#forced to experience The Horrors and Save The World Or Destroy It

[inhonoredglory]

the horrors...

ficlet/art in the spirit of jayce angst week. (under the cut, cw: suicidal thoughts) *holds my little traumatized optimist gently*

The thoughts, when they come, arrive vivid and terrifying.

They blended into something physical when he dreamed at night—if it was night. (In the darkness, he could not work out the hours.) There was no time in this place, just the beaten cycle of his body clinging to a mangled rhythm, forcing him awake when he wished he could sleep, and making him dream when he feared the visions that came when he closed his eyes. He was dying, he knew that. He felt it in his body, hollowing out under his ribcage. He felt it in his mind, which stopped caring about the filth he slept in. In his soul, which stripped him naked to the truths about himself.

The fire came alive on nights like this. Became the only living thing left to judge him. Mel burned with the light of the sun, beautiful and alluring and filling him with glittering lies. The Professor’s quiet voice, heavy with the weight of centuries, pressing down, down, down, into his lungs until the guilt choked in his throat. Ambessa’s dark eyes, the lick of her breath against his neck, telling him to go on, take it, destroy the world. And Viktor…. oh god, Viktor.

It should have been his body split on the concrete, his blood and his bones on the floor of the council room. Viktor was never supposed to be there. Trying to buy freedom for his people, when it had always been Piltover who’d failed them. Viktor, who paid the price of a freedom they could not even purchase in the end. Viktor, who told him, I was supposed to die , as if saving his life was wrong, as if his existence was a sin to be blotted out by a world that never loved him. Why did Viktor leave him for that, for loving him?

Maybe it would have been better if Viktor hadn’t found him in his apartment that night. If he’d never met him at all.

The thought caught in his throat, tight against tears that had long since dried up.

He wondered why he didn’t just end it all right now, take the sharp edge of obsidian over his wrist and watch the dim slit of sky fade into black. He was so young back then, fearless and righteous that when he went, the world would know what they’d done to him. But now he was afraid. Afraid with the fear of tasting true death, of feeling it frail and emaciated in his arms, of watching it wheeze rhythmically through metal tubes, of hearing it say, as if he’d always known, How much time do I have?

The death of breaking off a piece of your heart and watching it shrivel and wither into nothingness, taking your soul down with it and leaving your body behind…. That was the death he feared above all else.

He could not lose Viktor, he would not lose Viktor. And despite everything, he’d do it again—let Viktor look into his eyes again with that vicious glare, telling him he shouldn’t have brought him back.

I’m so sorry.

(A/N: originally published on AO3, not complete, later chapters will be much darker, so please be warned. his experience in the ravine is so important to me & I enjoyed exploring that & projecting (as you do)

[yudol-skorbi]

these sure are....a hell of a bells......

[artemisia-musings]

A Broken Man Can Love Again

Minors DNI! 18+ only

Summary: Leon is tasked with training a new agent. He vows to protect her, but doesn't expect to fall for her.

Tags/Warnings: Fem reader, no use of Y/N, suicidal thoughts, violence, protective Leon, smut, trauma dumping lol.

Note: I've been super depressed lately so this fic has been kinda therapeutic to write. Protective Leon makes my heart flutter. Also this is my first time writing smut! Hope you like it <3

Leon Scott Kennedy worked best alone. It was easier that way, safer. He found it was often easier to work if he didn’t have some soft-hearted inexperienced rookie trailing along after him. He couldn’t stand to get attached to them, only for them to perish. He had seen far too many good men and women die at the hands of evil. The weight of every death hung heavy on him, a reminder of his failures to do what he had long ago promised to do. Save everyone. If he can’t even save his goddamn team, how is he expected to save the world?

Seven years since Racoon City, seven years since his autonomy was stripped away. He supposed it was for the best, although Leon couldn’t help but feel jealous of those who had to choose what to do with their lives. Claire was never given the choice between death or service, no, she got to run off and play humanitarian. He gritted his teeth, knowing he was being unfair. Of course, if Claire had known leaving him and Sherry would have resulted in them being kidnapped she would have helped. He tried not to hold it against her. He tried to remind himself that at the very least, he was still helping the world, saving it from those who would seek to destroy it. But as he walked down the halls of whatever government agency he was aiding that day, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hatred for those who had been given a choice to be there.

Most people he came into contact with at work didn’t even believe in B.O.W’s. And why should they? The government wiped the slate clean every time, burying the events so that the world wouldn’t panic. Very few government agents knew the horrors of the bio-weapons, and even fewer were properly trained on how to deal with them. The survival rate for agents like himself was low, to say the least. Hell, Leon felt like he had seen most of them die himself. Ripped apart, crushed like a bug, necks bitten and torn. He had become so desensitized to gore and violence over the years that it hardly even phased him anymore. Leon worked best alone, so his annoyance when it was announced he would be training a new rookie was astronomical. 

“Hunnigan, you have to be joking right? I’m the last guy they want training someone,” he argued, pacing the office of perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend in the government. 

Ingrid Hunnigan, ever the level-headed individual, merely shrugged. “They thought your experience with B.O.Ws, along with the recent success of your Spain mission, made you the best candidate to train her.” Hannigan paused from clacking at her keyboard. 

“If things go well, they will most likely make her your new partner.” She said it so casually as if this wasn’t a tremendous update. 

Their relationship was one built off of duty. Ever since his mission in Spain last year, he had taken a liking to the no-nonsense woman. She let him complain and whine about his job; about his loneliness. And while she couldn’t do anything to help him, she was able to provide him with a small amount of validation and comfort. The field support agent was perhaps the only person aside from his higher-ups who knew of his forced involvement in the agencies. 

“If she lasts that long,” Leon grumbled under his breath. Hannigan cast him a sour look but Leon shrugged it off, knowing he didn’t get a say in the situation- he never did. Choice wasn’t something in his job description, if he had a choice he wouldn’t be here at all. Or would he? For the past seven years, he had been trained to be an agent, trained to be the perfect weapon against eldritch abominations created by capitalistic psychopaths, and before that he had spent years at the police academy, training to serve. All his adult life he had been taught to serve and obey, and he was pretty damn good at it too. An obedient little soldier, ready to die for his masters. If Leon had a choice would he still be here? He couldn’t fathom the possibility of a normal life anymore, not with the knowledge that the world was so corrupted and ugly, ready to implode at any moment. Leon never had the option to choose this career, why anyone would be beyond him? 

Mumbling a goodbye, he left his friend before returning to his own office. He slumped down in the chair, booting up his computer. Might as well figure out who his partner is anyway. Leon knew it was a bad idea to get attached, but curiosity killed the cat. Pulling up her file, he was surprised to see how young she was, not even past her early twenties yet.  Most recruits tended to be older, and more experienced in military combat and whatnot. An unease washed over him as he read her file closely, a pang of anger sparking in his chest. The girl was in a similar boat as him. Wrong place, wrong time. Welcome to the club, kid. She had been present during an isolated virus outbreak at a University football game and had the unfortunate accolade of being one of the few survivors. Anyone with the capability to stand up to an infected tended to capture the attention of the government. Leon gritted his teeth, trying to calm the rage that brewed inside him. Had they blackmailed her into agreeing to join? Threatening her family, her own life, if she didn’t comply? He hadn’t even met her yet and he was already miserating over her. 

Leon looked closer at her photo, taking in the saddened but hopeful spark in her eyes. Was she trying to see the bright side of the situation? Did she think she would get to be a hero? Leon let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair as he tried not to dwell on the potential of losing another person, another partner, another friend; the heart can only handle so much. “I’ll try and keep you safe” he murmured to himself, glancing back up at the photo on his screen. This time it would be different. It had to be.

_______

It was a sunny day when he met his new partner. Leon stood in the training room, rays of light beaming through the windows as a suit-clad man escorted the young woman in, no doubt her handler. Leon sucked in a breath, remaining stoic as they approached, trying to calm his racing nerves. Despite what he might tell others, Leon wasn’t exactly well-versed in talking to women. He used to consider himself a smooth talker in college, but ever since he left the academy, his exposure to flirting opportunities had been limited, to say the least. The closest he had gotten to flirting was with Ada last year in Spain. Can it be called flirting when you have a knife to their throat? However, one night in seven years was still a losing streak in his eyes. 

The nameless suit briefly introduced the woman, whom upon hearing her name called, hesitantly reached out her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Agent Kennedy,” she greeted awkwardly. 

Leon huffed a chuckle, an eyebrow quivering in amusement as he slowly reached for her hand. “Please, just call me Leon,” he insisted, shaking her hand. It was soft, not yet hardened by callouses, and her grip was weak. Hands that had not seen battle. They shouldn’t see battle at all. She shouldn’t be here to begin with.

As the agent departed, Leon took in the sight of his new trainee. He had been told she had been put through basic military training, but it would be up to him to prepare her for the unpredictability of bio-weapons. Without hesitation, he unsheathed his knife, slashing it toward her and she yelped in surprise, arching backward to avoid the blade.

“What the hell?!” she protested, dodging yet another attack from him. Her movements were clumsy, but fast- he could work with that.

“You think a bio-weapon is gonna give you a heads up when it’s about to kill you?” He retorted, his knife nicking her cheek. “You think a corpse is gonna ask permission to bite you? That a mutated beast is gonna wait for your turn?” The girl grits her teeth, dodging and weaving his slashes. “You have to be ready for anything because these things will not hesitate to kill you.” His blade came into contact with her arm as he knocked her down and she fell with a grunt, glaring up at him. Leon bit back his tongue, ignoring the way her frustrated look pained him. It was for her good, he couldn’t let her training be easy, not if she expected to live through the next few years. As much as Krauser was a psychotic sadist, Leon couldn’t help but admit that his brutal training methods had been useful. He reached out his hand, the young woman hesitating before taking it. 

“ That’s one hell of a hello,” she grumbled, and a smirk formed on Leon’s mouth. He pulled her up to her feet, giving her a pat on the shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” he chuckled softly. “Now, let’s go get you bandaged up.”

____________

The seasons start to change and Leon starts to dread going to work less. Despite the colder nip in the air, he feels warm, and eager at the prospect of seeing his rookie. She has acclimated well to her new role, and while Leon wishes he could punch the son of a bitch who forced her to enlist, he can’t help but feel a spark of gratitude that she was here. 

