tank, then poured water and used the alchemical fire in his body to control the temperature. After the water in the tank turned red, he turned back and said: "Take off your clothes and get in."

Yue Wuhuan stood still, his eyes stiffened when he looked at him.

"Don't be afraid," Song Qingshi finally remembered that he had forgotten to explain. "The Prince’s Plume Expelling Decoction is a medicinal bath. It won't cause discomfort."

Yue Wuhuan hesitated for a moment before stretching his hand to the belt and untying it.

Song Qingshi turned around, sat down with his back to him, not peeking at him entering the bath.

Yue Wuhuan breathed a sigh of relief. He quickly removed his clothes, and stepped into the bloody medicinal water. The hot liquid medicine penetrated into the skin, causing a slight tingling sensation, but there was indescribable comfort. He took a deep breath, relaxed completely, and suddenly sank his whole person into the water. He didn't expect that the water would overflow because it was too full. It splashed on Song Qingshi’s neck, ears and hair. A pale red flower blossomed on his white robe.

For most Daoists, the robe was a very important thing and any damage would cause heartache.

Yue Wuhuan realized his mistake and sneaked out of the water quietly. He hid in the tank and peeked out, worried that he would offend Xianzun.

Song Qingshi didn't care what happened. He stared at the bluestone on the ground in a daze. After a while, he discreetly shook the water droplets on his hair.

Yue Wuhuan picked his words carefully and asked cautiously: "Master, will you turn around so that this slave can clean you?"

Song Qingshi lowered his head and looked at the bluestone more attentively: "You are bathing, you can't peek." In his world view, it was reasonable for doctors to check the patient's physical condition during treatment, but if the doctor peeks at the patient trying to take a bath, it was morally corrupt and shameless.

Yue Wuhuan pondered these words for a long time, and guessed: "Does Master dislike that this slave's body is too dirty?"

Song Qingshi shook his head and whispered: "You don't like being watched."

"Master jokes." Yue Wuhuan's eyes hardened, and he was silent for a moment, peeking out of the water. His long hair wet sat on his shoulders, just like a mermaid who just came out of the sea. His body was otherworldly, and his muscles were perfectly proportioned with no hint of fat. His waist was slender enough to be held with one arm, but there was hidden power inside. He leaned against the edge of the bath, approached Song Qingshi’s ear, blowing lightly. His phoenix eyes were extremely charming, the red tear-shaped mole was so gorgeous that it could charm people’s hearts, and his voice was as tempting as the devil. "What is there not to see on this slave's body? The people who have seen it. . . there were too many to count. They all say that the slave's body is very beautiful and defined, and it can stop a man in his tracks. It was made to be adored. . ."

Song Qingshi quickly interrupted him, repeating: "You don't like being watched."

After Yue Wuhuan watched him for a long time, he said hoarsely: "This slave doesn't care anymore."

Song Qingshi didn't know how to explain, but insisted: "You don't like it."

Can he refuse just because he doesn't like it?

Yue Wuhuan thought this was ridiculous. In the years when he was just sent to accompany guests, he was coaxed to say that he didn't like it and didn't want it. The result was only meant to find his weaknesses for their amusement.

He didn't like to be seen, so that meant he was forced to show the most unbearable postures to everyone in the square and at banquets time and time again.

He doesn't like saying those lewd things, so he was tortured by various drugs and instruments of torture until he learned to use his voice to add to the excitement. . .

Until he abandoned his sense of shame, gave up his dignity, and pretended to enjoy these things.

He had known for a long time that in the eyes of these stupid cultivators, he was just a beautiful toy, without emotions, existing just to be moulded into whatever his master wanted. He often wished that he could go mad and be stupid, like most slaves, and lose his ability to think. He could mindlessly live a dog-like life and using his body to please his master.

It's a pity that there was always a trace of clarity in his heart, coldly examining his embarrassing self, and then cutting him to pieces. . .

Maybe he had already gone crazy. . .

He couldn’t tell when the fire rose slowly. The temperature of the potion was getting hotter and hotter. Yue Wuhuan’s face also became hotter and hotter, but he couldn’t feel the scorching heat and dipped his head into the bloody-red potion until water flooded up his nose and he couldn't breathe. He didn't want to get up, hoping to just stay submerged forever so that the hot water could clean the filth off his body, preferably right down to his bones.

Song Qingshi noticed something was wrong from the quietness behind him. He turned his head and found that he had been distracted when they were speaking and did not control the Red Lotus fire well. The water temperature rose several degrees and it was so hot that Yue Wuhuan had disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Song Qingshi didn't move cautiously, got up and rushed over, reaching into the tank to get the person out.

The wet beauty was dragged into his arms. His eyes were closed and his limbs drooped feebly. His long curling hair clung to his fair skin, dripping onto the ground, making the Acacia Seal on his back shimmer. Song Qingshi's mind was clear. He quickly laid the person on the ground, confirmed he still had a pulse and started CPR.

Yue Wuhuan spit up water and opened his eyes. He was surprised to find that Song Qingshi’s face was so close to his. He could even see his own reflection in his clear, black eyes. Because of the heat from the tank, Song Qingshi's eyes were heated and red, with water droplets clinging to his long eyelashes. He looked like a naive and innocent boy, nothing like an ancestor of the Nascent Soul sect who had practiced for nearly a thousand years, deceiving and cheating death itself.

He hadn't recognized the other party's true identity by the river at the time. He had wanted to sympathize with a man who would never experience an unjust death.

Yue Wuhuan's thoughts became more and more chaotic. He curled up subconsciously, and all kinds of messy memories flashed in front of him. The tenderness in his chest and the remaining warmth on his lips made him a little confused between reality and his memories as if he had returned to when he was punished by his masters.

Scholar-Tyrant Song almost failed his class, so scared that his soul almost flew away. His movements were as fierce as a tiger, relying entirely on instinct. After Yue Wuhuan woke up, he breathed a sigh of relief. However, he realized that there were many ways to treat drowning in the world of cultivating immortals, and there was no need to use modern first aid at all.

He wouldn't be able to clearly explain this. . .

It was standard for medical students to perform CPR on a drowning victim. Regardless of whether it was someone beautiful or ugly, a child or an old man, he would do it without hesitation. Song Qingshi was a little embarrassed that he hadn't figured out the best first aid technique for the immortal world ahead of time, but he can worry about that later. He just had to figure out how to explain it.

Yue Wuhuan had lost the focus in his eyes. He slowly unfolded his body, no longer covering it up, like a fish that was forcibly dragged ashore to die, preparing to be slaughtered.

Song Qingshi quickly turned his face away, closed his eyes, and apologized honestly: "I'm sorry, I made a mistake with the temperature of the water."

"It's not Master's fault," Yue Wuhuan's eyes were open, but he couldn't make out anything around him. He was listening, but he couldn't understand what was being said. He repeated his standard answer, "It's my fault, it's my fault. . ."

This is the truth that he had paid a heavy price to learn and had been instilled in him over and over again, always reminding him how to live.

"Wuhuan, you are so beautiful, you were born to be played with."

"Wuhuan, it's your body that seduces men, so it must be abused."

"Wuhuan, it's because you are so aloof that it makes me not want to stop."

"Wuhuan, you are a monster born for sex."

"Yue Wuhuan, it's all your fault."

. . .

"My fault, my fault, my fault. . ." Yue Wuhuan kept repeating numbly, "It's all my fault."

Because he was the wrong that existed in the world.

Song Qingshi took off his robe and put it on Yue Wuhuan, and suddenly realized that the mental state of the person in front of him was very fragile, as though he were caught in a terrifying trap. He thought for a while and gritted his teeth. He stretched out his hand to slap him but hesitated, so he got up and brought a bucket of cold water next to him. He used the freezing technique and poured it down suddenly over his head. Yue Wuhuan was shocked by the cold, and his mind cleared somewhat. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to give him the Tranquil Mind Spirit Calming Pill to take.

"Master?" Yue Wuhuan came to his senses, a little confused.

"It's okay." Song Qingshi took the towels and clothes he had prepared earlier, wrapped him up layer and layer like a dumpling, and then gave a rational explanation, "You were hallucinating because you almost drowned."

Yue Wuhuan nodded blankly.

Song Qingshi determined that he had wrapped the dumpling tight enough. He stopped, satisfied, and ordered: "Wear more in the future."

Yue Wuhuan looked at him and asked anxiously: "This slave can wear more?"

Song Qingshi eagerly educated him: "Autumn is coming soon. It's going to be cold. You must wear more to avoid catching a cold."

"Thank you Master for your pity." Yue Wuhuan responded softly as soon as he was sure that he was not toying with him. He clutched his clothes tightly. For some reason, he suddenly remembered that when he first entered Golden Phoenix Manor, he was forced to take off all his clothes and was reduced to being a plaything.

Now, this seemingly deceptive man had personally helped him put on his clothes piece by piece, as though he were trying to convince him of something. . .

Because the medicated bath had been interrupted, the effect had not been fully achieved.

Song Qingshi busied himself adding water to the medicine tank and re-adjusting the temperature.

Yue Wuhuan sat quietly on the ground watching him work for his sake, lost in thought. Suddenly, he later realized that the never-ending burning sensation in his body had died down. He moved his body slightly and was surprised to find that the sensitivity caused by drugs had also greatly decreased, and the friction of the cloth was no longer causing him discomfort.

He tried to find an answer, but couldn't understand it. He finally plucked up the courage to ask, "Master, what is the purpose of the Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction. . .?"

"Huh?" Song Qingshi stopped and froze for a while. He found that he had again fallen into the scholar-tyrant's bad habit. His mind was moving too fast. He always felt that others would understand as long as he gave a name or an answer, regardless of whether others were following his thoughts or not.

Song Qingshi was a good academic who knew how to accept his mistakes and correct them. He reorganized his words several times in his mind and chose the simplest explanation, "Your body has been corroded by many drugs, so it causes great discomfort. The Prince's Plume Expelling Decoction can be used to remove the drug residues in your body. This medicinal bath needs to be taken five times, and the last two times will be taken with Muscle Generating Flower and Snow Toad Cake added to help repair the old wounds. When that happens, it might be itchy and uncomfortable but we can't use anesthetics. Don’t worry, you just need to endure that stage, and the body will return to its original state. . ."

Song Qingshi couldn’t bear to say it: Those people didn’t care about whether Yue Wuhuan lived or died. All kinds of aphrodisiacs were used uncontrollably on him, causing conflicts of various drug properties in his body and residual excess. If the drugs had continued to be used, he wouldn't have made it another few years.

"I was overdosed on drugs. . . Yes, they thought I was boring," Yue Wuhuan wrapped his clothes tightly around his frame, reluctant to let go. He hesitated for a long time but decided to control the unwillingness in his heart and explain clearly what Song Qingshi would figure out sooner or later. He was so confused that he once again forgot how he was supposed to address himself, "Master, without the medicine, my body will not respond to men. You won't be able to find pleasure in me. I-I'm not used to those things, only with the help of drugs. . ."

Song Qingshi interrupted his incoherent speech: "Don't do things that make you uncomfortable."

"You don't need to be nice to me." The more Yue Wuhuan opened his heart, the more fear he felt. He was like a bewildered child, desperately saying, "I have nothing, the only thing I can give you is this body. . ."

Song Qingshi realized that he wasn't in a good emotional state right now and turned away. He knew he should do psychological intervention now, but the words in his heart that he had practiced thousands of times all disappeared the minute he opened his mouth. He couldn't say anything sweet and comforting. He was clearly extremely upset, but in the end, his thoughts could only be condensed into two words: "You have."

The Yue Wuhuan in his heart was the kid who had practiced his swordsmanship under the peach blossom tree, the boy who dreamt of becoming a cultivator with a mortal body.

The Yue Wuhuan he saw in his eyes was a soaring phoenix in the heavens, the brightest star in the night, but with its wings broken and covered in dust.

Song Qingshi walked step by step, firm in every step.

Yue Wuhuan tried to force himself to calm down, but he couldn't stop his body from trembling, and he wanted to retreat.

Song Qingshi squatted down on his knees and looked meaningfully into his eyes.

Yue Wuhuan felt that he couldn't retreat.

Song Qingshi promised word by word: "I will and return to you whatever you had before, and I will give you everything you want."

Yue Wuhuan's breathing became short. He still couldn't understand what this promise meant, but he understood the seriousness and determination in Song Qingshi's eyes. He asked carefully: "What do you need me to do?"

Song Qingshi asked: "Don't try to commit suicide again, okay?"

Yue Wuhuan thought for a long time and finally nodded.

#mistakenly saving the villain #mistakenly saving the villain translation #chinese bl #chinese novel #english translation #yaoi novel #song qingshi #yue wuhuan

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blackcherrykiss · 3 years

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BLOOD BOUNDARIES - Enhypen OT7 Fanfic (ch.6)

[CH.1] [CH.2] [CH.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] previous chapters

[CH.7] next chapter (unavailable, check back or follow for updates!)

genre: vampire au, romance, drama, mystery, thriller

note: written inspired by enhypen's storyline, given-taken lyrics & teasers. please keep in mind all members are apart of this fanfic and the main theme is mystery/drama!

*P.S swear words are used (i try not to use them often lol but i feel they added to the emotion in the dialogue) the beginning lowkey not proofread sorry happy readings!

"I sensed you were here." He commented sternly as he stood up from the piano bench.

You stepped back, "Y-you just play really well... Didn't mean to be a creep." You get shy with shivers after realizing he knew you were around. From what you recall, you were absolutely silent.

His wordless response was a cold signal to leave. And so you did. Whipping your head back behind you to see people begin to exit their rehearsal rooms. You left Jay alone as he probably wished, mindlessly waiting for your roommates to storm out. The doors along the hall were now wide open so that you could search the rooms. Like a scavenger hunt, you went in and out of each music room, clueless as to which one you would find your friends in.

"Y/N?" You hear Hyesun before you could even step foot into one of the larger sized rooms along the hall. You slung your head up in surprise to see your roommates chatting with faces you were tired of seeing.

"Long time no see." Heeseung visibly bit down on the tip of his tongue causing your emotions to run wild. You were irked to see Nana, Hyesun and Dahee (in case you forgot these are the names of y/n's dormmates) with Jaeyun, Heeseung and Sunghoon.

"Haha..." You laugh uncomfortably at the overwhelming mixture of people.

"We were just thinking about having a party before the upcoming long weekend," Sunghoon plastered a dark smile that you found strangely annoying. He had some corrupt aura and every bit of your gut felt alarmed by him.

"Jungwon is in the next room over, you should ask him to come here," Dahee said calmly and reassuringly. If anything all of your roommates looked unexpectedly comfortable and relaxed in the presence of some of the school's hottest boys. You imagined your friends to be flustered since they had secretly fangirled to you about them during late-night girl talks. It seemed they had become genuine friends instead of fangirls. It made you question your intuition and trust issues. Maybe it was just you overreacting and these boys were friends, not threats.

Nodding your head, you run off to where Dahee had mentioned Jungwon was. Chasing until you met a closed door with a dim light shining through its' crystallized glass. Listening close you could hear Jungwon sing softly through the door, making your heart rate rise a bit. Like a fool, your heart was going in circles. You focus your eyes through the bits of glass that didn't distort your vision to see Jungwon in pure grace.

"He sings pretty well doesn't he?" You felt a whisper brush the conch of your ear. Not even bothering to see who the whisper belonged to, you agreed.

"Yeah... I've never heard him sing before." You blush at yourself, finally taking a look to see who you were even talking to.

Your gaze met a pair of sharp cut out eyes, "If I heard a person sing like that, I'd be convinced I'm in love with them." Kim Sunoo taunted, trying to make it obvious that your feelings of interest were on full display, even to a stranger. "You might get hurt though, being in love with Jungwon." His voice was a deep frequency that hummed in the bloodstream of your ears.

"Why would it hurt?" Your curiosity getting the best of you.

"He's capable of things you don't want to imagine," Sunoo fakely sighed, his breath hitting the side of your neck. "Jungwon's truly a bad boy. Playing around such a delicate flower." And with that said, Sunoo swung the door right open.

Jungwon abruptly stopped mid sentence, startlement creating a pale cast over his face, "Y/N? What are you doing here?" Jungwon laughed a bit to himself, a little embarrassed after the fact you had probably heard him sing.

"She was standing outside since the beginning of the song." Sunoo smiled smugly before walking out, leaving you in the icy room alone with Jungwon.

"I didn't want to interrupt... That's not even the point... I came to tell you that my dormmates are in the other room talking with the guys."

"The guys?"

"You know... Sunghoon and them... I-I'd really appreciate if you were just there Jungwon." You were sincere because, for some reason, he looked lonely. You would also really feel more at ease with Jungwon around and you hoped your sincerity reached him.

Jungwon had put on a concerned face before dropping it, realizing he was overreacting."Oh. Alright... I'll be there in a few minutes." Jungwon got up, shuffling his sheet music stand into a neat stack that hid in the corner. He had responded in a way that was much calmer than you expected. Perhaps you were expecting him to lash out about being around his friends?

"But Jungwon I want to ask you something..." You hated the secrets between the two of you, it was a mystery game you didn't want to play anymore, "Can you just explain what your relationship with Sunoo... Not even Sunoo, the rest of the guys."

He stopped in his tracks, knowing you were tired of his lies. "We're all orphans from the same orphanage. We just never got adopted." He spoke bluntly in a cold and rushed tone. His answer was enough to have you not ask any more questions about their relationship as it seemed too personal and insensitive of you to keep asking. "Since we were all too old to stay at the orphanage, some social workers came and took us to live in a house together. The house is just on the outskirts of the school but we only go there for long weekends and breaks when there is nobody on campus..." The realization of when Jungwon had said Heeseung was his dormmate came back to you. "They're like my brothers. But, some bad things happened to them in an incident we had a couple of years back at this carnival.. We were never the same after that." Jungwon had gotten somewhat emotional blurting it all out. He had choked up as you heard his words full of frustration built up in his throat. When you looked deeper into him, you found your heartache as his eyes glittered with tears.

"I-I trust you Jungwon. I'm so sorry I must've put you in an uncomfortable situation." You felt like an awful human being hearing his story.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm being too protective with you over those guys. I'm sorry about that. I just see you and get worried. They've become bad people..." He slid his fingertips from his forehead up until they tangled with the roots of his hair, closing his eyes to conceal his emotions.

You could've just hugged him right then seeing him in the midst of crying but your mind was a haze, foggy with not wanting to cross the unspoken boundaries between the two of you. The skinship of hugging was still considered too much for your friendship and you weren't openly ready to have the feelings of endearment that come with carrying out such an intimate gesture. You knew by being in such close distance with him would make you a fool for love.

"I think we should go to the others." You darted with a sudden wall forming between the both of you. You shuddered in pain with your cold remark after Jungwon had just revealed something so deep and vulnerable to you. Even if Jungwon had just told you an intimate part of his identity it was like he became more of a stranger to you. It seemed everything Jungwon was saying was quite true but still Sunoo's words had scarred your subconscious of falling in love with him or even merely liking him. Jungwon had said the boys were bad people but what excluded him from them?

You made your way back, leaving Jungwon to be alone and cool down from whatever you had just made him think of. Every second, regretting you didn't just wrap your arms around him and comfort him. Had it not been for Sunoo, maybe you would've trusted there was nothing more to what Jungwon than what he had just said.

"Did you find Jungwon?" Dahee lifted her eyes off of Sunghoon to yours. You got deja vu when you saw Sunghoon staring at Dahee with the same eyes he used during the commotion at the library.

"Yeah, I think he's just packing up his stuff right now..." You gulp awkwardly as everyone had settled into smaller groups. You think your eyes were deceiving you when you noticed Sunoo now in the room, being quick to withdraw from the conversation he was having with Hyesun and Nana to approach you.

"You don't look well. Something happen between you and Jungwon?" A wicked bubble of laughter rising in his chest.

"Not at all..." It was half true half not. Nothing had really happened mentally or physically but emotionally, there was something.

"Interesting because I was just asking those two girls about you and Jungwon. It seems you two are a lot closer than I anticipated."

"We're just friends, we're just getting closer these days."

"Sweetheart, he's not really trying to be your friend, right? He's just using you like how these boys are doing with your girl friends right now."

"Using us? Using me? Our relationship isn't that shallow. Maybe your dimwit friends would do that but I know Jungwon." You were offended by his assumption, who was Sunoo to claim such an idea?

"What makes you think you know him?" Sunoo laughed gravely at your statement. "I've heard a lot about you from Heeseung and Jaeyun, Y/N." Sunoo used your name. It seemed you both knew each other's names without having to directly say it or formally introduce yourselves.

"I'm flattered I'm that pretty enough to them that they would talk about me, Kim Sunoo." You used his name in the same power he had used yours in a sentence.

"More than just pretty, you should watch yourself. The pretty girls of this school don't last very long in this school."

"And why is that?"

"I think you'll find out soon enough." Sunoo snickered while swaying himself up and away after looking at the doorway.

"It looks like a party in here." Jay had entered with an arm hanging around Jungwon. You hadn't realized how packed the room was until Jay mentioned it.

"Yeah and we're planning one right now." Heeseung spat in a jokingly annoyed tone at Jay.

"A party???" He laughed, "If the school finds girls with us outside school grounds or even near the dorm we'll all be fucking expelled." Jay raised his scratched brow in interest as to Heeseung's response.

"Yeah as if the teachers are even awake super late at night. Literally, no one monitors the halls at night." Heeseung let out an airy scoff from across the room. You and your roommates were all flustered at the plan of a party so late at night. You were embarrassed your mind was even in that direction. "Our place is not far from here Jay, calm the fuck down."

"H-hey I think us girls will head off to eat, we'll settle the plans another time." Nana made eye contact with all the girls as a signal to exit. It seemed the mood took a bitter turn when Jay had entered.

It was an awkward scurry out the door as Nana pulled Hyesun with her. You shortly followed, looking behind you to see Jungwon give a lifeless stare at the ground. Your eyes focusing in on Sunghoon who whispers ever-so closely to Dahee. Whatever he told her, it tinted her face a plush pink.

"Dahee let's go." You glared at Sunghoon before putting on a sweet smile toward Dahee. You couldn't just watch Sunghoon act like such a flirt to Dahee, not when you knew something was also going on between him and Kyungeun.

...

Dahee hums beside you as Nana and Hyesun walk in front. The four of you were quiet, not one of you bringing up the encounter with the boys.