The rookie isn’t overtly chatty, and Leon can tell she still doesn’t fully trust him. He can see it in her eyes, like a deer eyeing a wolf. She’s polite and respectful, dutifully calling him honorifics and obeying commands, but Leon isn’t fooled. 

There is snow in the air as he makes her run through an obstacle course. After all, not every mission she’s sent on is going to have pristine weather. She’s miserable, he can tell even from afar. She trudges through the snow, hauling herself over wooden walls, leaping over logs, and swinging from a rope. By the time she practically collapses over the finish line, her ears and nose are tinged red from the cold, and he can see her breath in the cold winter air. 

“You took too long,” he said plainly, checking his stopwatch. “You took nearly five minutes, you can’t pass unless you do it in under two.”

The girl is panting, trying to regain her breath. She glances at Leon, a look of annoyance plastered clear on her face. “Fuck off” she wheezes, and a bead of sweat rolls down her forehead. 

Leon can’t help but laugh at her crass words. He remembers how difficult it is, trudging through the snow or mud through the finish line. He’s lost count of how many times he’s done this over the years, how many times Krauser pushed him until he was at wit's end. Leon doesn’t want to be a cruel footnote in the history of her life. He doesn’t want her to look back on this chapter of her life with disdain as she remembers him. Leon isn’t sure of what he wants, or what he needs to give up to admit what he suspects deep down. He shakes his head, trying to push any conflicting feelings down deep inside him, burying this fleeting hesitation along with the rest of his hopes, dreams, and suppressed emotions. Leon isn’t here to get sentimental, he’s here to make sure this rookie doesn’t get murdered on her first mission. 

“One more time” he orders, looking away from her and back over to the snow-covered course. “After that, you can take a break,” Leon adds, almost hesitantly. He shouldn’t be soft with her, but as her face lights up at the prospect of being able to rest, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter with a palpitation of happiness. He watches as she takes off once more, a newfound sense of energy overtaking her as she maneuvers the course. Leon can’t help but feel mesmerized as he watches her in a trance-like state, a surge of pride washing over him as she sprints over the last obstacle, gasping for breath as she crosses the finish line. 

“One minute and forty-six seconds,” he said, stopping the timer as she smiled triumphantly. 

“Nice to know your reward motivated, perhaps from here on out I’ll carry a little bag of treats for you,” he snarks, a smile tugging on the corner of his lips as she rolls her eyes at him.

“Woof” she responds dryly, “Now I believe I was promised a break?”

Leon nods, smiling to himself as he leads her towards the concrete building. “Let’s go rookie, I’m pretty sure the dining hall made hot chocolate,” he says.

“Is it good?” she asks, trailing after him.

“Not at all,” he admits. She laughs, throwing her head back as she does so. Leon can’t help but stop in his tracks, admiring her beauty as the snow falls around them.

__________________

It’s a quiet night, far too quiet for Leon’s liking. It’s the kind of silence that puts him on edge, reminiscent of a calm before the storm. He knows deep down he’s safe in this military facility, that there is no monster lurking in the dark shadows of his room, but he can’t bring himself to fully believe it. He tosses and turns in a light slumber, waking up in a cold sweat, heart racing and mouth agape. Nights like these aren’t uncommon; he's used to waking up in a panic. Not even in sleep can he escape the ghosts of his past, the terror that has plagued him for years. The line between nightmare and reality doesn’t exist for him, and he dreads the prospect of sleeping again. He pushes himself out of bed, his body aching from the thin mattress as he throws on a random t-shirt. He ran out of his hidden liquor supply a few weeks ago, but perhaps the kitchen has something that could calm his nerves. Leon feels weak admitting that alcohol is one of the few things that allows him to temporarily forget his trauma. He’s a man on a mission as he slinks through the halls of the base, careful to be quiet. He’d hate to have to explain to a commanding officer why he was out at this time. Sorry about that General, I was just looking for some spare booze cause I had a nightmare! That’d go over well. The kitchen is unlocked and seemingly abandoned as he peeks his head in, making a beeline to the cupboards. Lady Luck is on his side as he finds a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Bingo. The sound of sniffling startles him, shooting his head up to see the rookie curled up by a window, moonlight pouring down over her as she meets his gaze.

“What are you doing here at this hour?” Leon asked, trying to keep a fragment of authority in his voice. It comes out cracking, his voice still husky from sleep and raw with emotions.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says, wiping at her eyes. “You?”

“Tried to sleep, didn’t go over well,” he mumbled, grabbing two glasses. “Care for a glass?” he asks, already pouring one for her. He knows the answer.

“Please” she mutters, rubbing her forehead. Leon knows this look all too well. He pours them both a hefty shot, placing a glass in front of her as he takes the opposing seat to her. The rookie grabs the glass, swirling its contents around as she drinks deeply. 

“I can tell you want to say something, might as well get it off your chest,” he offers, drinking from his cup. When he was in the academy Leon used to hate straight liquor. It burned his throat and made his eyes water, stinging on the way down. Now, Leon enjoyed the burn, it reminded him he could still feel. He didn’t even flinch any more as he drank it. 

“You wouldn’t understand,” the rookie sighs. Leon can see that her eyes are glassy and bloodshot, with heavy bags under her eyes.

“I might be the only one who does,” he countered.

The rookie doesn’t say anything at first, just looking at him with a haunted expression. “I had to shoot my friend,” she said, turning her gaze to the window. The moonlight shines down on her, casting her in an ethereal glow.  “One of those infected bit her, tore a chunk right out of her arm. She swore up and down that she was fine, but after a little bit she had to sit down,” she paused, pursing her lips as she got lost in the memory. “I was holding her hand when she died, was with her to the end. But then she came back, thought maybe I was going crazy, that maybe God was looking out for me. Then she looked at me with those pale dead eyes and lunged at me. Had to put a bullet in her head.” The girl tensed, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“You did the right thing,” Leon assured her. The rookie doesn’t look very convinced, just shaking her head.  “I had to shoot my boss,” he murmured in exchange. “First day on the force back in ‘98, I was wandering the halls of the Racoon City police department when I found him. Never even got a proper chance to meet him, everything had gone to shit by the time I had arrived,” he paused to chuckle dryly. “His name was Marvin, only knew him for a few hours, but he died saving me. I wouldn’t be here without him.” Leon paused, feeling a lump in his throat. He quickly took a sip of his whiskey, not wanting to cry in front of her. “He turned too and came back as one of those creatures. Had to shoot him, right in the head,” he sighed, feeling his eyes dampen with tears.

 “Sometimes I think about all the ways I could have helped him, how maybe if I had just done something differently he would still be alive. God, maybe if I had gotten there sooner I could have saved more people..” he trailed off, realizing he was rambling.

 He clears his throat as he notices she is staring at him, a pitiful look on his face. No, it wasn't pity. Leon was far too familiar with pity, he faces it damn near every day. He can hear their hushed whispers in the office as they huddle around the water cooler, casting glances at him as he passes by. His story is infamous in the agencies he visits. Leon isn’t some fabled hero or even a person. He’s a tragedy that people love to revisit. He can’t let the past die, not when it’s become so woven into his sense of self. The girl doesn’t regard him in pity, but rather a look of mutual sorrow and misery. She doesn’t try to dab at her tears as they begin to fall more freely. 

“It was my fault my friend died,” she said, her voice thick with choked-back sobs. “I was the one who had dragged her to that game, where they released the virus,” she sniffles. “It was chaos, the stampede to leave the arena must have been worse than the infected. All you could hear was screaming, an endless roar of it. All I could focus on was her hand, gripping it to make sure she didn’t get lost in the sea of people. We were both so hopped up on adrenaline we didn’t even notice she had gotten bit,” she had to pause to take a deep breath, and regain her composure. 

“Swat team had come, every police officer in the county too,” she shakes her head as if trying to get rid of the memory. “Not that it made much of a difference, pretty sure most of them perished in the end. I grabbed a gun off of a fallen cop, and the two of us managed to get away from the crowd.” Her face scrunches up as she recounts the night. “If I hadn’t made her go, she’d maybe still be alive.”

“It’s not your fault she died,” Leon said softly, hesitating before reaching his hand out to grasp hers. “We can’t ponder on the what-ifs, at least that’s what I read in one of those psychology magazines.” This makes her chuckle, her lips curling into a small smile as their eyes meet. It’s a strange way to bond, trauma dumping in the middle of the night, but it feels as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders, making it a little easier to breathe.  Moonlight drapes over them and Leon wishes he could freeze time. 

______

Gunshots cut through the silence as Leon observes the rookie shoot. Her brow is furrowed with determination, a scowl on her lips as attempts to shoot the targets in the head. Body shots at best might stun an infected, and probably won’t do jackshit against a larger mutated beast. Headshots guarantee damage to some extent at least. Her posture is perfect—confident, determined—but there's a flicker of something else in her eyes, something that catches his attention. Anger, maybe? Or frustration? The gunshot rings out again. Another headshot. The cluster of bullets digs deep into the skull of her target, her scowl morphing into a satisfied smirk at the small victory. 

“Not bad,” Leon said, a strange sense of pride welling in his chest.  “You know your way around a gun.” She pauses, lowering the weapon as she turns to look at him. Her expression shifts into something he can’t quite place.

“Thanks, the only thing my dad ever taught me,” she said, huffing a dry laugh. “Hated it at the moment, but I suppose I’m thankful now.” Her words are flippant although her body has tensed up.

“Didn’t get along so well I take it?” Leon questioned, cocking an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall. He can feel a familiar pang in his chest, the tug of commissary. 

“That would be an understatement,” she rolls her eyes, Leon watches her carefully as she clicks the safety on and places the pistol on the table, her fingers lingering on the cool metal for just a fraction of a second too long.

“He was better than some fathers... but looks like I got served a helping of daddy issues anyway. He died a few years back, sometimes I’m almost thankful he passed before..” she trails off, gesturing to the room. Her words hang in the air between them, far more intimate than she probably intended. Leon stays silent for a moment longer than usual, not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because he’s unsure if he should say anything. There's a softness in her voice he didn’t expect. He struggles to remember his father, his family was taken from him when he was little. Sometimes if he tries hard enough he can see flashes of his face and feel the warmth of his embrace. But that’s all they are. Flashes of his past.