"Do you guys actually want to have a party with them?" You interrupt the silence.

"Y/N they are the hottest guys at our school, do you think we're going to pass on the opportunity?" Hyesun answers.

"Jaeyun told me he and Heeseung could get a couple of drinks from the town over the weekend." Nana added.

"Drinks?! How? Were literally all minors?!" You freaked out like a child.

"Not sure... I do admit though... I'm scared we'll get caught." Nana admitted making you feel reassured knowing she was leaning more toward not having a party.

"What else did you guys already discuss about the party?" You asked, hungry for the details.

"Apparently they've got a place really close by to here. I guess they live together?" The thought of what Jungwon had said to you earlier about the boys all being orphans came back to you.

"Where exactly is there place?"

"Somewhere in the woods of school." _________ author here lol just want to check in and make sure everyone remembers everything from the very first chapter :-) i told you guys that stuff mentioned in early chapters have big significance in the later chapters! Also feel so bad there are so many characters to keep track of LOL I will make a profile of all the characters once everyone is introduced.

Please leave feedback if you have any and thank you for being patient!

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opalmaplehibiscus · 4 years

Text

Love of a Fox and a Hunter

Hello @ tellmesomegoodstory!! I’m so sorry that this request took so long ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥᷄⌓˂̣̣̥᷅ )‧º·˚ I really hope that you enjoy this and hope I actually wrote Rook well. I’m terribly sorry if he seems OOC though OTL

· When he first stumbled upon her, he was mesmerized

· Though it was an accident, he couldn’t believe how soft and silky her fur was, eyes bright and clear as well-cut gems

· To be able to see such a beautiful fox in the forest behind the school… He never felt so thrilled in his whole life. Heck the feeling of excitement he was feeling could rival the times when he’s watching le Roi du Lion

· But when he accidentally steps on a twig from where he was hiding, the fox snaps her head towards his direction before running away

· Disappointment and regret filled his heart as he watches her disappear, thinking she was lost and that their meeting is a mere fleeting moment

· Who would’ve thought that wasn’t the case though?

· The next few days, Rook continued to meet the fox in the woods, never once getting tired from how beautiful she was

· The fur that always shines under the sunlight with those same beautiful eyes – très bien! Beauté!

· He used his hunting skills to try to get closer to her, trying to get to see how she behaves, moves, and appear up close

· Yet, who would’ve thought that this fox was very sensitive to her surroundings? As if she could sense him when he’s 10 feet away, her eyes would meet his before she left again

· Rook couldn’t help but think that the fox was teasing him, challenging him to try to get closer to her if he can. And as a pure, honorable hunter, of course Rook took up the challenge

· His visits to the woods became more frequent as he already memorized the times the fox would appear. He even prepared the foods he often saw her ate and lay out traps, not to actually catch her though! Just to keep her stay in one spot so he could try to approach her

· The determination to get close to her was to the point that Leona and Ruggie, for once, didn’t get spied on him for a whole week

· Leona: I can finally nap in peace Ruggie: As much as I appreciate not getting my tailed pulled on, you shouldn’t be napping in the first place Leona-san!

· Soon, a month passes and the day he succeeded was a day he couldn’t forget

· He didn’t think the apples he used that day would’ve been so delicious as the fox, for once, got lost in eating it

· Rook quietly gets closer to her, concealing himself and his aura until he was actually a foot away from her

· He could hear his heart beat in his ears as crouched down and watched her, only to freeze when he noticed something strange

· Was it because of how well-kept her fur was? Nope. How she was smiling when eating the apples? Nope

· A hint of perfume coming from the fox and how elegant she was eating the apple, so clean and organized as if she was a human made the gears of his brain screech to a stop

· Know that one meme with the lady and all those math equations? That was Rook during the moment. Just…with a confused smile

· Hein? Hein? C’est quoi? Is she really a fox ????

· His curiosity gotten the best of him as he tried to reason why the fox smelled and behaved like a human, not realizing how he was subconsciously reaching out and about to grab her, until he snapped out of it when he feels the softest fur he had ever felt in his whole life

· Right after he touched her, the fox froze and turn her head toward him, finally realizing his presence

· Rook tried to make himself look friendly in the eyes of the fox, waving a hand with a “Bonjour~”

· He really shouldn’t be surprised that the fox bit his hand and ran away like usual. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t painful though

· The fox doesn’t visit the forest for some time, putting Rook under the weather. By that, Rook often mentioning to the people around him how his cheri, seul et unique l’amour went missing

· Rook: Ah~ Mon amour! Celle qu’a volé mon cœur ! Where are you ? Epel : Uuuhhh…what’s wrong with Rook-senpai ? Vil : Ignore him. He’s just crying over his fox again. Epel: Fox? Rook: Mon amour!!! I beg of you, come back!

· As he waits for her to come back, Rook starts preparing another trap, this time to temporarily catch her as he knew that the next the two meets will most likely be the last

· What seems like forever, he finally saw her again as he found her napping under a chestnut tree

· Quietly setting the trap (yeah, he carried it with him after he completed it because he’s extra like that), he waited for her to wake up and fall for it

· Good news, she fell for it. Bad news. Er, if it should even be considered bad news….The fox turned into a female human. With fox ears and tail.

· It took him a while to finally realized what had happen as the now female human continued to struggle getting out of the trap

· It was his first time seeing such beautiful person - perfect skin, clear eyes, and luscious hair

· When she yelled at him to let her go, Rook snapped out of his thoughts before freeing her

· Giving her a minute to rest, Rook grabbed her hands and looked at her with sparkling eyes

· The way her eyes widened and ears perk looked cute in his eyes as he asked her if she was a beast-person

· He ended up blushing when she was able to get out of his grip and ran away without answering his question

· To meet a beautiful beast-person and strong, physically and magician-wise too! Merveilleux! Magnifique!

· Soon enough their relationship changed to that of cat-and-mice, where Rook would try to get close and learn more about her while she would run away

· During the chase, he would often ask her questions non-stop as he tried his best to get to know her more

· Heck, he would appear and corner her at every single hiding place she knew of, making it harder for her to get him off her tracks

· Yet, for some reason, he didn’t like it when someone was close to finding out about her existence in the forest, leading to be the reason of how she escapes him as he blocked anyone that was close to seeing her from actually taking a view of her

· Overtime he realized that he actually fell for her

· It became clear to him that he liked her when someone nearly saw her in her human form when she tried to get out of one the traps, he lied on the forest’s floor again

· One thing led to another and he hid behind a tree with her in his arms, trying to keep her quiet as he waited for the student that was walking through the forest to leave the area they were in

· When it seemed safe, he released a sigh before looking at her

· He never would’ve thought that he would see her blush. And the fact that she was blushing made her seem adorable to him

· He felt his heart beating faster as he saw her struggle to stay quiet and calm – her ears pressed against her head while, surprisingly, gently gripping the sleeve of his coat

· When she finally noticed him looking at her, he couldn’t help but think that she was très mignonne

· In fact, he could arguably say that she was more like baby fox than a full grown one

· It was obvious that he was lost in thought as he got caught off guard when she shoved him and ran away but this time, not bothering to transform back into her animal form

· Blinking a couple times, he blushed before his lips curled up after realizing that he, Rook Hunt, the hunter of love, is in love

· It leads to the current situation, where he’s chasing after her again like usual. Only this time, he’s trying to get her to accept his feelings for her by carrying a bouquet of roses while running after her

· “ Mon cheri! Attend-s’il vous plaît !!” He yells, only for her to yell back that he stop chasing her

· It’s obvious that she was getting frustrated as he doesn’t stop, but instead, continues chasing her

· Though he does wishes for her to accept his feelings despite getting rejected, but would’ve respected her answer had it not for the flash of fear and hurt that he saw in her eyes

· The broken look she gave him, though only lasting for a second, made him worried and gave him warning bells. Especially, after being around her for so long, he knew something bad would happen if he were to let her run away like usual

· It doesn’t make him feel any better, never thinking she would’ve experienced something so painful to the point of making such expression….

· He could still feel his heart break when remember it

· When she suddenly stops and turns towards him, he slows down and tries to walk towards her with the bouquet but ends up freezing from where he’s standing when she threatens to burn the forest if he takes on more step

· His body feels it was poured with a bucket of ice-cold water as she growls how she hated men, especially those that were like them, going on how it was men like him that ends up just using women as they please and for their own ulterior goals

· Feeling wronged, Rook tries to say something to her, how his feelings for her were genuine and honest

· But, he ends up getting snapped at as she calls him a liar

· Rook ends up going quiet, watching and listening to her past in between the insults she throws at him

· And while doing so, he can’t help but for once, get angry

· He rarely gets angry, as he was a hunter and hunting require patience in order to catch the best prey. Yet, he could feel the grip on the bouquet tighten while his free hand twitches no thanks to the feeling of wanting to hunt….something

· C’est pathétique for man to abuse the love, the most beautiful thing in the whole entire world. And as a hunter of love, he is very. Offended.

· The anger soon turns into a simmer of fury as his eyes are looking at the crystal tears rolling down her cheeks while she, now sobs, about the amount of hurt and betrayal she faced from her previous lover

· The minute she mentions how she was a youkai, it makes Rook freeze and accidentally ask what she meant by that out loud

· To him, who thinks laughter is also another form of beauty, he didn’t think her broken, heart-wrenching laughs are beautiful. Especially when she clarifies that she wasn’t a beast-person like he assumed but a Japanese fox-demon and ends up asking that, after finding out what she was now, is he going to hunt her too like her ex-lover

· All patience Rook had disappeared in one go as he lets go of the bouquet, grab her hands and proclaims how he would never do that to her

· Keeping a tight grip on her, preventing her from escaping and ignoring the threats she throws at him, Rook looks at her right in the eyes

· His clear forest green eyes glows from the flames of anger, sadness, and the desire to heal her as he tells her that despite being a hunter, he’s a hunter of love not a hunter of killing people

· He does his best to tell her how much he loves her, telling her how he actually fell in love with her since they day he met – loving her fox appearance very much only to fall deeper for her when she showed his humanoid side to her

· He subconsciously shows desperation of trying to show his honesty and sincerity to hear as he continues to reveal how he much he adores her, that all his praises for her were all from his heart not from lip service

· He never realized that he had gotten on a knee until he tells her how even if she were to reject him, he would’ve devoted himself to protect her even if it meant betraying whomever wished for him to catch her. Because to him, she was a precious and most beautiful existence he had ever seen

· Rook could feel his heart beating pounding ferociously against his chest as he once, in a long time, felt nervous on what her reaction would be to his confession (first one didn’t count. He refuses to let it count)

· Soundlessly, he gets up and brushes the tears from her eyes with his thumbs only to end up cradling her head between his hands as he gently tries to get her to stop crying

· Once she calms down, he warmly smiles at her, asking if she was feeling better

· His smile grows bigger after seeing her nod slightly, daringly kissing the crown of her head

· At first, he didn’t catch what she said as she had whispered her answer

· But, after hearing her reply the second time, he asks for permission before kissing her on the lips with joy and passion he felt for her

· It only made him feel happier when he feels her kissing him back with her own free will while knowing that she actually felt the same way

#twst #twisted wonderland #rook hunt #hc #headcanon

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ibeatfor · 3 years

Text

evolution

3/24/21

I live by the mountains

And it wasn't even by design. It just so happened that this small little place within my budget was by the foothills of the Angeles National Forest.

It was not even a year ago when a picture of me and my then husband J was immortalized in the local newspaper as we stood arm in arm watching the fire fighting being conducted on the fire raging in our "backyard".

I remember seeing the flames atop the mountains and within a hair's breadth, witnessing in awe and horror as it raced down the spine of the mountain. I think subconsciously I knew we weren't in any real danger as it hadn't crossed the street but I think I must've tugged on Inyo's leash to get him further away from the fire, as if the few inches would've made a difference. It's human instinct to withdraw from a perceived threat. His resistance pulled me out of my head and back to reality. We were (relatively) safe, why not check it out along with the bystanders and news crew that had already begun to gather? It's also human instinct to observe -it's why we inevitably rubberneck despite swearing we won't be the one to hold up traffic like that car in front of us. So we went to check it out with the crowd, 6 feet apart of course. Arm slung across each other, mine around his waist and his casually over my shoulder, we stood there watching helicopter after helicopter dump water on the patches of flames. It was this image that the photographer captured. I recall the mountains looking beat up, barren and forlorn after the fire was put out. The black scars from the ordeal showing up starkly against the blue skies made me feel bad for my beloved mountains, how they must have suffered.

Never could I imagine that months later I would be standing in the same spot alone. This time, it would just be my own two arms clasped about my small heaving self, as if to futilely hold back the overwhelming grief, feeling much the same way I imagined my mountains to look back then-beaten up and scarred.

---

So now, some more months later, as I'm out on my daily walk, I'm struck dumb by the patches of greenery that's peeping up from the mountain face. They're scattered and patchy, awkward like a teenager who isn't sure how much space to take up, but they're green and they're there nonetheless. They grow bravely and defiantly, the scars of their ordeal scabbed over by slow growth. Fundamentally I know they didn't just spring up overnight, they've been budding since the fire was put out but it still catches me by surprise. I know this but I can't help but feel taken aback because as often as I've walked this loop, I never noticed it until recently.

I flinch as I reread my past journal entries, notably the one on January 12th. Not because it’s embarrassingly raw (it is) but because it wasn't too long ago that that memory, was my reality. While I may still instinctually recoil from the memory, I can see that I've kept pace with my mountains. They've been the metronome beating steadily in the background and living by them (by lucky happenstance), I didn't realize they were also keeping me on beat, outwardly reflecting our progress in a gradual, delightful blooming of life and healing, healing and life.

When I see the dare-to-be hopeful patches of greenery bathed in the early evening sunlight, it's human, or rather, Theresa instincts to turn my face towards the warmth of the sun, to soak in its life endowing light myself.

---

3/1/21

Red cross, ActiveSGV let- I paused in the midst of compiling my mental to do list. It felt like a lifetime ago when it was all I could do to perform the bare functions of existence. Did I get out of bed before noon? Yes? Good. Did I get out of bed without breaking down? Yes? Now that was a win. Those were hard days. And while I can get out of bed before noon and without crying more reliably now, it wasn’t so long ago that I can look back without flinching at the difficulty of the memory. The possibility of relapsing, of going back to that place, is always there. But when you feel like your life as you’ve known it is being upended, you count even the small victories. I process my observation of my mid-thought with wonder. The idea that I now tentatively have enough emotional and mental bandwidth to even consider doing something else aside from making it through the day without breaking down sends a small thrill down my spine. Now that was the win of the month!

2/19/21

We’re creatures of habits. So when it’s a habit you’ve known for years, it’s disorientating to shake things up. This past weekend was my first road trip with R and it was enjoyable, despite my initial dread over embarking on a long journey on a Friday of a long weekend (the irony hasn’t escaped me). While it was a great first road trip together, it was also…kind of weird. Even broaching the idea of taking the trip in the first place and then planning it felt strange. I didn’t know how to navigate through these uncharted waters because I’m so used to road tripping with J. We expected to adventure on long weekends because we had established that expectations years ago. It never crossed my mind that we wouldn’t go somewhere on a long weekend.

So while I enjoyed every moment of my first road trip with R, I admit J was on my mind more often than I’d like. It was as if I was leading little Theresa forward by the hand but she kept glancing back at the past, reminiscing on how I used to do x, y, and z with J. The contrast between then and now often induced feelings of loss, longing, and heightened the sense that something was amiss, like I was going against the natural order of things. From past experience, I knew that there was only one place these devious thoughts will lead me to if I left them unchecked. So before we went down that rabbit hole, I’d give her hand as much of a reassuring squeeze as I can muster and doggedly plod on with her in tow -partially because there’s nothing else to be done at this point but mostly because I want to move forward. I can’t say with much degree of certainty that things will be better ahead, but I’d like to (have to) believe they will be.

Initially I tried to convince her not to look back and to keep her eyes always ahead and when that failed, I tried bargaining with her to not look back as often. Eventually, I relented. I allowed myself to look back as often as I needed to and that offered some relief, I was able to free myself from the guilt and the need to always keep my eyes forward.

Learning grace is part of fighting the good fight and that weekend was a prime learning opportunity. I allowed myself to look back and gave myself permission to feel everything -the discomfort from what feels like a physical wrenching of myself out of a comfortable habit and familiarity, the longing for the familiarity, the excitement of the newness, and hell, the plain strangeness of the newness. I’m learning there is space and that it’s okay to hold contradictory feelings. After all, when I’m not an Olympic medalists in mental gymnastics, I’m really a plant with more complicated emotions.

---

1/12/21

Sadness accompanies me everywhere. She trails me.

The death of a dream is always heartbreaking.

Some times I gasp aloud from the pain.

It's not your heart that aches, not for me at least. The pain is a dull, slowly pulsing pain that's nestled right underneath my heart.

I stay in the house until I can't and then I walk, heading north, until I can't. On 1/12/21, I make it as far as the northern grass patch before I have to sit down.

The sun sets as quickly, the sky flares up as quickly as I'm overcome by the pain

I wonder if I appear drunk, crunching leaves and walking until I double over.

Idk who I'm glancing around for but at this point I wouldn't mind a hug from just about anyone.

---

1/1/2021

Rustle, click, thud

I settle in the car with a rustle of clothing and plug in my phone to charge with a smart click. As the phone snaps onto the magnetic phone holder with a light thud, that’s when it usually starts. At night in cold Ole Faithful the rustle, click, thud are the sounds of my thoughts preparing to play themselves out, like the din of middle school orchestra students warming up to play. I used to dread it in the beginning, the thud signaled the arrival of unbearable sadness. Unbearable sadness was like a sharpshooter that always hit the swollen sac of sadness nestled in the hollow behind my breastbone dead on every time. The burst sac would release a mixture of pain that would flood throughout my body to the tips of all my extremities, reaching every nook and cranny. Oftentimes, I’d barely make it down the street before I’d outwardly uttered an unbidden sob and hunch over the wheel in what felt like physical pain, clutching it with all my might, the tears streaming down my face.

But now that the sadness is a little older, and maybe my tears haven softened up its heart, unbearable sadness is now just sadness and sadness stands outside the passenger door waiting patiently -but ever so ominously- for me to invite it inside. I know better than to keep it waiting so it is with slight resignation that I nod my permission and it settles in and buckles up, a faithful companion on my ride home from my nighttime forays. When I come from my mom’s house which is noisy on quiet days, being alone in Ole Faithful with my silent companion makes the silence even louder.

Rustle, click, thud. Tonight, I feel out my thoughts as they parade themselves individually to me and slowly realize that they don’t all elicit as strong of a reaction as they have before. It’s as if my reaction was ammunition and as I became less volatile, the sadness, in turn, became less violent and all consuming -it just sits there. I ease Ole Faithful onto the road and begin my journey home. While I used to dread sadness’s presence, now we sit in companionable silence. I know it’ll be around for the ride for a while.

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harmonymurphy · 3 years

Text

And just for my records, I think I had the most profoundly disturbing dream of my life last night, about the sun failing. One of those dreams that wouldn’t be that disturbing to anyone I describe it to, and the physics was laughably illogical, but I’ve never experienced such a deep sense of existential dread inside a dream before. Probably one of those “you had to be there” experiences.

I’ve had dreams about serial killers after watching Forensic Files. I’ve had dreams of hauntings and demonic possessions after reading too many supposedly true ghost stories. But last night’s dream was the product of my fascination with astronomy. And that’s not something I’m willing to take a break from.

In my dream, I walked outside and noticed the lighting was wrong. It was like during an eclipse where everything is too dim but your shadow is still normal. I looked up at the sun, and it looked like Hoag’s Object. It was much bigger than it should have been, with the central part being a little bigger than a full moon, but it was dim enough that I could look right at it.

After a few minutes of panic, an emergency message was broadcast on all channels announcing that scientists at NASA had come up with a hypothetical way to study the sun’s core. They had discovered some sort of energy beam that would cause convective currents to dissipate. In my dream, the entire sun down to the edge of the core was convective. They thought if they zapped it at the sun, it would interfere with the convective layers and allow then to view the core directly. So they tried it without clearing it with the rest of the scientific community, and the beam completely shut down the sun’s convection. Not just the little spot they planned on, but the entire sun. What I could see up in the sky was the sun’s exposed core, the surrounding gas was now clear since it wasn’t producing light anymore, and the ring around the sun was the remnants of the sun’s corona. (Clearly my subconscious got really confused and squished together aspects of the sun, red dwarfs and white dwarfs, and the Trappist-1 system and how close those planets are to their sun. I’m actually a little embarrassed at how wrong the science was.)

So everyone started demanding they come up with a solution to fix the sun, and all they could come up with was maybe they could hit the sun with a nuke to restart the nuclear reactions, but it would take years for them to design and implement that plan, and they didn’t think they could produce an explosion big enough. And in the meantime, Earth was rapidly cooling. It was already feeling like late autumn outside and they expected the planet to go full Snowball Earth within twenty years. The dim light the sun’s core was putting out somehow couldn’t be used for photosynthesis by plankton, so the oceans were going to collapse by next year, and crops were going to start failing.

I went back outside and looked up at the sun again and started screaming for someone to please wake me up because this couldn’t be real. Then I had this epiphany that this was the solution to the Fermi Paradox: Every alien civilization eventually reached a point where they turned their sun off and their planet froze.

People started going crazy since everyone was going to die soon anyway. A big mob attacked our town and my sister and I were surrounded. Then this guy ran up to us and brandished this three-foot-tall sculpture made of metal plates and said it was an idol of a new god he had just discovered, and since science had betrayed us, the supernatural was our only hope. The mob attacked, and he started praying to his new god, and the sculpture zapped all the people trying to attack us. I started praying with him and briefly was able to shoot electricity out of my hands like the Emperor. After the mob fled, we got the rest of the town to form a circle and all started calling on the god, and up above us the sun’s core brightened for a few seconds, then dimmed again. The guy declared that the gods had forsaken us and all hope was truly lost, and he took his idol and left.

After that, the dream alternated between me discussing options with my sister, and going outside and begging someone to wake me up. We talked about finding the guy with the idol and getting the biggest group we could together to call on his god, but I eventually just sat down in the middle of a road and decided it was hopeless. There was no point in doing anything if we’d all be dead in twenty years. I was thinking about the books I want to write and how there was no point in that now. Every time I looked at the sun, I felt the same way I felt in the days after my father died, when I’d be kept up most of the night by panic attacks at the thought that he was gone forever. I didn’t know it was possible to feel that level of despair in a dream.