“I get it. Doesn’t always go the way we want, does it?” Her gaze flickers over to him, catching his eyes for just a moment, and that’s when Leon feels the change in the air. The weight of the conversation lingers, and the quiet moments stretch longer between them than either of them is comfortable with.

“It never does,” she says at last, sighing as she combed her fingers through her hair. “What about you? You close with your old man?”

“Old man died along with the rest of my family when I was a kid,” Leon says with a shake of his head. He pauses, searching through the distant memories as he tries to recall what his father was like. “I don’t have any bad memories of him, but don’t have many good ones either. He’s more of a feeling that haunts me.” The rookie just looks at him with an unreadable expression, as if she’s scanning his face. 

“I guess we’re both haunted,” she says at last, breaking the silence between them. Leon can’t help but feel his lips tug into a smile. Vulnerability is not something that comes easily to him these days. It’s a weakness, something that can be used against him. Open yourself up too much and people are bound to steal bits and pieces from you. However, around the rookie, Leon can’t help but feel his walls weakening, baring his scars to her. He knows he should feel terrified to let anyone see the broken pieces of him, but all he can feel is relief that someone can see the real him.

_________

Leon can feel his heart in his throat as he sits down in Hunnigan’s office. It’s like a lump he can’t swallow, his esophagus tightening as if he’s about to choke. He knows why he was called here and it’s a moment he has been dreading since the rookie was assigned to him. He watches silently as his friend and colleague flips through the reports that he has provided on her, updates on her training and progress. The decision to send her into the field. To risk her life, to trust her on missions that could end in bloodshed or worse. He watches, almost disassociated, as Hunnigan flips through the reports on her progress.

“Everything looks good. Excellent, even,” she says, her voice smooth, confident. She adjusts her glasses, casting a rare smile in his direction. “You must feel proud.”

He just shrugs, unable to calm the nervousness swelling in his stomach.  “I’m ecstatic,” he grumbles gruffly. He knows he’s being rude, she’s congratulating him on doing his job. He trained her and turned her from a survivor to an agent deemed worthy of missions. But Leon hates the idea of her out there in the field, risking her life. Too many what-ifs float through his mind, the unpredictability of their line of work fueling doomsday scenarios in his head. 

Hunnigan doesn’t miss the bite in his tone. She glances up, her brow furrowing in mild concern, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she returns her focus to the papers in front of her, her fingers tapping lightly against the desk.

“I’m sure she’s ready,” he mutters under his breath, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to himself. Leon’s hands twitch, itching to grab something—anything—to release the frustration building inside him. He can feel his stomach twisting into knots, and the air feels too thick to breathe.

“Leon, you did everything you could,” she says, her tone more measured now. “You trained her. You gave her the tools. Now, it’s up to her.”

Leon huffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His jaw clenches. “Yeah? And what happens when it’s not enough? When the situation’s too much for her? You know how unpredictable this job is. I know how unpredictable this job is.”

He stands up abruptly, pacing in front of her desk, every step fueled by the tight knot of anger and fear in his gut. His voice rises, rough with emotion. “ I didn’t sign up to watch her get torn apart, to watch everyone I fucking care about die!” hd snaps. “I did it…to protect people, to save lives. How many lives have been lost because of me? Because of my failures?” His voice trails off, the anger morphing into bitter sorrow.  Finally, he grits his teeth and mutters, “I’m not letting her get killed out there.”

Hannigan smiles faintly, but it’s not one of triumph. More like understanding. “Then trust her, Leon. She’s ready. And she’ll prove it to you.”

He opens his mouth, ready to argue again, but something in her expression stops him. With a sharp exhale, he takes a seat again, tension still coiled in every muscle. It will be different this time. 

________

It’s a quiet night, one of those rare peaceful moments that Leon always savors.  Tonight was supposed to be a celebration, a recognition of the hard work and training that had earned her a spot among the rest of them. She had passed, she was ready for missions, ready for the chaos and carnage that came with this job. And yet, all Leon could think about was the heavy weight of what that meant: ready to die.  He takes another gulp of whiskey, the burn settling somewhere in his chest. He had taken her to a nearby bar, and it by no means was an elegant establishment. The decor was dated and dusty with the patrons even more so. Leon couldn’t help but find it charming, however.

She’s sitting across from him, smiling, talking about the future, trying to hide her quelling nerves. The dim lights of the bar cast shadows over her face, her body swaying slightly as she tapped her finger along to the beat of the old jazz music that permeated from the dusty jukebox in the corner. She sips at her beer, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes as she notices him staring at her. 

“Do I have something on my face?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious as her hand rises to dab at her lips. 

He shakes his head, his lips tugging into an easy smile. “Do you want to dance?” he asks suddenly, his voice low and steady, almost like he wasn’t giving himself the chance to second-guess it. Her eyes widened a fraction in surprise. He hadn’t been one to make impulsive moves, especially with her. Still, there’s something in the way she holds her gaze that makes his stomach flutter. A chuckle escapes her, and she leans back slightly in her chair, putting on a dramatic sigh. 

“Smooth,” she teases, but she doesn’t hesitate. She slides her palm into his, letting him pull her up with a small, amused shake of her head. “But I guess I’ll accept.”

“I’m hurt,” Leon says, gasping in mock offense as he pulls her gently toward the dance floor. 

“And here I thought we had something special!” He spins her around as he pulls her close to him, hands resting on her waist as they sway to the beat.  A soft laugh bubbles out of her, warm and light, before she looks up at him, the playfulness in her eyes softening for just a moment. 

“We do,” she says quietly, her voice taking on an almost shy edge. “I don’t think I’ve been able to properly thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

The words hit him like a sudden gust of wind. Leon pauses, his heart skipping a beat. “Don’t mention it,” he says with a smile. His hand tightens slightly around hers, but he doesn’t let go. “You’re a damn good agent. You’ve earned everything.”

She doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes are focused on his face now, as if in a trance. His breath catches in his chest, and for a moment, the music around them seems to fade into a dull hum. It’s just the two of them now, dancing slowly, the rhythm of their steps matching the thudding pulse in his own heart.

Her hands slide up his arms, fingers brushing the edges of his shoulders as she pulls him into an embrace,  He can feel the warmth of her body, the soft thumping of her heart against him. Leon’s own heart picks up speed, not used to such physical displays of genuine affection. 

The distance between them feels like it’s finally being bridged. Something unspoken lingers in the air, a fragile tension that neither of them can ignore anymore. His hands find her waist, and he pulls her just a little closer, feeling the slight hitch in her breath as she melts into him.

She stays quiet for a moment, her body moving gently with his, the music guiding their movements. 

“Leon,” she whispers, her voice low but sincere, “I don’t think I ever said it, but… I trust you. More than anyone.” A lump forms in his throat, and he closes his eyes for a second, steadying himself. He pulls back just a bit, enough to look into her eyes. 

“You don’t have to say it,” he says, his voice soft. “I know.” The space between them, once filled with the unspoken tension of their roles, seems to vanish. And in that moment, Leon realizes that it’s not just trust they share—it’s something deeper, something neither of them had been willing to acknowledge until now. Her hand rises to his chest, pressing against his heart as their faces draw nearer. The soft glow of the bar lights paints everything in shades of amber, casting them in a haze of fleeting warmth.

“Leon,” she murmurs again, her voice barely a breath against his lips. He doesn’t need her to finish the sentence. He can feel it in the way her body trembles just slightly as she leans in, her lips so close to his that he can almost taste the moment. Without thinking, he closes the distance between them, the kiss soft and gentle, all things Leon isn’t used to. It’s a slow realization, a gradual unfolding of something neither of them had anticipated—but something that feels right. The world outside this quiet moment fades away. All that’s left is the warmth that Leon has been seeking for so long.

_________________

Everything has gone to hell. It started decently enough, a typical case of a B.O.W that had been released into the public, stirring up terror. It all went wrong so fast. An explosion rattles through the air, and Leon can feel the heat from the flames, the force pushing him back, falling onto the pavement. The pain from the impact is forgotten as he hears her scream. His heart stops beating as he forces himself up, finding a new sense of adrenaline as he races to where the creature has her cornered. It's one hell of a genetic fuck-up, a big hulking beast with withered skin that looks like it’s been burnt. Elongated limbs drag on the ground as it skulks toward her, bony claws decorating the tips. Its gnashing teeth are aimed at ripping into her throat, the beast's mouth is already stained with blood. Leon can’t think straight, the only thing in his mind is her. He races as fast as his strained legs can carry him, a wild frantic look in his eyes as he raises his gun to aim. The creature has her in its grip, its mutated hand grabbing her by the throat, threatening to crush her windpipe as it dangles her above the pavement. 

“No!” Leon cries out, feeling as though his entire world might shatter. Her legs are twitching and kicking, eyes bulging out of her skull as she opens her mouth in a vain attempt to suck in even a breath of air. Leon aims and sends a cluster of bullets towards its skull. The beast roars in pain, flinging the girl against the pavement as it lumbers towards him. Leon grits his teeth as he sends more bullets flying toward it, and by some sheer luck, one manages to go right through its eye. He breathes out a sigh of relief as it finally stumbles forward, succumbing to the fatal blow. His victory is short-lived though, his eyes falling on the rookie. She still hasn’t moved, remaining limp on the cold cement. Leon kneels beside her, ignoring the pain from his own aching body as he gently cradles her in his arms. She is pliable and unmoving, like a ragdoll in his arms as he brings her to his chest. Her lips are tinged blue from lack of oxygen and her neck is inflamed from the strangulation, but Leon breathes out a sigh of relief as his fingers find her pulse, a steady thump emanating from her. As the chaos fades away, reinforcements finally arrive at the scene, Leon holds her in his arms, unwilling to let go. A medic approaches, trailed by a pair of agents. 

"Please," he bemoans, trying to quell the fear in his heart as the medic kneels down beside him, gently taking the girl from his arms. He watches intently, trying to ignore the growing tightness in his chest. She was hurt. He hadn't been enough to protect her and she had gotten hurt. He feels tears prick in the corners of his eyes and he has to remind himself that he is being watched and judged right now. Leon forces himself to remain stoic, however on the inside, he can't help but lament that he failed her. 