Eventually I started discussing suicide with my sister. We didn’t want to starve or freeze. Someone was handing out syringes of poison, and we each took one. But then I realized I’d have to put my chihuahua Rocky to sleep first because I refused to leave him by himself, and I just couldn’t do that. So we agreed we’d stay alive until Rocky died and then we’d end it. And then I realized I couldn’t find Rocky, and I was worried someone might try to eat him since there would be a food shortage soon, so my dream became one of those where you keep running and running but you never make any progress, and I kept looking up at the sun, consumed with the thought that everything was about to come to an end and all of human history was for nothing, and I just couldn’t believe this was actually happening to me.

And then my sister woke me up, and I have never been that happy to wake up in my life. I almost thanked her for waking me up, but then I realized I didn’t want to tell her about my dream. I just sat there and kept telling myself it was just a dream over and over, because no matter how bad and illogical the science was, no matter how backwards my mind got the details of how stars work, it had felt so real. I was going to sit with my sister while we ate supper, but I still felt so disturbed by the dream that I kept zoning out and staring off into space at nothing, so I decided to eat in my room alone.

I can point to a dozen little things from the past week that inspired the dream. Primarily it was based off my real fear of the future red giant phase of the sun - watching videos about it actually scares me. This week I had been thinking about a game called Outer Wilds that involves a time loop that always ends with their sun exploding, and while I think it looks interesting, the premise also stirs up my sense of existential dread. Other things were inspired by a song I had been listening to the previous night containing the line “I don’t want the sun to burn without you,” the Hadron Collider, stellar lifting (and probably several other things I learned about from Isaac Arthur that I’ll remember in the next few days), videos I’ve watched recently that discussed Snowball Earth and the evolution of plankton, the Chicxulub impact, that ongoing attempt to get a space probe to touch the sun with gravitational help from Venus that will take several years to complete, memories of my brother telling me scientists thought there might be a chance hydrogen bombs would ignite the atmosphere or the Van Allen belts but they blew them up anyway (never fact-checked that so don’t quote me), the concept of strange matter and how it could “infect” anything it touched, the danger of astrophysical jets from a supernova, and wondering if the sun could have habitable planets if it was fully convective like a red dwarf since the sun spins so slowly and a lot of those dangerous flares are a result of how fast red dwarfs spin. The weird supernatural elements were inspired by some stories I’ve been wanting to write lately, as well as my recent replay of the game Blue Fire with its very bleak setting and mythology. And a Youtuber I follow had recently read a creepypasta with a title that referenced solving the Fermi Paradox,

All in all, I would rather have a dozen nightmares about demons chasing me through the woods than one more nightmare based on science. I can still make myself shiver by focusing on how I felt when I looked up at the sun and realized the world was dying.

#Brevity is an alien concept to me #I wish I'd just dream about demons again #Sci-fi nightmares are so much worse

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stopeatingwhales · 4 years

Text

pirouettes x graham coxon

this has genuinely been one of my favourite things i’ve written, mainly because i adore ballet in general. i had a lot of fun writing this, so thank you ever so much to the anon who requested it x

Paring: uni graham x reader

Warnings: nothing :)

Word count: 2.024

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

Usually, like any other dancer, once practice ended I’d leave the soft toned dance halls to rest at home until the next lesson landed upon us. Everyone would be drained, mentally and physically from the excessive training. Yet, on Fridays, the neighbouring day to the channeling weekend, I’d slip in some extra rehearsal alone - regardless of my own tiredness. Over the past few weeks, me staying behind became more periodic, it becoming a significant time where I could perfect any moves I had been struggling with before, without the fear of judgement by my classmates. Since everyone would commonly be exhausted after a couple hours of strenuous practicing, this deemed to be the time I could reach deep into the root of it all, one on one, learning the truth in why I adored ballet so much.

Ballet was a skill; it wasn’t everyday you were able to find someone who knew how to balance themselves up on their toes, let alone 6 hours a day, doing arduous grand jetés and pirouettes consistently as choreography. It was a beautiful art skill, yet it resulted in tiresome after hours. Regardless, it was my life.

Fixing my hands on the rail, I relaxed myself, breathing in as I crouched down to the ground. Rising back up, I exhaled. I locked eyes with myself in the mirror placed in front of me, studying my complexion before carrying on with my previous movements. I had smudged mascara underneath my eyes, along with a small spot of smeared lipstick bridged under my bottom lip. Today brought a tale of something rather hectic; I found myself morphing trouble wherever I set foot on. Getting into arguments with friends was something everyone had to endure at some point, but no one liked it. Especially when they slap you in the face.

Nevertheless, I ignored the marks plastered viciously on my face, proceeding to cultivate my body in second. I inhaled once again, holding my stomach tight, my legs tensed. My eyes never left my leg, until the sounds of footsteps graced the silence in the room. I lifted my head up, forcing one hand on the light wooden rail as I gazed through the mirror to find who had entered. My eyes approached the sight of a man. Graham. I smiled. “Hey,”

He was sat on the light grey blocks stood by the door, used by dancers to sit down when we had our dance breaks. He reciprocated my smile through the mirror. “Hi,”

Graham and I were close friends at the university. The school had a specific part dedicated for ballet, for those who desired for a career in the art - professionally. Him and I were both doing art, yet his wasn’t the physical kind. It was the courageous, detailed, rhythmic kind. He drew with such passion, but seldom thought of showing it to the world. All of his artworks meant something, it carried a message behind it. It might be the reason why he kept himself intact, rarely finding desire to show people his work, he was scared of showing people a side of him people never ought to have come across before. The wiring of him, his thoughts, his feelings. Perhaps that was why he always craved to show me anything new he made, he wanted to connect with me on a touching level. I suppose it made me special, but his art was the special thing.

“How are you?” I giggled, confused by his quietness.

“Fine,” he answered, his lip submerging into his mouth. He had a tendency to do that, perhaps out of nervousness, regardless, it always made my heart soften for him. He wasn’t like most males you’d find waltzing around in this day and age. Graham was soft, down to earth, delicate to the touch. He was never the shouty kind; all our conversations were either fragile mumbles or cheerful chats. It made every memory cherishable, in the most touchable ways. “And you?”

Most Fridays, after his lessons had come to a close, he would stop by the ballet halls and say for a while. Ordinarily, I would feel intruded; I wanted my own time. However, whenever he walked in, everything somehow got better. The moves I was struggling with became as smooth as ice. There was something about him, something unable to name, an aura, a warming feeling that pitted in my stomach - somehow pumping intense rushes of exhilaration to work harder. Whenever he was around, I was able to work to my full potential; when I was alone, it was simply a harmful distraction. The mind is powerful, in dark ways.

I sighed as I turned my head, now looking at him. “Just practicing, as per usual,” I held my smile, my hand reaching up to my scalp as my fingernails brushed against roots in an attempt to appease myself. My head turned to the mirrors once again, where I was met with my shining reflection. “I hate how we have to tie our hair so tightly, I can’t focus half the time,”

A soft chuckle echoed through the room, my ears subconsciously perking up to the known sound. His laugh was soothing. A laugh shouldn’t be soothing, it should be rasp, amusing, careless. It was like everything he did, everything he couldn’t control, was beautiful. His giggles sounded like birds tweeting a love song in the early hazes of summer mornings. Almost like calling out for someone, a significant other, in a drunken stupor of neediness.

Graham didn’t say anything after that. Darting my head from the mirrors once again, his smooth pores reaching out towards me, nagging me for my hands to drift away from the metal bar and grip onto his nape, my thumbs reaching to his cheeks, caressing both of them in sync, counting every single pore visible to the human eye. “Don’t mind me, I’m just watching,” he said, his face resembling those starstruck from coming into contact with someone famous. I felt my cheeks heat up as I nodded, fixing my body into a clean state before shaking my head - a hint towards Graham to begin playing the music.

Once the music began pouring out of the speakers, I felt my body get lost into the music as I washed into every corner of the room. The feeling of Graham’s eyes following my every move powered me to keep pushing for my full potential during the dance. When I first started staying behind on Fridays, I thought that choreographing a solo with all the things I had struggled with previously would help strengthen myself as a dancer - and it did. Graham’s intensive stares and small remarks over how graceful my dancing was always helped me put my heart and soul into this solo; he was there, watching me, every step of the way.

As the music came to a close, I fixed my body into a pirouette with my arms enveloped above my head. I exhaled strong, heavy breaths, my tummy still sucked in to help me stretch my legs out more. Claps were the only thing playing in the room now - Graham’s clapping.

“Amazing,” he chirped, standing up from his seat and walking up to me. “You’re absolutely amazing, love,” he added, biting his bottom lip, once again. I felt an intense blush seep out of my cheeks as I dropped my leg and let my body relax.

“Thank you,” I mumbled, reaching my arms out to engulf him in a tiresome hug. I was a tiny bit shorter than him, perhaps by two or three feet. He would always make fun of it, always reaching his arms out to space challenging me to reach high five him. It was continuously a nuisance to me, but a part of me adored being made a mockery of by Graham. Especially when I’d look down in annoyance and hear Graham’s silky voice turning soft. Aww I’m sorry love, you’re just so cute.

“What do you want to do now?” Graham asked, his head resting on my shoulder, holding the small of my back as he inhaled the scent laced in my hair. I felt his head shift around a bit, trying to get more hair in his face from my ponytail, but I pretended to ignore it - I knew he would feel embarrassed if I called him out on it.

Releasing my arms from our short-lived hug, my eyes looked towards the mirror to stare at my body. My legs were coated with pale pink tights, so light you’d think they were white at first glance. The pink tutu I was wearing was the most noticeable thing about my outfit, shining more beauty in my twirls. “Want me to teach you how to pirouette?” I joked, yet seriousness was also prominent in my sentence.

“Why not?” he replied, a short laugh escaping my mouth. “What? I want to learn how to be as pretty as you are,”

His words were flying out of his mouth, to the point I was almost certain he wasn’t joking. He absolutely adored it whenever I did a pirouette, claiming it was the most gorgeous dance move to ever have been created. I felt his eyes on me, noticing my reddened cheeks. I continued looking at my body in the mirror, knowing that if I tried looking at him, I’d melt.

“Alright so, you need to straighten your body,” I said, my eyes trailing from my body to stare at him through the mirror. He was so focused, it raised a small beam to form on my face. “Then hold in your tummy so you can spin for longer,” I added, looking at him watch my every move through the mirror. He would occasionally turn his head to look at my body properly, just to make sure what he was doing was correct.

“Then you just let yourself free,” I mumbled, beginning to twirl my body swiftly. I shut my eyes, absorbing as much as I could, the peaceful sounds of the air coming into contact with my body, sounding just like waves crashing against each other as I kept my body afloat, my weight feeling lighter than a feather - I was defying gravity.

As I brought my spinning to a halt, I opened my eyes - welcoming the sight of Graham, gawking at me in admiration. I had now realised he didn’t spin at all. My cheeks shaded once again into a deep, crimson red, as I attempted to lock my eyes with him. Our bodies were frozen, our eyes speaking for us. We had never discussed what we were as a relationship, close friends was the label we always issued. However, his deep stare is telling me otherwise. It's a look of worry, intertwined with hope. He was asking me something. He was scared. I nodded slowly, all of this now making sense to me. We both liked each other, art being our stronghold, the force that brought us together. Yes, Graham, I like you too.