____________

The days following the mission were quiet. Leon had invited her to rest in his apartment, not trusting those bastards to give her the proper time to recover. It was strange having another person in his space, hell, he wasn’t used to having his own space. The apartment was a place he felt he hardly spent time in, being shipped around at the government's whim. It was nice to have something in his name though, and even nicer to have someone share it with him. The rookie made his sterile apartment feel more like a home than it ever had before. Leon fell into the role of caretaker quickly, letting her rest in his bed as he brought her tea for her throat and helped bandage her wounds. She would lament, saying she wasn’t dead yet and could care for herself, rolling her eyes playfully whenever he poked his head in to check on her. He couldn’t help himself though, part of him was still in shock that she was alive, that she had come out of that mission with her heart still beating. Leon knew his feelings weren’t strictly platonic, not after the kiss they had shared at the bar, not after the soul-sucking fear he had felt after cradling her limp body amidst the aftermath of the chaos. Feelings were a luxury he hadn’t let himself indulge in in years. This isn't lust, he knows that much. Lust is like a quelling fire that burns in his gut, one that’s hot and heavy and must be put out lest he be driven mad. No, how he feels is not a burning passion, but a steady flame, like laying by a crackling hearth and letting the warmth wash over him. As he looks into her eyes, he feels as if he is home. Leon isn’t sure if he has ever experienced love, but he imagines that this is what it feels like. 

One evening as they are sitting on the edge of his bed, only half paying attention to a movie he had rented, he turns to look at her, feeling his chest swell with that warm fuzzy emotion again. He doesn’t have to put up a facade of strength and bravery, a performance of a loyal government agent. With her, she sees him for what he is. A scared broken man. Leon can’t afford to be vulnerable very often, neither of them could, but perhaps for now they could both step out of their protective shells and be who they are.

“I love you,” he says suddenly, mesmerized by her. She turns to meet his gaze, eyes wide in surprise. She doesn’t say anything at first, the silence deafening as Leon starts to wonder if perhaps this was a mistake. 

“I love you too,” she finally admits, her hand reaching for his as he meets her halfway, tenderly holding hands as if they were a pair of schoolchildren in the playground. Leon can feel his heart swell, his mind growing fuzzy as he tries to wrap his head around this feeling. Relationships are impractical in this line of work, and he can’t be certain of his future, much less one he could have with her. To calm the flood of emotions that are coursing through him he does the only thing he knows that can calm him. He lurches forward like a man possessed, crashing his lips to hers as his hand comes up to clasp his face, her palm gently grasping his cheek as if he was a piece of treasure that might slip through her fingers less she is too rough. It’s an odd feeling, to be cherished Leon thinks to himself as he kisses her. He doesn’t think of himself as worthy enough to be cherished, to be loved at all. In his mind, he is unworthy, just a broken man who isn’t sure of what exactly he is doing, not used to making his own choices in life. But as the kiss grows more heated, Leon can only think of one thing he wants to do. To worship the woman he loves.

Leon falls to his knees before her. He doesn’t believe in God, not anymore at least. But as he looks up at her angelic face, he imagines this is what God’s love must feel like; warm and comforting, ever-present as he feels the adoration inside of him, seeping into his bone marrow. She spreads open her thighs and Leon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between them. His tongue is pressed flat against her core, licking a steady stripe up her slit. He can’t tell if it's her musky sweet scent that makes him feel as though he has been electrocuted or the way she parts her lips and moans, but the feeling shoots straight to his groin. 

“Don’t hold back angel, I want to hear you sing” he murmurs into her folds, pressing kisses to her clit as she arches her back as he wraps his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves. He buries his face into her core, her legs twitching as they wrap around his head, pulling him in closer. She’s whimpering and moaning as Leon has his mouth around her clit, tongue swirling around it as he slowly sinks a finger into her. The tightness is warm and wet and Leon can’t help but groan at the feeling. He sinks his finger into the knuckle before pulling out, slowly easing another one into her. He pauses as she adjusts to the feeling, holding still to simply bask in the way she looks. Mouth open, frozen in wanton pleasure as she starts to squirm, a silent plea for him to continue. Leon happily obliged, building up a steady pace with fingers, the room echoing with a mixture of her moans and the squelching of her arousal. His fingers thrust into her at an angle, finding that special spongy spot as her breaths came out in pants. Leon couldn’t help but feel a smirk tug at his lips as he began to repeat his motions, watching in awe as her chest heaved and her stomach tightened. A few quick kitten licks to her clit had her throwing back her head, her fingers entangling themselves in his hair. As she comes undone, he continues to work her through her orgasm, fingers finally slipping out as he pulls his face back, his chin glossy with her arousal. He crawls up her body, running a hand along the curves of her face as he presses his lips to hers and he can’t help but melt into her. She is everything he is not, and he feels as though he has found a missing piece of his soul.

“I love you,” Leon murmurs, breaking away to gaze into her eyes. He can’t bring himself to care about the ramifications of his actions, the potential discourse of his admission of affection. At this moment, he is not an agent, he’s just a man in love. 

“I love you too,” the rookie whispers back, reaching up and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. Leon groans softly, feeling all too aware of his growing desire. The rookie reaches up, wrapping her arms around his neck, and pulls him back to her. 

“I’m ready if you are,” she says, her lips ghosting over his ear. Leon suppresses a shudder as meets her lips in a kiss, his free hand grasping the base of his cock as he runs in through her slick folds. With a groan he slowly sinks into her, the warmth enveloping him as he loses himself to her. He stills for a moment, the pair basking in the feeling of becoming one before Leon slowly starts to thrust, pulling out before gently thrusting back up into her. A whine leaves his mouth before he can stop it, the pleasure is all-consuming as he keeps up a gentle thrust. Her arms cling to him, a hand trailing down his back. Leon can’t tell where he ends and where she begins, all he can feel is the tightening of his stomach, his pace becoming more erratic as the coil inside him grows taut. He raises her thigh, pulling back slightly to worm a hand between the two of them, his calloused finger on her clit as he massages it, building up the pace until he can feel her clench around him, her whines and moans growing to a high pitch. Leon watches as her body begins to shake against him, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead as he waits for her to finish.  It’s a beautiful sight to watch her come undone against him, her cheeks flushed and eyes glassy. With a final grunt, he pulls out, his hip bucking upward into his hand as cums on her stomach, his body shaking from the feeling.

He falls beside her, his hair plastered to his sweaty forehead, his chest heaving from exertion. His arms wrap around her, pulling her close to him as he closes his eyes and presses a kiss to her temple. There are no words to be said. The night will soon end and it will be a new day. Leon isn’t sure what the future holds for them as their lives are not theirs to control. If he could freeze time he would spend an eternity like this, pressed up against her, frozen in a kiss until the end of time. Leon couldn’t think of a more beautiful existence. 

Note: I hope you've enjoyed this! Posting makes me nauseous lol. If there are any errors I apologize!

Tag:@tarantulasnot

[akabaka-dev]

I wrote a short essay on SFL themes for an application thing, and it'd be a shame if this thing never sees the light of day. Hope y'all find it interesting!

💜💚💜💚💜💚

Sucker for Love: Date to Die For follows Stardust, a Black asexual lesbian, as she returns to her hometown to investigate her parents' disappearance. She finds the town has been taken captive by bloodthirsty cultists of the eldritch goddess Black Goat of The Woods, Rhok'zan. Stardust now must fight for her life with the help of Rhok'zan, whose cult has now turned against her in their lust-driven madness. Stardust is immune to Rhok'zan's aura which drives people mad with lust, making her the only person who can stop the cult. In her journey to escape, Stardust's optimism and empathy save them both.

Sucker for Love: Date to Die For is a adaption of "The Shadow over Innsmouth" and reclaimation of H.P. Lovecraft's character, Shub-Niggurath. In Lovecraft's stories, she functions as a veiled representation of Lovecraft's fear that minorities may outpopulate white people. She appears as a perverse, monstrous deity who continually births horrifying pitch-black young, who consume non-believers with the intention of taking over the whole world. In the game, Shub-Niggurath's monstrous qualities are subverted in Rhok'zan as positive traits. Malevolence becomes maternal doting and warmth; a desire to consume and destroy becomes a desire to bless all living-beings, give them long-life, and heal their wounds.

Similarly, "The Shadow over Innsmouth" depicts a man who finds himself trapped in an unwelcoming town where its inhabitants have been attacked and forced to breed with Deep Ones. Their rumored hybrid offspring appear human before slowly turning into Deep Ones. The inhabitants' suspicious and hateful eyes follow him everywhere; there is no safe place to hide or help coming. The story themes reflect Lovecraft's fear of the unknown, trying to replicate the feeling of being white and traveling through a minority ghetto. Sucker for Love: Date to Die flips the script by reimagining that fear through the Black lense of sundown towns- places dominated by white people who use all the systems tipped in their favor to exclude people of color through threats and violence. Through Stardust's eyes, players experience the consuming sense of total vulnerability as a minority. Stardust lacks the cultists' distinctive "Sacremencho Stare", so she is instantly idetified as an other. There is no place to run, no police, no disguse; not even her childhood home is safe. The systems that should to protect Stardust are instead used to exert control.

Sucker for Love: Date to Die For offers a fresh perspective on cosmic horror from the lived Black experience. Stardust’s journey challenges entrenched systems of control with empathy and optimism, reinterpreting Lovecraft’s fear of the unknown and highlighting the power of compassion in overcoming adversity.

[vamphorica]

ashes to ashes, dust to dust

i wrote a very short fic inspired by @iheartmello 's absolutely wonderful birthday piece for mello. it really inspired me, thank you so much Rudy for creating it ♡

just be warned that i very much return to my roots in horror writing with this one, so it is quite intense. aside from that, enjoy!

read below (683 words) ⬎

You are holding the hand of a stranger. You ought to recognise him really, he is you, but at the age of ten years old, you perceive him only in that hazy apparition in which all adults fall into. A man who does not smile, or speak to you, but clings onto your hand with a force that makes you wince. You wonder if he is lonely, so you tolerate the discomfort in the hope that maybe it will make him feel better, his desire to possess you like a spirit. To be exorcised of his embrace might hurt him, and there is something of the sadness that lingers in his expression that you feel responsible for. 