He grinned widely, fighting the urge to run up to me and pick me up in his arms. “Wait, I wanted to show you something,” he said, rushing to his backpack lying next to the stool he was once seated on. He brought out his sketchbook - causing me to cock my head in curiosity, my legs wandering over to him to find out what he was trying to show me.

“Here,” he said, shoving a drawing of a girl, pirouetting. Her legs were sleek, beautifully sculpted. The drawing was perfect - like any of his artworks tend to be - but this one was different; you could tell he worked on this for ages, as if the image, the inspiration, was emitted right in front of him. “It’s of you, I want you to have it,” he said, his palm scratching the back of his head.

I couldn’t take my eyes off of the drawing. He drew something… of me? I felt my eyes well up with tears as my petite fingers grazed expensive cartilage paper. “It’s perfect,” I said, looking up to him, with loving eyes.

#graham coxon #damon albarn #alex james #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #90s #music #imagine #fluff #smut #band imagines #writing #angst

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inkblotsandeggshells · 3 years

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Sorcerers and Sorceresses

Hello again!

After talking with my friend about it, I decided I still had some more to say about sex addiction. Clearly, we’re being pushed to this way of being by our modern culture, but I also notice this coming from the holistic New Age community. The most obvious example, in this regard, would be holistic sex coach Kim Anami, who I talked about in my last post. In contrast to the standard, faster kind of sex that gets referenced in movies and music, Kim Anami wants to teach people to use slower, orgasmic sex as a means to harness energy, which can be utilized to help improve your life. However, Anami claims that this level of personal control through sex cannot be achieved until you become addicted to it. While I can see the appeal for this kind of education, I remained pretty indifferent until I looked deeper into what happens when we fall prey to addictions.

When I was younger, I had thought that things like alcohol and recreational drugs were the things that led to addictions, and as long as you stayed away from those things, you were in the clear. However, we often overlook things like electronics and artificial foods like candy, which can be just as addictive as the more typical harmful substances. In regards to sex, I think it sounds like an attractive thing to be addicted to because it doesn’t necessarily harm your body or cause your teeth to decay. Even so, by becoming addicted to any substance, including orgasmic sex, it can chip away at our identities little by little until we become, as Michael Knowles says, enslaved. We become dependent on it to cope with life and it ends up controlling how we respond to our human experience. Furthermore, an addiction of any kind leaves us vulnerable to be controlled by outside forces.

This is something I became more aware of last year, during a time when I learned how easily people can be used by unseen beings when they relinquish control of themselves. One content creator who gave me a new perspective on this is a young woman named Galatea Van Outersterp, who created the YouTube channel called the Authentic Observer. Even though she creates content about storytelling and fictional works, I think she offers a refreshing perspective on what it looks like when something or someone strives to control the collective. In this way, she also raises the question of how much power we have to resist. She does this through her videos, the primary examples being her two-part video series about the story archetypes of the Sorcerer and the Sorceress. She describes these archetypes as two sides of the same coin. They both aim for absolute power and control, but they work to achieve those goals through different realms of humanity. The sorcerer is the yang aspect of this archetype that focuses on the external realm: the physical plane, the conscious and will. The sorceress is the yin aspect that focuses on the internal realm: the emotional plane, and the subconscious.

We’ll start with the sorcerer archetype. In her opinion, Galatea states that if a character has most, if not all, of these traits, then they can be defined as an evil sorcerer. These traits are as follows: They can see all, or they have eyes everywhere. They manipulate the events of the protagonist and the people around him/her to get the hero to certain places or people. They are extremely arrogant and have massive egos (which can also be their downfall). As a result of this arrogance, they often have a title, because they’re a recognized authority; they also have many followers. They have often given up something essential to humanity to gain their power, whether it’s their soul or just their morality. They often have a non-human physical form, or some kind of deformity to show their loss of humanity. Most importantly, they only desire for power and control, “power above all.”

In regards to Kim Anami teaching students to utilize BDSM in the “Well-F*cked Woman” course, she would frequently use the book “50 Shades of Grey” as a reference for this method and its alleged importance. In some of her stories, she also talks about how some of the men she has been most drawn to in the past are “smarter versions of Christian Grey.” According to Galatea, the way the sorcerer archetype is used in modern day stories is by portraying those archetypal traits through characters like abusive partners. In other words, characters like Christian Grey are definitions of this very archetype.

For example, Galatea lists off the traits of the sorcerer that Mr. Grey exhibits in the books. She observed that “he has a beyond normal ability to know what Anastasia is doing all the time because he stalks her and hacks into her phone. He manipulates not only her, but he’s also a powerful enough to manipulate events and the people around her to get her where he wants her. He’s arrogant in the extreme and believes he’s superior and has the absolute right to exert dominance over the people around him. This is particularly the case for Anastasia, as he wants her to sign his contract against her will. He’s a figure of authority and has many followers (his employees). He has also given up something essential to his humanity to gain his power: the ability to be a good person, respect others, and have healthy relationships. Finally, above everything else, all he wants is total power and control, both of his own world and of Anastasia.”

In contrast, the sorceress archetype primarily rules the internal domain. While this archetype shares similar traits with the sorcerer, Galatea describes the sorceress as primarily wanting to be adored. They use emotions and temptations rather than blatant orders and force. They are also represented by “complete and unbalanced chaos, hysteria, unpredictability and insanity.” They understand people’s deepest desires and control them by dangling these things in front of their faces. This point also gets highlighted in Galatea’s video, where she would describe sorceresses “to generally work more through an understanding of people, through intuition, really understanding people’s deepest desires.”

So the big question is how does the holistic sex practice of Kim Anami relate to the topic of being vulnerable to someone else’s control? How does this topic of orgasmic sex addictions, or addictions of any kind, relate to the archetypes of sorcerers and sorceresses? The purpose of the sorcerer and the sorceress is to show that “absolute power corrupts absolutely.” Whether addictions play a role in our lives or not, when we lose the ability to think for ourselves and take control of our response to life, we become susceptible to being controlled by beings such as these. If being “well-f*cked” means becoming attracted to men like this, or even, God forbid, marrying someone like this, than I would rather not reach such a standard at all.

During my conversations about the “Well-F*cked Woman” course with Lee Yun, I often wondered if Kim Anami herself was a sorceress in some ways. In my opinion, it seems that Kim does exhibit a few of the traits: she has hundreds, if not thousands of followers (her clients and coaches-in-training), and you could argue that she gave up part of her humanity through the use of neural therapy injections to change how her body responds to trauma. She sometimes demonstrates arrogant behavior in how she disrespects her partner’s boundaries and openly insults people who are unlike her or think differently from her. In my opinion, she also works within the emotional plane through her marketing strategies to get people to take her courses, buy her tools and practice her methods. Her philosophy in becoming “well-f*cked” feels very confusing, with some conflicting teachings, which you could argue is a reflection of the sorceress’ inclination for chaos. In my previous blog, I explained how this is further demonstrated in her marketing tactics, especially during 2020 when people felt lonelier and desperate for contact during lockdown. In her podcasts, Kim states that the point of her courses isn’t necessarily to use sexual energy to get whatever you want. However, this statement feels very contradictory when you observe how she teaches and how she speaks of her relationships with her partners.

In a different way than the sorcerer archetype, Galatea observes that the sorceress is almost the scarier of the two. Galatea explains that “the truest kind of freedom is freedom over your heart and mind. No one can truly own you if you at least have that, if you’re at least free in your own heart, mind, body and soul. The sorceress wants to take that freedom away. If you aren’t sovereign over yourself, then you don’t have freedom at all, because the sorceress is a jealous mistress, and you can be damn sure she will not allow any room in your heart or mind for anyone but her.”

To conclude, I want to share some quotes from the book “The 21 Lessons of Merlyn” by Douglas Monroe. Since the system of Celtic magic seems to be what I’m naturally inclined to, this is one of first the books Lee Yun recommended for my studies as a witch. Even though the teachings in the book sound outdated for our time, some passages intrigued me in regards to how the Druidic community viewed sex. Specifically, Monroe explains, through his characters, how using sex for gaining power isn’t admired at all among the druids. He states that “the world is full of those who pretend to use sexual union as an instrument of spiritual gain under the guises of ‘soul-love, true fulfillment, destiny’, and many other romanticized notions. But such could never be the case outside of their own minds, as this purely animal behavior belongs to another world altogether, a world that minds such as these cannot pretend to change by wishing it were so.” He goes on to add that “against truth, these people will continue to say that lust elevates them into the world of Magic along with their pleasure; that sex generates a force which may be turned to loftier things. They will continue to confuse the spiritual with the physical, for the sake of convenience.”

By encouraging us to become addicted to orgasmic sex, it seems very likely that the kind of freedom and “healing” Kim Anami offers comes with a serious price. Do I think she herself is a sorceress? I don’t know. She may be one, but I don’t know. Because they work in the subconscious and in the unseen realms, sorceresses can be much more difficult to spot than their male counterparts. However, in my opinion, if she won’t step in to control the collective through addictions—even holistic, orgasmic sex addictions—then someone will. So I encourage you to not give up that inner freedom so easily, because that’s where our real power lies.

#theauthenticobserver #holisticsex #addictions #holistic sex #archetypes #21 lessons of merlyn #douglas monroe

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amandaklwrites · 3 years

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TV Series Review: The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

Genre: Horror/Psychological Thriller

Rating: 10/10

TV Show Review:

Is it possible for me to give a million stars to something? No? Okay, I guess I will anyway.

Let me start this review by saying that I am in no way a horror movie person. The “worst thing” I have ever seen was CRIMSON PEAK, and even that I didn’t finish because the ending was too gory for me (I do know what happened, though). When I was a kid, Disney’s HAUNTED MANSION movie scared the living hell out of me, and now, it’s one of my favorites. So, for me to say that THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE was one of the best things I have ever watched says A. LOT.

I don’t even read horror books. I have found a few that I love—I’m looking at you Cat Winters and Simone St. James—and I’ve noticed, for me, it’s a certain type of horror. I have no care for the movies that are all about the jump scares or gory bullshit or serial killers chasing people around. To me, those stories have no substance (sorry to those fans, but that’s my personal opinion from what I’ve heard). I like the eerie, the idea that something is peering over your shoulder, and the play with darkness. I also like when stories are extremely character driven. A plot can be pretty terrible, but if I love the characters, then I don’t care if it lacks.

Which leads me into why I love this series. I love the characters, I love the vibe, I love the layers of interpretations.

For me, the characters are the best. I love the kids (Steven, Shirley, Theo, Luke and Nell), and the parents (Hugh and Olivia), and everyone else, but especially the family. I feel that they were all created so uniquely, with their own personalities and flaws and they all felt real. Like I was watching something real instead of scripted. Even how they respond to these events in their life are different (I have learned that Mike Flanagan specifically did it so each sibling represented a different stage of grief, which is SO BRILLIANT). And the strong relationship between them all, and their family unit with Hugh and Olivia as a strong couple of parents.

I loved how the story was told. That everything was unfolding with each episode, that pieces were pulled together with each siblings’ POV, and as everything started to ramp up. I like storytelling like this personally, as I don’t think it has to be told in a linear line. Sometimes, that’s not how telling your past works. So I think it reflects that idea well.