Looking around, there is nothing else to be seen in this endless void in which the two of you stand. You are at an age where someone is always present to explain life’s mysteries, to satiate your ever growing curiosity about the world, but there is a distinct loss of that guidance here. You can hear your heartbeat in the centre of your mind, a throbbing anxiety that claws away with questions you feel too overwhelmed to ask. In fact, the very thought of trying to converse with the one beside you has not even occurred, and as you meet his gaze – he is looking at you too – you wonder if you ought to say something. Anything. 

Before you can open your mouth, to eject words that could resemble a sentence, the stench of burning hits you. Your only experience with such an odour has been contained. A bonfire erected on Guy Fawkes night, the small flame of a lighter you once found on the pavement, an unfortunate attempt at baking a cake for a birthday. The scent, unpleasant, posed no real threat, but there is something rather more dangerous in the unrelentless harshness of what now emanates here. 

You watch as the man aside you becomes consumed by flames.

It is so without warning that you cannot conceptualise what you witness. The blaze is blinding, your eyes watering in the close proximity, and the heat is close to unbearable. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of your neck and you hear yourself screaming but you know you aren’t, that it is the intense pressure building up in your head that screeches at the horror of flesh set alight.

Paralysed, you cannot pull away from the tight grip with which the man holds onto you, even if you had thought to do so. His stare is so intense, even as the flames crawl up onto his face, charring his pale skin to a nauseating redness turned black within an instant. He is calm. No slight indication in his expression suggests even discomfort, much less the pain of being burnt alive. He is disintegrating before your eyes, as the crackling sound evident of cremation tears through that silence between the two of you. It is only a single tear that threatens his demeanour and even then, it does not fall.

The fire only grows, a creature so furious in its intent to destroy that the very havoc it enkindles encourages its aggression. It will reach you too, eventually, if the dense smoke that arises from its wrath doesn’t suffocate you first. You already feel like you have lost the ability to breathe, as if your lungs have collapsed against your ribcage under the pressure of keeping you alive. You are fucking scared, and you still have no idea what any of this means, only that you are watching the death of a man who you believe you ought to have saved, somehow. You are just a child, how are you meant to do such a thing?

The stranger’s hand suddenly pulls back from your own, as you stagger backwards, a ragged gasp now pulled sharply within. His outstretched palm, decorated by a small bracelet with a silver cross charm that hangs from his wrist, is the last thing you see before the flames reclaim it, condemning it to the fate of nothing more than ash.

[random-stuff567]

Drew this for a Swap AU where Sonic was found at a young age and brought to the ARK to be studied as the naturally-born Ultimate Lifeform.

Despite his situation he finds himself managing to bond with many scientists and researchers on the ARK. And despite his continuous escape attempts along with millions worth of damage repairs, they find themselves endeared to him.

Still they couldn't let him keep destroying equipment whenever he feels like it, so they assigned him a minder. Brought from Mobius, a fellow hedgehog like him called Amy Rose, thinking that she'll be a calming influence on him. Which was a failure as she soon starts falling for him, and even helping him out in his escape attempts.

Unfortunately like in the main timeline, G.U.N still attacks after lab experiments went wild on the ARK, and they moved in to shut things down. Sonic watches many of the scientists he grew up with get gunned down, while trying to get an injured Amy to safety, placing her in a medical pod that puts her in suspended animation while her injuries are healed.

But while fighting off G.U.N, the damage done to the ARK caused the medical wing to explode and he watches in stunned horror, allowing him to be captured and placed in cryo freeze.

Unknown to him however, while he was distracted, G.U.N secured the medical wing and was transporting away the medical pod with Amy inside before Sonic’s fight with their other forces triggered a chain reaction that caused the explosion, leaving her pod drifting in space. Five decades passed and the pod sustaining itself with both solar and its emergency power source is drifted back into Mobius’ atmosphere, crash landing near a town where a certain rabbit mother and daughter finds her.

At the same time, miles away in a G.U.N facility, Sonic is awoken from cryo by a grown Ivo Robotnik, who he knew as a boy when growing up in the ARK. They were never close despite his best efforts, as a young Ivo seemed to despise him from the moment they met. Now, fifty years later, the now Doctor Ivo Robotnik asks if Sonic wants revenge against the people that took everything from them fifty years ago.

With nothing left to lose and only pain in his heart, Sonic agreed.

***

Meanwhile, almost twenty years ago on Earth, Gerald Robotnik succeeded in creating the Ultimate Lifeform, artificial and genetically superior to the one in the ARK which his son and daughter in law manages.

With the help of Black Arms DNA and Sonic's genetic material as a base, he succeeded in creating Shadow the Hedgehog without any need of a prototype.

Thanks to advancing medical treatment, Maria was able to extend her life by decades even though she had flares of pain and bad days still from her NID, but the progression of her disease is slowed until it is no longer fatal.

Shadow grows up on Mobius and grew a love for nature, and while he occasionally ventures out to see the world and bring back souvenirs and stories for Maria, he mostly stays by her side as a caretaker and lab assistant.

He does not have much friends outside of her, and Rouge, a child bat he came across on his adventures who is a young aspiring treasure hunter that wants to follow him around and be his sidekick simply because she thinks he is magnetically attracted to trouble which will therefore have the best chances of running into treasure.

Together they went on many adventures across the world, occasionally saving it from time to time against many dangers and mostly stopping Doctor Ivo Robotnik, or Doctor Eggman as Rouge calls him, from enslaving the world and turning them all into robots. For some odd reason, Eggman has a strange hatred for Shadow from the moment they met.

[omegalomania]

no ok like. i know this is The YBC Blog and all but i really truly need to go off about how GENUINELY fucking fascinating the whole "young volcanoes" video is on a metatextual level. like the entirety of the youngblood chronicles says a WHOLE hell of a lot about the band in terms of the metaphors it's painting wrt the hiatus and reformation and the fact that they took this particular song (sonically incredibly airy and cheerful, lyrically desolate) and turned it into the dinner party from hell. this is a story where an external force chops up the lead singer and hollows him out and then serves his organs to the rest of the band. theyre made to consume him, literally, against their will!!! and thats not all!! they are vividly hallucinating at this point, because theyve been heavily drugged - again, against their will! - and they see this whole thing as a joyous affair. in their blitzed out brains, this is them reuniting after the harrowing experience of being kidnapped off the goddamn streets! and then they have this fucked up trippy GROUP HALLUCINATION where they are literally EATING PATRICKS ORGANS. and in the real world, none of them can see this happening - except patrick. patrick is not blindfolded. patrick can see them being forcefed his own viscera and he's too fucking high off his ass to do anything about it. in fact, in reality, he barely acknowledges his bandmates at all.

like just thinking about this from a metaphorical perspective. its fucking fascinating innit. the band literally cannibalizes patrick against their will, and he cannibalizes himself against his will, and they are all made to believe this is something that they want to have happen. they are misled and drugged into this. they eat him alive. they eat him ALIVE. and they are made to think they're having a great time doing it.

the band consumes itself for the seeming entertainment of the onlooking vixens. and they don't explore this through the avenue of pete, who the rest of the band regularly cites as the creative impetus behind the band, but through patrick, the voice. the mouthpiece. the one who sings the words. this is the third fucking video they released when the band came back from hiatus. and its this. it is the band being forced to consume the lead singer and primary composer from the inside, and him participating in this forced consumption.

it makes me grip my head and scream. we witness this horrifying incident so early and things only get worse and worse from there. for all that patrick kills joe and pete later in the narrative, they have patrick's blood on their lips first, staining their mouths, slicking their insides. and, like the case with patrick, who has been warped into something violent, they don't do this willingly; it is done to them. we see what true and genuine hatred of music and creativity has motivated the vixens to do. and in contrast we see, by the story's end, the thesis statement that the defenders of the faith love each other beyond any earthly horror that can be inflicted upon them. how unbelievably unfathomably fucking captivating for this to be present at the very start, this warped perversion of that kind of love. what else is friendship and brotherhood but this. what else is love at its most destructive and possessive than this. we are friends, we are brothers in arms, we are companions until the bitterest of all bitter ends. we have wrought immeasurable horrors upon each other. we have consumed each other. we have eaten each other alive. we all have each other's blood on our hands and in our mouths. if save rock and roll is the brightest and most elevated declaration of love imaginable, then young volcanoes is the darkest and most twisted. we don't want to be here. we're having the time of our lives. we're trapped. we're screaming. we missed you. we are better together. we are destroying each other. we love you. we love you to the most twisted and horrific and absolute endpoint imaginable. we love you. they won't let us stop loving you. we love you. they won't let us stop. we love you.

[soaps-mohawk]

I am... Desperately waiting for chapter 9, no pressure, but I read the last two back to back and I gripping my sheets in anticipation. I was expecting to read that Ghost had a similar experience with his father, but then you threw me from the chopper with no parachute and no warning. Like holy fuck. Also he seemed... Upset that he Price was happy to make the Omega happy and get her what she likes.. is it because he was having difficulties moving past his trauma and nightmares as well?

If I had a way to just plug my brain into the computer and turn the images in my head into 7k words with little to no effort I would do it, believe me 😭

I mean, you're not entirely wrong. I'm using OG Ghost's backstory for this one too, like a lot of writers do, so that's definitely going to come into play later as well when reader starts revealing more and more of her backstory later on.

See, here's the thing. Ghost and death are best friends, right? They follow each other like shadows. Ghost has seen many, many people die and he has killed many himself, a lot of which were probably omegas that got caught in the crossfire. So you'd think some nameless omega getting shot in front of him wouldn't stick with him like that. Like yeah, that's pretty brutal for his first mission, but he's done far worse things since then. So, something like that shouldn't bother him.

Until, suddenly there's an omega being added to their pack. There's an unwanted dynamic being forced upon all of them and he's, of course, the least happy about it. They don't need some weak, mindless omega. They don't need a loose end, a vulnerability.

Then this omega shows up, and obviously something's off from the start. There's things not adding up, things not quite right with the omega and the situation. Suddenly this omega isn't some mindless subservient creature, it's a real person with a name and a face and he's sitting there watching his beta and Gaz and his Captain slowly fall for this thing that none of them had wanted. I mean, Price was fighting adding an omega for months before he was finally told no, you're getting one because the higher-ups said so.

So now, suddenly, there's this real, tangible thing in front of him. He's watching his beta slowly develop feelings for this omega and now he wants to pursue a bond with the omega and that's something Ghost will have to put up with, because of course he's not going to tell Johnny he can't. There's this real thing in their lives that would destroy each of them if something happened to it. He'd be forced to watch his pack, the only people he cares about in the world, fall apart if this thing was ever taken from them.

Now this nameless omega is beginning to take form in his dreams again. He's being haunted by something that happened probably fifteen years ago, something that had been lost in a haze of blood and violence. This omega that he couldn't save suddenly begins to have a face and a name, it's becoming real, something he can see, something he can lose.

The faceless omega has become the reader.

There's a real fear there now. Their lives are dangerous. They have enemies. If someone found out about the omega, it would be so easy to distract them, to tear them apart from the inside. He's scared for the first time in a long time because now there's something to lose. Something innocent and free from the bloodshed of their jobs, of their lives. Losing a member of the pack is something they all had to come to terms with. Any mission could be their last, they could die at any moment and that's something they've all had to accept. They were fine with that, they understood. It's part of the lifestyle. It's what they agreed to when they signed their names on the sheet of paper.

Now there's an omega.

Defenseless, blind to the true dangers of their lives, naive to the real horrors they're capable of. The omega didn't have a choice in this. If one of them doesn't return, then that's just the dangers of the job. If their omega is gone?

It will destroy all of them.

Well...that turned into way more than I expected but damn that felt good to finally say. Lord that's what I've been holding in ever since chapter 1 when y'all were asking "what about Ghost??" "What's Ghost's deal?" "What's going to happen to Ghost?" I've been sitting on this. I've been holding it in for so long you have no idea how good that was to finally put into words.

Obviously there's more and things will slowly get uncovered as the story goes on, but yeah. This...this is what that last little part of Chapter 8 means. This is really what Ghost was saying when he told the reader about his nightmares, about what happened to that omega he didn't even know the name of, the one he couldn't save.

It was never about some omega, it's always been the reader.

[heliosail]

The Astromancer is a being of two worlds, not quite at home in either place. They can bend reality to their will, but often live in solitude, misunderstood by their peers.

Another fantastic illustration by @finxhes! Astromancers are revenants, who died or had a near death experience with the Nether. They can manipulate dark energy in order to bend physics to their will.

Features

Critical Attributes Body. Your Body modifier is your Proficiency bonus.

Mind. Your Mind modifier is used for your Perception checks. Your Attribute Save DC is [13 + Mind modifier]. When targets make saving throws against your Astromancy abilities, they must beat this DC.

Skills

Astromancers get special Tricks for the Endurance, Erudition, Intimidation, and Superstition skills. Choose at least 2 of these as your first skills. You may take all 4 if you like. After you have chosen, you can fill out the rest of your Core skills with any skills you wish.

Combat Proficiencies

Signature Weapon. Choose 1 from: Axe, Spear, Dirk, Hammer, Martial Arts, Musket, or Blunderbuss. Add your Proficiency Bonus to attacks made with this weapon.

Actions. You can take [1 + Mind Modifier] Actions per round in combat.

Reactions. Choose from Parry or Dodge as the Reaction you are proficient in. When you take this Reaction in combat, add your Proficiency Bonus.

Archetypal Abilities

Astromancy is using Dark Energy (DE) to manipulate the laws of reality. This energy comes from the rifts between our universe and the Nether. By using it, you can create Disturbances in the laws of physics. Many Disturbances can be resisted by a living target with an Attribute Save versus your Attribute Save DC. This is usually a Body save, but some Disturbances may call for others.

Disturbances are scalable abilities. This means that you can choose to invest more DE than is normally required to make a more powerful version of it. Every description for a Disturbance details how it can be scaled up, and what that costs.

Causing Disturbances

To create a Disturbance, you must first gather Dark Energy. You have 4 dice in your Energy Pool (4d8) to use each day. You can roll as many of these as you like at one time, but once you have “spent” (rolled) a die, you cannot use it again until the following day.

The total rolled on your Energy Dice is the amount of Dark Energy you can spend that turn. Gathering Dark Energy requires an Action in combat, but creating the Disturbance(s) does not. You can choose to end a Disturbance early at any time, without spending an Action, but any left over Dark Energy is lose. All Dark Energy must be used the same turn it is gathered, and the extra evaporates.

Some Disturbances can be created in their most basic form without spending any Energy Dice. These still cost an Action to create in combat, however. You can create them even if you are entirely out of Energy Dice for the day, but if your Astromancy is inhibited by any outside force, this also suppresses these basic Disturbances.

Specialization

There are 4 types of Disturbances that Astromancers can cause. You must choose 1 of the 4 types to specialize in. Disturbances of your chosen type cost you less Dark Energy to create, and you gain access to a powerful, exclusive Disturbance from the type you choose.

Gateway

Gatewrights feel a special connection to the Nether beyond other Astromancers. If you choose this as your specialization, you focus on opening Rifts to the other universe, wanting to access it whenever you can. Those who study Rifts in detail like this gain the ability to summon a Rift Horror- a gigantic Netheri which will reach its tentacles into our world in order to explore, injuring anything in its path.

Matter

Matterwrights can use their connection to the Nether to “borrow” matter from the other universe, giving the appearance of creating it from nothing, or destroying it by banishing it away. You can use Matter Disturbances to change the mass or density of something, or rearrange the shape Matter is existing in. Matterwrights can create an Anti-Matter Bomb, a devastating explosion which creates a huge Hazardous area around it (pg ##).

Unreality

As a Realiwright, you bend the “fabric” of the space-time continuum directly, changing the experiences and perceptions of those around you. You can alter the flow of time, and manipulate the travel of light. Realiwrights gain the ability to Distort Time for their enemies and allies.

Vibration

The Vibwright is tapped into the invisible movement of all the subatomic particles that make up the universe. You manipulate the world around you by adjusting the frequency at which these particles vibrate. By doing this, you can create heat, light, and sound. Vibwrights are the only Astromancers who can use Quantum Thought to entangle their minds psychically with another person.

Focus

Focus is a way for Astromancers to keep a Disturbance's effect going for as long as needed, or adjust its power and scale on the fly, without having to re-create it. While Focusing, you can only move, talk, gather more Dark Energy, or make a change to the Disturbance you are concentrating on. Performing any other Action, creating any new Disturbances, or Parrying ends the effect you were Focused on. If you take damage while Focusing on a Disturbance, you must make a Body save to maintain your concentration. On fail, the Disturbance ends.

Collective Work

Multiple Astromancers working together can pool their Dark Energy to create more powerful Disturbances. You can aid another Astromancer by choosing to donate dice from your Energy Pool to them. If you are in combat, this is an Interrupt that requires spending an Action, and they immediately gain the Spotlight. They can then roll your dice in addition to their own to create a Disturbance. This exhausts your Energy Dice exactly as if you had used them yourself, and you must Rest before they are replenished.

Ship Action: Conditioning

An Astromancer can spend time with a crew member each week, in order to build up their tolerance for the forces of the Nether. After they disembark the ship, the crew member takes ½ damage from all Dark Energy sources. This effect lasts a number of days equal to the number of times the crew member participated. This can be done with only 1 crew member each week. This provides +1 morale to the Astromancer and -1 morale for the crew member they work with.

You can see the full list all the Astromancer abilities on patreon for free.

[bylerlipglances]

Will Byers Crucifixion

is he God or merely a pig for slaughter?

Severus: "A Pig for Slaughter"

The debate about sacrificing Will Byers to save the town brings to mind the conversations between Dumbledore and Snape about Harry's destiny. Just like Rowling was grappling with tough decisions for her characters, it feels like a similar moral conflict is at play here.

Both stories explore the heavy burden of making sacrifices for the greater good, highlighting the emotional and ethical dilemmas that come with such choices.

https://www.businessinsider.com/why-jk-rowling-didnt-kill-off-this-major-character-at-the-end-of-the-harry-potter-books-2016-1

"In some ways, it would have been a neater ending to kill him, but I felt it would have been a betrayal because I wanted my hero — and he’s my hero — to do what I think is the most noble thing,"So he came back from war and he tried to build a better world I suppose, as corny as that sounds." "We would all believe he was walking towards his death and he would emerge in Hagrid’s arms."

Notable authors were pleading for Harry not to be killed off, but many general readers felt that it would provide a fitting conclusion to the story.

Some fans of the series still wished Harry had died at the end of the series. There are even numerous “Harry Potter” fan fiction writers who focus their narratives on Harry’s death and how life would continue on after the “Chosen One” had been killed. But Rowling for her part doesn’t regret letting “The Boy Who Lived” survive at all. (zombie boy)“I felt it would be a betrayal of the character if I showed Harry doing anything other than living what all along he has discovered to be true, which is that love is the strongest power there is,” “I thought a lot about people who had been through terrible things like wars. And having to come home and rebuild and espouse a normality after seeing horrors has always seemed to me to be such a courageous thing to do.” “Climbing back to normality after trauma is much, much harder,” she added. “It’s much harder to rebuild than to destroy.”

Duffers could take a Snape-like approach with Will. Maybe they could have him trained in the art of Occlumency, turning him into a more skilled "super spy." This way, he could protect himself from Vecna while still working to save the town.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Harry willingly sacrifices himself to Voldemort, and everyone believes he’s dead. His friends and loved ones mourn him, but he later comes back.

Will isn’t dead but is trapped in the Upside Down, a dark and eerie alternate dimension. Harry enters a mysterious limbo where he speaks with Dumbledore before returning to life. Both experience a sort of afterlife or hidden realm where they are neither fully alive nor dead.

When Will is found alive, the Upside Down and the government’s cover-ups are revealed. When Harry comes back to life, it turns the tide of the Battle of Hogwarts, leading to Voldemort’s downfall. Both resurrections mark a major turning point.

Biblical Parallels

Will Byers, a Martyr Figure: Will has already suffered immensely-abducted, possessed, and psychically linked to the Mind Flayer. If he were to be crucified (literally or metaphorically), it could symbolize him being the ultimate sacrifice to save Hawkins (or the world). His fate could mirror Jesus’ crucifixion, where he willingly endures pain for the sake of others.

Literal Crucifixion in the Upside Down: Vecna 'quite literally' CRUCIFIES his victims.

Vecna might crucify Will as a final ritual to merge both worlds. His body could be covered in black veins and spores, like a dark and twisted “crown of thorns.”