The haunting and ghosts were amazing. I loved the different kinds there were, and ones that seemed so new and original. I will say my personal favorite was the bowler hat guy, because not only is he rad, but he makes me think. Why is he so huge, why is he floating, and if he can float, why is his cane touching the ground? He doesn’t make sense, he’s a mix-match of so many things, and that’s what I love the most. That he isn’t like other ghosts I’ve heard about.

For me, I love how Mike Flanagan made the story about both ghosts and the psychological aspects of humanity. Without spoiling too much in this section, I think he made it a balance. Which is what I believe in. That there can be ghosts in this world, trapped in a house, but there is so much psychology behind it. That a house can be alive with the past and its own ghosts, but how you respond to it is up to you.

From here, I’m going to talk about some spoilery thoughts I have. So, if you haven’t seen the show and don’t want to be spoiled, please don’t continue. But if you have, or you don’t care about being spoiled, please do click on the “keep reading!”

Okay, so more on what I was trying to say with the whole ghost and psychology thing. For me, I’ve always believed that ghosts are real (I’ve lost count of how many experiences I have had, and I see ghosts all the time, and they seem to love following me around), so the idea of all these ghosts living in a house doesn’t seem unreal to me. I’ve been in places that feel like absolute rotting hell and I have to get out of there. I do believe that ghosts have a lingering bad energy and can seem evil. But to me, I don’t think ghosts possess or attack people (like, to kill them). I think at that point, there’s a psychology to it. Have you ever watched a horror movie and can’t sleep because you’re convinced there’s a ghost staring at your back? That’s how I think of it with a creepy house full of ghosts, you can be convinced that something will drive you mad. Which, for me, Flanagan created a good balance of both for this show, at least in my opinion. Because, we see all these ghosts, and after only a couple of instances, none of them attack anyone. They don’t hurt anybody. They’re just there. To them, the Crain family are the ghosts and what the devil are they doing there??

Which brings me around to Olivia. We all knew she would be brought up sometime, and her demise and descent into madness. I knew there was something with her from the very beginning (unfortunately), but I didn’t realize that she attempted to kill her two youngest kids, and actually did kill a little girl. I never even guessed it. But I knew she was losing her mind as more and more time went along. But I can see it. I mean, it does make some sense to a degree. Who isn’t scared that the world will tear apart their children, especially ones like Luke and Nell who are clearly caring and empaths? I’m an empath and I care so much sometimes that I feel like I get disappointed and hurt all the time. And I have heard my own mom talk about her concerns of me growing up that I will fall apart (and actually, I did at one point). So I 100% understand Olivia’s mindset. But I have the thought process that I don’t think the ghost of Poppy Hill controlled and manipulated her into killing her children. I personally feel like Olivia had mental illness stuff long before the house (I mean, the weird headaches??), and Poppy was a projection of those feelings and thoughts she was already having. I mean, we hadn’t even seen Poppy until Olivia was really thinking like that. I’m not saying that the ghost had no part in it, not at all. I think if you are unstable in the first place, and then you go to a place that seems to have this bad, lingering energy, your mind can spin out of control. I briefly mentioned that I have been in places that feel so haunted. I was deep inside a ship with my grandparents at one point, and I stood in one spot and I literally felt someone shove me back and then I couldn’t breathe. For like five seconds, I felt like I was losing my mind. I felt like I was dying and I wanted it to stop. (Turns out, someone had been crushed to death right where that had happened, which I found out afterward). So, I know what I’m talking about. In my opinion, that was Olivia’s case, since that was what had happened to me. I’ve also fell into such deep depression that my thoughts were erratic. So, somewhere along her time in this house, with her mind already in tatters, and listening to a maniac ghost who had been in an asylum, she lost it, she cracked. And that makes her so fascinating, doesn’t it?

I loved the kids. I loved all of them. But I do have to say, my personal favorite was Luke. He was so quiet and sincere, and he grew up and became a junkie. He was haunted by what happened in that house—and somehow, I think, he knew what his mother was trying to do to him and Nell. I know they were little and didn’t fully understand, but I think as you get older, you have to look back and think about it. This little girl with you had died after drinking tea. He may not totally realize it, but I think deep in his subconscious, he knew what happened. And how does someone live with that? Not only is he traumatized because of ghosts and his mother killing herself, but that haunting feeling? To me, that’s why his mother shows up as a ghost to him. Because he knows. But why I also connect with him is because I feel like we share similar personalities. Now, I never got into drugs, but there was a reason for that. It took me my whole life to avoid drugs constantly. Because, especially when my depression was bad in high school, I knew, knew, knew that if I had started playing with drugs, I would become an addict. I just knew it deep down inside of myself, so I stayed away from them. I consciously made a choice to not let that happen to myself. So, I think when I look at Luke, I see a version of myself that could have been. And I also understand it, even if I hadn’t done the drugs myself, if that makes sense? He cared so much that it broke him and that made me cry so much because I get it. I get it.

I’m a literature major, and in my classes, we learned that houses in stories, especially haunted ones, are huge metaphors. They represent the psyche. That’s why we find haunting houses so interesting in stories. So, to me, this house is both a physical entity that can be seen as evil, but it’s also more than that. Like Olivia had said, a house is like a body. It has its own energy, it collects memories, it sees more than any of us have ever had. So I like the idea of a haunted house collecting all these ghosts, and they’re living amongst them. Because isn’t that what hauntings are? Lingering memories, the past clawing after you? And a house perfectly represents that—how many memories, how many people and pasts has it collected over the years? I don’t see the house itself as evil, but all that has happened inside of it. I know the house and ghosts played a huge part of what happened, but we have to give Olivia some responsibility of what happened—she killed a girl and attempted to murder her own kids. I know she was mentally ill, but we can’t blame the ghosts and house itself. I mean, the kids are grown up and living away from the house, and they’re still haunted. So, it’s not only the house. It’s us. It’s humans with our grief and guilt and horror, and we’re remembering it all. But this house is important to them, because it’s where the ghosts reside, it’s where their mom—and then Nell—killed themselves. That’s their ghost.

I think where Flanagan wins is his complex characters, his complex themes and ideas. And that he creates an idea that has so many layers that anyone can interpret things differently. Like for me, I wonder how much the house and ghosts influence the characters and their actions, and vice versa. I think they’re meeting in the middle. And is Olivia evil or good as a ghost? To me, it seems still a bit deranged, because she wants her son to die and be with them. You would think that she would have let go of all that once she had died. But she’s free to choose, and that could be monstrous. But maybe she’s still living in her own hell because of the lingering ghosts and pasts in the house. Maybe you can never quite shake off your past, it’s always there, hanging out in the background.

It’s a complicated show, and that’s what I love about it. I watched it almost a week ago, and I’m still thinking about it. I’m still talking about it to my mom (who has only seen bits) and talking about the different layers and thoughts I have. I loved the sixth episode and how it was filmed in only five shots (who the hell does that???). I think this show is a work of genius, and Mike Flanagan needs all that credit.

This show is such an experience that I loved every single second of it. I want to watch it over and over to catch every little detail, to see if I experience something differently.

It makes me look a little longer at the ghosts that I see pass by me at work all the time now.

#the haunting of hill house #the haunting series #tv series review

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sidespromptblog · 5 years

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Fun

Summary: ‘Have you ever thought about dying?’ The words flowed in one ear and out the other, ‘Going to sleep and never waking up?’ The words felt warm, warmer than the current coldness of his bedroom, warmer than the chill that seemed to sink into his very core chilling him to the bone

Warnings: Suicidal thoughts, Suicide attempt, failed suicide attempt, depression, and a depressive episode. Remus is a little weird and very sexual.

Logan’s fingers drummed incessantly on the tabletop of his desk as he looked over to Remus, who was currently in the process of ripping the soles off of his boots and trying to gnaw on them like a savage dog. He wasn’t even sure as to how the creative side had even gotten into his room, he had just woken up at his desk to the sound of the duke doing whatever he was doing. He would have told him to leave, to get out and never come back in here, but… he didn’t. He was so tired. He couldn’t help but to stare, that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he’d had ever since waking up was ever-widening as his mind sank. He couldn’t help it, at this point it was almost the norm for him as all of the other noises outside of his bedroom becoming nothing more than a faint rumbling hum of static. He felt almost boneless, that feeling of being detached from his body, like a puppet cut loose from just a few of his strings. Even the sensation of his fingertips drumming against the wood of his desk, became nothing more than a muted sensation across his skin. Logically he knew that both of these things weren’t very good, and both of them were indicative of a worsening depressive spiral that he needed to get situated or else.

Or else…

‘Have you ever thought about dying?’ The words flowed in one ear and out the other, ‘Going to sleep and never waking up?’ The words felt warm, warmer than the current coldness of his bedroom, warmer than the chill that seemed to sink into his very core chilling him to the bone.

What if… what if he-

“What are you doing dork?” Remus’ slobbery sole slapped against Logan’s knees, as the creative side scuttled over to him like some demented bug human hybrid. “If you take a picture it’ll last longer, and if you take a picture make sure it’s of me naked. That is my strong suit.” Remus grinned like a shark with a piece of tattered leather hanging from the side of his mouth, “So which pose should I strike? Bent over? Spread-out? Or maybe balls d-”

“Remus,” Logan quickly cut off, forcing those horribly lewd images from his head, “How would you like to have a little fun?”

The clueless stare of the creative side soon morphed into a savage smile that showed off way too many teeth.

“Fun?” Remus grinned, the light of Logan’s desk lamp eerily illuminating his eyes in a hellish shade of green that would have made even the worst demons of mankind run screaming for the hills. Luckily Logan wasn’t one of those demons, and he knew exactly how to handle this. “What kind of fun are we talking about here?” Remus clasped Logan’s knees tightly leaning up so that their noses were brushing against one another, his mustache tickled Logan’s upper lip.

It was working, thank god. “I need you to distract the Patton and the others for me. Deceit included, do you think that you can do that?” The unspoken challenge rang with an air of confrontation, it was the kind of thing that someone like Logan or Deceit would have seen coming a mile away for what it was, a dare that could only end badly for just about everyone but Logan. Luckily for him, this was Remus they were talking about, and the mere prospect of a challenge was something that he knew the creative side wouldn’t be able to deny, after all, Roman was just the same albeit a little bit quicker to action. Whether Remus liked it or not, he and Roman were very much the same.

Remus’ pupils blew wide open, the black eclipsing the stormy grey of his eyes. “All of them?” He asked, his muscles clenching and unclenching with the strength that it took him to remain in place and not go running off right away to cause chaos. “I can do whatever I want to distract them? Anything?” The creative side eagerly licked his lips, his gaze darting all over the logical side’s face as if searching for a lie that would get him into trouble, or worse… he saw nothing, nothing but an open honesty that Logan had always been known for having. He was… telling the truth, Remus could have his fun. He could have his fun with the others and.. and...

Logan’s hand clasped the back of Remus’ neck, making the creative side wiggle excitedly against the logical side’s legs. “Aside from killing them or physically and mentally hurting them, you may do whatever that rotten heart inside you chest desires.” Logan’s half-lidded eyes stared numbly back into Remus’ as his voice took on a cold edge that only made the creative side wiggle, even more, he may not have known what was going one, but he was eager to get things underway. “Anything.” Logan whispered, his cool minty breath washing over Remus’ face, “Deal?”