A Symbolic Crucifixion – Betrayal & Sacrifice:

Judas Moment? Public Condemnation: The town of Hawkins could turn against Will, seeing him as a “curse” or a “harbinger” of the Upside Down’s destruction.

Sacrificial Death? Will might willingly offer himself to stop Vecna, much like Jesus accepting his fate on the cross.

will is infamous for inflicting pain on himself @strange-anni post

Resurrection? If Will dies, could he come back, changed? is he going to remain a Zombie boy or would he ascend to some new supernatural form like superman?

Biblical Parallels

Jesus suffers and is crucified; Will suffers in the Upside Down

Betrayed by Judas ; Hawkins turns on Will

Crown of thorns ; Black vines/spores wrapping around Will

Sacrifices himself for humanity; Will sacrifices himself for Hawkins

Resurrection on the third day; Will returns from death, changed

Concept of Death

Henry & Hades

Hades (God of the Underworld, the place where human souls go after death)

according to d&d lore, Vecna is depicted as a being who consumes souls, particularly when utilizing his powerful artifacts like the "Hand of Vecna" and the "Eye of Vecna," where interacting with them can lead to a portion of one's soul being taken by Vecna himself.

3 HEADS: CEREBRUS & DRAGON

Cerberus (hound of Hades) is a multi-headed dog guarding the underworld gates, preventing the dead from leaving.

Upside Down is a shadow-realm below the everyday world. the Upside Down is stuck in a decaying version of the past with no sunlight, water. There are monsters, slimy, twining vines that choke the life out of anyone they capture. Pale flakes float in the air like glowing nuclear ash.

Eastern religions view death as a transition or transformation rather than the end of existence. For instance the concept of the Atman (soul) & Avatars (gods) (earthly incarnation of a deity, particularly Vishnu, who descends to Earth to restore cosmic order and protect dharma) is central to Hinduism. Death is a 'GATEWAY' to a new existence. Hinduism & Buddhism believe in the cyclical rebirths of samsara.

In Christian theology, death is not the final end; rather, it marks the transition to a new, eternal life. Jesus states, “I am the resurrection and the life"

[ask-dbd-wh-au]

When Y/n dies, do they come back to life somehow in order to help Wally? I noticed that Y/n seems to remember hugging Wally and then dying. Is it possible that they just keep coming back because they're needed for something? Or is it just how that universe works until they "reach the end"? (the end being saving Wally) Or is just by sheer force of will that they keep coming back?

I apologize if this question is strange, I love this AU, despite not knowing anything about Dead By Daylight and I'd love to learn more!

*cracks knuckles*

Alrighty, so let me explain a few things ‘cause many questions like these are easily answerable if you know or have played DBD before! It's understandable if you aren't familiar with the game that this au is based on to be confused or lost about these aspects of its world. So! Let me do a rough summary of how the world of Dead by Daylight (the game) works and its lore!

So, the world that our darling Y/N and Wally find themselves in is neither earth nor the neighborhood that Wally comes from, it's a realm entirely created by the Entity. The Entity is an eldritch, world/reality destroying, horror that captures survivors and killers from various universes and realities to play into its twisted games to feed off their emotions, in a sense.

Many consider it like an Emotion Vampire, it feeds on fear, desperation, rage, hope, anger, and other intense emotions.(Which is why it never allows Wally any comfort or happiness, he’s supposed to be a killer invoking terror on the survivors, not the sad lil meow meow he actually is) When a killer or a survivor becomes numb and hollow of all emotions their soul is all consumed by the Entity and it replaces them with a new victim that its captured.

With that in mind, the way the Entity has these games (or also known as trials) is incredibly integral to how the Entity feeds. These hunts and deaths you see Y/N get chased and killed in are all a part of Trials the Entity creates using worlds it has consumed before as the stage.

Each trial has 4 survivors trying to fix 5 generators so they can power up an exit gate to “escape”. This is how the Entity feeds off hope, survivors think they are escaping the nightmare that is the Entity but in actuality they are just brought back to the campfire just to go into yet another trial all over again, an endless cycle. Opposing the survivors are the killers that the Entity has captured and brought to its realm to bring out these intense emotions from survivors, some killers are more willing than others… and some… well, they learn to obey the Entity one way or another.

The killers hunt and murder the survivors and the survivors try their damndest to try and escape and that cycle repeats over and over and over again until they are emotionless husks, the Entity constantly consuming from them the whole way through. In reality, no survivors remember what happens between trials and campfires, the Entity typically wipes clean their memory so they come in like fresh juiceboxes most of the time.

However, Y/N has always had a habit of writing things down to remember small things. Now that they are in the Entitys realm, they utilized their notebooks to help retain their memories through entries of their past experiences, its the only reason why they remember past trials at all.

So TLDR: Y/N keeps coming back from death because the entity is not done feeding off them.

(on another note as well: Y/N doesnt always face Wally, it's random who you get put with each time in a Trial which is why Y/N struggled to find Wally again so much. Just as Y/N doesn’t always face against Wally, Wally doesnt always wind up in trials with Y/N and is left to his struggles with the entity alone)

Also campfires are basically a respawn point all damage you got from Trials will go away and you basically reset and your memories wiped. Y/N's notebook is incredibly essential to helping retain their memories.

I will say I'm not exactly the best at explaining things but things like google and lore videos on youtube can go even more in-depth about the lore of DBD and how the world works!

Hope this helps and thank you greatly for the ask! I love talking about DBD since its a game I love to play and its lore has always been interesting to me!

-Demi💙

[duskmachine]

!! CHAINSAW MAN CHAPTER 167 SPOILERS !!

the newest chapter of chainsaw man and the reaction to it is actually making me feel like i've been blasted into a wall and broke every bone in my body. chapter 167 is the cumulation of everything denji theoretically wanted. he lost everything: his family, his home, his normal life. yet, he wished to become chainsaw man and wanted to "have tons and tons of sex!!"

it's happening all over again: denji was given a family, a home, good food, a normal life. but he, in his mind, killed aki. the guilt is eating at him; "there's no way i could ever have a family. i mean, i killed my own dad." nayuta even says, "i'll fill him up with happiness... then destroy it." and denji, failed to protect his only family, nayuta, ultimately "killing" her. (at the time of this post we don't know of her status)

so what does that have to do with chapter 167? the abuse has become part of denji's heart. he has no solid understanding of familial love, just that he seems to have an instinctual want for it. the same type of instinctual want that is his sex drive. he's moving purely with his heart which is driven by desires— desires that are fulfilled by a devil.

in chapter 167 both asa and denji have been assaulted. asa was not in control and denji did not utter a single word throughout the entire interaction. both are confused teenagers who function under selfish and conflicting wants. asa, who wishes to save denji because really she wants to be revered as a hero and seem like a better person. denji, who even in the face of great loss, wants to have "tons and tons of sex" because it's the only coping mechanism normalized for men.

these are desires of the heart and these devils exist to manipulate these desires into truths that exist in the most twisted way possible. chapter 167 is horrifying, not because "fujimoto how could you draw two teenagers in a sexual situation!!", but rather because these two teenagers will be irreversibly changed from their traumatic experiences because of the world of adults. they have been forced into using tools adults weaponize against each other: literal weapons, but also concepts of "justice", "love", and "sex". denji and asa are constantly being told what to do, and even worse, forced to do the biddings of adults and devils alike.

the chainsaw man church who claims all americans are "ultra violent" is immediately met with doubt from denji because he has been exposed to real americans who have all been relatively normal (at least, according to denji's definition of "normal"). denji can think for himself, but it requires him to be exposed to healthy and safe environments that allow him to learn... just like any other kid! this applies to asa too! she has never learned how to have healthy friendships, the one friend she has ever made put the adult responsibility of "justice" onto herself and became a monster. and asa had to kill her.

kids become monsters under heavy pressure from adults and the cycle of abuse never ends. i feel deeply sad that the reaction seems so reactionary and trivial. the horror of chainsaw man is the horror every teenager has to live through.

[mxchineherald]

verse :: the promise

setting: runeterra arcane (au) location: the sumps of zaun tag: #v :: the promise [extra lore here.]

[warning :: arcane s2 spoilers below.]

When Jayce arrived at the commune, he had one goal. Stop Viktor's glorious evolution. His mind, fractured by the transference through time and space, revealed the horrors of what Viktor's future would bring. He held every memory of his harrowing time in the desolate, rune-ravaged world. But when he aimed his hammer at his best friend, his closest partner, his deepest connection in the world... He couldn't pull the trigger. Instead, he surrendered himself freely to Viktor, pulling him into a hug to force a psychometric connection. In that instant, Viktor saw the entirety of Jayce's experiences, including the promise he made to the older, wiser Viktor to stop Hextech. Viktor knew instantly that the path he had chosen was the wrong one, and renounced all plans of any evolution, glorious or otherwise. The Noxians still attacked, killing many of the commune and capturing Viktor for experimentation under Singed, but Jayce, Caitlyn, Jinx, and Vi worked to rescue him before his ascension. With his aid, they managed to stop the Noxian incursion of Piltover at the same time. Sevika and the Lanes also aided in the battle, securing their place at the Council table. Ekko was able to reach the base of the Hexgate and destroy the anomaly using the Z-Drive as a makeshift magical bomb. Grateful for all they had done to save him, Viktor agreed to testify before the remaining council, warning them of the dangers of the Hexgates and the awakening of the Arcane. He proposed a return to the Ethos, and accepted his exile from the city as a byproduct. He returned to the commune, where some fifty to seventy-five of his faithful still remained. Choosing to exist as their guardian for the natural duration of their mortal lives, he severed himself from the rest of the world, closing the commune to outsiders and focusing on tending to those he bound to the Arcane, including Vander. Rarely, some precious few trusted allies and family members of the Healed are allowed to visit, but for the most part, his only company is his commune and Sky. On the very rare occasion, he will get to see Jayce, but usually his only form of contact with his former partner is through letters delivered by a private courier.

[somedayonbroadway]

Hi! I've been watching WandaVision, and the next episode will be the last I think, so I was wondering if you could do a WandaVision AU?

Yeeeee this is such an old ask but I am rewatching the show because I love it so much.

Sorry for such a late reply, anon.