Remus honestly wasn’t sure if he had ever been so excited over something like this. Here, was a “light” side, offering him something that Deceit had only offered when he was at the end of his ropes, a side who knew full well what he was capable off when their dear logic wasn’t around. He could have cared less about the reasoning behind Logan asking this of him, he wanted to play and he wanted to have his fun regardless of who it was with.

Remus’ fingers slid through Logan’s silky soft hair that had been pushed back out of his eyes, gripping it tightly he smacked Logan’s lips against his. Their teeth rattled against each others, leaving Logan to let out a surprised gasp just seconds before Remus’ tongue swept across his lips, his teeth, and the tongue that tasted so spectacularly of sweetness and mint. “Deal.” He snarled against the logical side’s lips, before biting down precisely once and moving back to stand on his feet. It was an action that left behind a deep red mark, his mark for everyone and their mother to see. Logan had taken HIS deal, not Deceit’s, not Roman’s, and most certainly not the sour sack of a traitor Virgil’s. It made a strange flush of possessiveness rush through his bloodstream, possessiveness and… something warmer that he wasn’t quite so certain enough to put a name to yet. But it didn’t hide the fact that Logan had his deal, his mark.

HIS.

Logan was his now.

Just the thought of it sent pleasant shivers all the way down to his southern regions, he did so wish that he could stay behind and pepper Logan’s stupidly beautiful face with more marks under the collar of that stupid shirt and tie. But… a deal was a deal after all, and he was nothing if not honest. Honest to the very end no matter what. He didn’t need Logan to tell him why he was doing this, or why he even wanted it in the first place. It wouldn’t matter in the end, not to either of them.

“I’ll be sure to see you later darlin,” He smirked shamelessly, neither of them quite knowing what the other meant. But nevertheless, the lighting of Logan’s room casting a dark shadow on his face lighting his eyes up like exploded Christmas lights, and just like that he was gone. Gone to wreak havoc on the others, for as long as he could. Or until he figured out just why Logan wanted them distracted in the first place, then… well, then Logan was certain that Remus would be none too pleased with him.

That was if he figured it out before Logan could go through with it.

With a heavy sound of exhaustion, Logan sank down into his desk chair, slumping in a rather un-serious fashion for someone who wore a necktie. Resting his head in his hands, a deep miserable sigh left the logical side’s lips as he raked his fingers through his hair, touseling the mess that Remus had already made of it. He wanted nothing more than to curl up under his desk and to take a nap that would last a lifetime, not waking up for anyone that came to his door nor for anyone that happened to get inside of his room. Exhaustion clung to him, honey to a guilty bear’s paw after swatting down a bee’s nest. He was so… so…

“I’m so tired,” He whispered, it was almost pathetic how his voice broke with those three words, and how the tears welling up in his eyes didn’t seem to have a single cause behind it. He was just tired, his very soul ached and burned to finally get some rest, to finally be able to sleep and not have to wake up and face the same thing over and over again. He longed to be.. to be there, but not sentient. He didn’t want to have this stupid form anymore, he didn’t want to have to worry about showing up and having whatever he said disregarded. He didn’t want to BE, and that was the real kicker wasn’t it.

“We lost another one,” Patton muttered over breakfast, away from Virgil’s ears and away from Roman’s prying eyes. “Another one of the others went into the subconscious, we’ll have to start locking it up if any more of them decide to go back like that. Thomas needs as many sides present and speaking as he can get, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Are we sure that is wise?” Logan had questioned, leaning against the counter as he did. “What if they is an emergency? What if one of us should need to get into there in order to retrieve a side, or-”

Patton’s hand patted his shoulder kindly, that smile being the kind of smile that wouldn’t know many of the things that were to come. The smile that wouldn’t know of the things that Logan would do or try years in the future. It was a smile that had known nothing about how bad things would get for the logical side or the places he would go in order to do what needed to be done. It was a smile of pure innocence, and back then, Logan hadn’t understood the pang of guilt he’d felt so squarely in his chest. A pang of guilt that rang all throughout him, and left him wondering why he had even felt it in the first place.

“Don’t worry!” Patton chirped, “We’ve both got a key to-”

Logan’s hand searched the underside of his desk, ripping the key free from where he had taped it there all those years ago. It was a dull silver, with just the tiniest hint of rust on the very end of it, he could feel it, if he rubbed his fingers against it. Both the rust and the sharp teeth at the end that was only meant for one thing and one thing only. To unlock the subconscious, a place, that to this very day… no side had ever come back from once they had been reabsorbed into Thomas’ consciousness. It was a place that Logan too didn’t plan on coming back from either, not if he could help it. He’d be damned if he came back from there alive, the only way he would… was kicking and screaming the entire way. He was enough of an adult to admit to that, whoever found him, he wouldn’t make it easy on them no matter how well he knew them.

Downstairs, a scream alerted Logan to the fact that Remus had just started his assault, that and the terrifyingly loud laughter that rang from the creative side’s mouth as loud crash soon followed. A part of Logan felt guilty for leading Remus into the deal that he did, because… had the deal been for literally anything else, he would have looked forward to Remus coming back and.. and the things that would follow afterwards. Because despite what the others thought… he didn’t hate Remus, how could he when the wild side was the only person to make him feel that spark of warmth that he hadn’t felt in such a long time?

Nevertheless, he stood up. Leaving his written letters on his desk for the others to find before his room would vanish for good. There wasn’t much that he could have written that would explain anything, that could give the others the apologies that they would want, but… he had tried to fit everything in without it seeming too dull and boring for them to read.

Giving his room one last look Logan said his silent goodbyes as he closed the door behind him.

As slowly as he took it though, as much as he tried to drag it out he was in front of the locked-up door before he even knew it. The chains were thick as they laid over the darkly stained wooden door, chains that had kept out an entire generation of dark sides from biting the dust when they felt too ignored for their own good, chains that.. that had condemned them to fade instead of peacefully going when they had felt like it. Before him, was something that Logan had helped lock up, for no other reason than because Patton had told him to do so. He had listened though, he had listened for almost fifteen years, until today.

The key felt heavy in his hand, like it weighed an entire ton rather than what it actually did.

He was so tired of holding it.

Of holding on in general.

He was tired.

Tired. Tired. Tired.

That would soon be over soon, as he fiddled with the latch slipping the key neatly into place without a sound. The gears in the lock itself groaned, like it was an ancient thing coming to life once again, or maybe it was like a dying thing exhaling one last breath before finally dying. Was he really going to do this? To give up? On Thomas, on Patton and the others, on… himself? For a moment he hesitated, the key remaining inside the lock, ready to open the door and let whoever wanted to walk into it. Be that Logan or.. or someone else entirely who wanted to go back to being the way that they were before. No. Logan roughly shook his head, he’d lock the door behind him so that Patton still had the only means to enter if he wanted to, it would be better this way. So that nobody could follow him, nobody could stop him, so that nobody could make him think twice about what on earth he was doing standing here let alone dying here.

It would be best if nobody could stop h-

“You could have told me I’d be coming back to an empty room, at least make it a little easier.” Pain slammed into Logan’s side, or rather Remus’ morning star did, with the sharp spikes digging into his ribs and in turn slamming him into the wall forcing him away from the door. Remus… He looked furious, furious in a way that Logan had never seen. “What on earth were you thinking?!” He snarled, his lips curled back as he bared his teeth at the stunned logical side. “You’re just going to leave?! To vanish like you never existed in the first place? How could you do that? To them, to Thomas, TO ME!” He roared, and it was only now that Logan’s mind pieced together the messy stains dripping down Remus’ cheeks, his makeup a complete mess. “Why?” Remus didn’t bother to look ashamed as he sobbed the word out, his morning star falling by their feet as he gripped Logan’s shirt tight thumping him firmly against the wall. “Why?!”

His face was no more than an inch away from Logan’s, but the door was a good foot away from the both of them. So close, and yet… he didn’t want to leave like this. Leave without giving some semblance of answers to the side who was openly weeping in front of him.

“I’m tired,” He honestly said, seeing no reason to lie, not now. However, with just those few words, it was like a dam had been destroyed inside of Logan. Because for the first time… he was being honest with how he felt about himself. “I’m so tired Remus, and I don’t even know why. I wish I did, at least then something would make sense and I could try to fix it, to fix me, but… I’m just so tired, some days I don’t even feel like me. I feel like a walking simulation that nobody can tell from the real thing.” He wasn’t crying, he wasn’t. “I know what else to do!” Logan’s fist thumped against Remus’ chest, as if that would force him back, as if that would ensure that he could make a running start for the door.

He didn’t want to run though, it was like speaking those words, or rather shouting them, had sucked all the energy right out of his limbs. So the only thing he could do was sink down to his knees as soon as Remus stepped back. The thoughts in his mind buzzed like busy bees, at least until he felt Remus settling in next to him, his warm hand forcing the logical side’s head onto his shoulder.

There was a quiet moment between them, a nice moment.

“I don’t know much about fixing things,” The creative side mumbled into Logan’s hair, “I’m usually the one breaking things beyond repair, so I don’t know what to say or really what to do. I’m usually chaos incarnate, throwing people off their game. But what you did…” Remus thickly swallowed, he didn’t want to admit it, but as soon as he had sensed the door opening with all of the others in his sight, he had felt duped, he hadn’t known what to do for once in his life. He felt… lost, and even more so when he had arrived back to Logan’s room to see nothing. At that moment, he was sure that he had gone through the stages of grief backwards. “I don’t know how to help,” He whispered, laying his arm over Logan’s back, “But let me help?”

“.... okay.”

The silence stretched between them a moment longer, as Remus ran his fingers through Logan’s hair, playing with the ends of them until both his and the logical side’s sniffling finally settled down. Remus could almost guarantee that his face was a mess of bleeding eyeshadow and mascara, but that hardly mattered now, and he had always shown his face wearing much much worse than some dodgy makeup skills. He wasn’t the best at this kind of thing, Virgil had almost never come to him for his panic attacks and Dee had never visited him when he spiraled. But… he could always try, deal or no deal, this was more important than finishing it.

Starting with that damned key.

“Come on,” He nudged the other side so that he was sitting up, “You’re going to come with me,” He carried on even as Logan quirked an eyebrow at him, his mind most likely venturing back to their open deal. “One time I had the urge to stab my fingertips with needles until my fingernails fell off, and I almost did it. Until Dee vanished every single needle in our place, as well as your place. He eliminated my options of hurting myself, so we’re going to destroy that key together, okay?” Dusting himself off, Remus stood up locking the door to the subconscious before slipping the key into his pocket. Holding his hand out to Logan, he let the jagged smile carve its way onto his lips. “Ready?”

Glancing between his hand and the duke, Logan paused for a second. He didn’t feel ready, in fact… he still wanted to do it, he still wanted to take the jump of the subconscious, he still.. he still wanted to let himself fade into Thomas’ mind to stop existing. Would he ever really feel better? Would he ever stop feeling the way that he did?

He doubted it… after all, Thomas still had his anxiety even after coming to terms with it.

But… he could still eliminate his options just as Remus had said. He could still make it harder for him to take that jump, to end everything once and for all. He could still make it as hard as he possibly could.

“Yeah,” The logical side finally said, slipping his hand into Remus, making their way back to his kingdom.

Maybe not to a perfect happy ending, it was illogical, but… to one where he would survive each and every day until he didn’t need to.

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