WandaVision AU

Jack Kelly as Wanda

David Jacobs as Vision

Racetrack Higgins as Ralph/Pietro

Crutchie Morris as Monica

Albert DaSilva as Jimmy Woo

JoJo as Darcy Lewis

Mike and Ike as Billy and Tommy

Joseph Pulitzer as Agatha

I absolutely love the idea of this AU. I debated for a very long time about who I wanted to make Wanda. It was between Jack and Race, as it often is, and I was leaning towards Race for a long time but I think Jack makes more sense in the part.

Jack would’ve grown up with his baby brother, Racer. The two of them lived in Sokovia when they were young, with their parents who were later killed by a missile while the kids were trapped in the debris for over two days, able to see what remained of their parents bodies. Unknown to them at the time, Jack was born with miraculous powers of a witch and is immensely powerful. When they were kids, Jack loved watching sitcoms to escape from the horrors of the world.

Jack grows fiercely protective of his brother after their parents are taken from them. The two of them grow up protesting against the industry that killed their parents until they are basically tricked into Hydra’s experiments of the Mind Stone. These experiments are painful to Jack, amplifying his magic that he was only acutely aware of. This mind stone also gives Race the power of speed and opens a psychic connection between Jack and Race so they can communicate without speaking, making them all that much closer and more dependent on each other. Of the hundreds of people taken into this experiment, Jack and Race are the only survivors.

When the head of that experiment asks the brothers to help fight against the avengers, Jack goes immediately to get revenge on who he deems responsible for his parents’ death. His role is planting nightmarish visions into the heads of his victims to lead to their downfall, whether that means weakening them and scaring them enough to attack or forcing them to kill themselves to end the nightmare. He then helps with the creation of Ultron, who he is lead to believe will bring lasting peace, however, among looking into the machine’s mind, Jack finds that Ultron is planning the extinction of humanity and convinces Race that they need to turn against him.

After seeking help from the avengers, specifically a very skilled archer by the name of Bryan Denton, a very scared and traumatized Jack fights back against Snyder, the man who forced experimental practices on him and his brother, and Ultron.

However, as Ultron is attacking Sokovia, and Jack is guarding what could be a machine of global destruction, Race, who is also taken under Denton’s wing, shields him from being shot while the man is trying to get a young child back to his mother. Race is shot six times and saves Denton’s life by sacrificing his own.

A physical pain takes over Jack when he senses the loss of his brother, who is really the only person he’s ever had. He is unable to breathe for a full minute before he goes after Ultron personally and manages to destroy him.

David, a version of technology that had been destroyed by Ultron and recovered, saves Jack’s life despite Jack walking back into the collapsing city to sit by his brother’s body.

Jack is invited to train with the avengers after this, despite the overwhelming grief and Davey grows closer and closer to him as he is learning how to be human and Jack is relearning how to live without a psychic connection with his brother.

Before long, Jack and David fall for each other and begin to live a life together, desperate to be a happy, normal couple, but as the fate of the world is threatened, are forced to come back and fight with the avengers.

However, Jack discovers that David’s soul is made of the very same stone that created Race’s powers and their psychic link and it is a stone that the world’s attacker is after.

Jack tries to remove us peacefully without hurting David, but as they run out of time, David assures him that he must take it and destroy it, which would surely kill him. After delaying as much as he could, Jack is forced to take the stone and crush it before the alien creature can get ahold of it. However, the time stone allows the alien to rewind time, kill David in front of Jack again, forcing Jack to watch his pain as he takes the stone and wins anyway.

Jack can only scream and hold the body of his love before he falls victim to The Blip and fades away to dust.

When Jack is brought back, Denton takes him in, knowing the kid had lost everything he’d ever had and known.

Then, one day, Jack wakes up in a life he’d always dreamed of, and can’t remember anything before. He is happily married with his husband, Davey and as far as he knows, that’s how it’s always been.

Jack had unknowingly released chaos magic and has painfully forced an entire society into playing roles in a real life sitcom. He tries to allow himself to be happy despite knowing that something is wrong. However, he is aware of his and his husband’s power.

After simply talking about having kids, Jack ends up pregnant, which is a complete shock to him, but doesn’t seem to surprise anyone else, other than David, as Jack shouldn’t be able to get pregnant. Yet after only a few days, he becomes fully pregnant, he gives birth to two identical twins, Michael and Isaac with the help of a neighbor named Charlie who walks with a limp and a cane. After delivering the babies, Charlie seems dazed and confused and asks Jack about Race dying at Ultron’s hand and David being killed in front of him twice, but to protect his new life, Jack telekinetically casts Charlie out of his carefully created world which Jack can recall only for a moment is the result of his own magical enslavement of the town.

After repairing his perfect home, Jack holds his sons and waits for David to come home. They only get to revel in the sight of their children for a short while before the children begin to rapidly age themselves up. Jack is amazed by this as Mike is revealed to have magic very similar to his own and Ike is a speedster just like Race. But as time continues and SWORD continues to try and disrupt Jack’s crafted reality, Jack exits his world to confront them, telling them that if they threaten his perfect world again, they will be sorry. Though Jack still isn’t aware of exactly how he created this world, he knows that everyone he needs is there and he won’t let anyone get in the way of that again.

He goes back home only to find David distraught as his husband has accidentally freed someone from Jack’s control and found that Jac is causing them immense pain. Jack starts explaining that he feels that same pain everyday and this is the only cure for that. Still David insists he stop, though he does tell Jack he loves him and he knows it will be hard.

Almost considering letting go, Jack is interrupted by a knock at the door, opening it to find none other than his baby brother waiting for him outside the door, looking happy and healthy and safe and Jack knows he can’t let that go.

Jack confides in Race, telling him he has no idea what he’s done. He can’t remember anything other than being alone, hurting and angry and all of the sudden, he was here where everyone he ever loved was.

Race comforts him, telling him that maybe it was a second chance.

But Jack can feel that something is wrong as David escapes the town to try and get help for the people, only resulting in starting to die. So Jack, feeling this, expands the boundaries of the town, retrapping Charlie and also getting Albert and JoJo.

Jack starts to lose control of the reality he created and Charlie tries to talk him down but Pulitzer, Jack’s next door neighbor who’d been his friend since beginning, takes him to his house where he reveals that he’s taken Mike and Ike and forces Jack to relive the moment where he took control of the town. The pain of reliving coming back and having no one brings Jack to his knees and he’s unable to lash out as Pulitzer reveals that Jack is the legendary Scarlet Witch, a reincarnation of a Witch that has been around since the beginning of time.

But as Pulitzer tells Jack he’s going to get rid of the kids because they’re not real, Jack fights back, feeling deep down that in some universe, those were his children.

While fighting, Pulitzer frees the town from Jack's hold, revealing to him that he’d accidentally trapped them inside their own grief and nightmares that they relived over and over again while playing their parts in his perfect world. Jack is horrified by this and loses control of his power again, nearly choking all the residents to death. He manages to stop himself and restore the town, letting the people go, but Davey and Race and Mike and Ike begin to disappear before his eyes. So he puts his hex back up in a desperate attempt to save his family.

As SWORD is able to rush into the town, Jack is able to take down Pulitzer by trapping him in his persona that he took in Jack’s dream. Charlie is able to talk Jack down and Jack is forced to say goodbye to his husband, brother and sons and promises Charlie to understand his powers.

Jack is distraught and seeks out the Darkhold that he begins to study.

However he begins to hear the screams of his two boys, Race and David and knows he can’t live without them…

Please please let me know if you wanna see anything written out from this AU!

For more mood boards and AUs, click here!

[roguelioness]

fables from the field

[written for ffxivwrite2024]

Day 6: Halcyon

Rating: T Words: 1095 Pairing: implied Estinien Varlineau/Alyzen Kaide Additional notes: Major Endwalker spoilers!

Estinien can see her breaking.

They all can, of course. They all see the cracks in her armor, the dents in her shield; they see the cracks in her heart and the holes in her soul.

And none of them can do anything about it.

There is too much to be done. Too many ways their attention is required. With a world to save, there is little time that he can afford to spend in healing Alyzen, no matter how much he may want to.

And he wants to, so very badly.

Each night he watches her fall into uneasy sleep, her body doing what it can to lessen the sting of new wounds etched on her skin. Each morning he wakes to find her staring up at the ceiling, the circles beneath her eyes growing darker by the day.

There is no respite. Blasphemies roam the lands and haunt the skies. Those yet unchanged require aid in a myriad ways. And amidst all the chaos, there are new truths unearthed, each more shattering than the last.

The prison on the moon – now broken.

The prisoner on the moon – now dead.

There were things in Alyzen’s mind he was not privy to. He could understand it – did understand it. Some matters could not be spoken of if only because there were no words with which to describe them – like his experience as prisoner of his nemesis in his own body, for one.

One such instance was her reaction to Garlemald. Within the horror and determination and curiosity there was a kernel of sorrow. He’d noticed the way she observed the monstrous remains of the palace with quiet introspection, as though within it lay a riddle she yearned to understand – and knew, with certainty, that it was not the Crown Prince who held her attention.

Until he forced his scrutiny upon her.

Even now, the mere thought of what Zenos put Alyzen through sends a surge of white-hot rage through him that ignites what remains of Nidhogg’s essence, and it is with a good deal of effort that Estinien forces himself to calm. If her travails on the First had caused the first cracks within her, Zenos had widened them tenfold. There were yet times when she awoke screaming in the middle of the night, touching and stretching and pinching her skin and flesh to reassure herself that she was her body’s only occupant.

Gazing out of the window of his chamber at Meghaduta, he watches as life in Radz-at-Han continues. There is still fear in the air – the memories of the Blasphemy attack that killed the Satrap are fresh – but despite the troubles, the people continue to persevere, relying on their faith upon the Sisters to guide them and keep them safe.

He… does not know who to pray to. Does not know if the Twelve listen. After the lies of the Holy See, after learning that they who were to be closest to Halone were responsible for the many injustices in Ishgardian society… why had She not intervened on behalf of Her faithful? Why would the gods have allowed such tragedies to befall the people over and over? So many worlds destroyed, so many lives lost to ascian machination.  – how could they justify their lack of involvement?

Still, he places a hand on his chest, staring up at the clear blue sky, and hopes, fervently, earnestly, ardently, that Alyzen is safe. That she finds not just what they need, but those answers that might let the many unspoken thoughts on her mind rest.

When she returns from the past – from Elpis – he takes but one look at her face to know that his hopes have been for naught. Something haunted lurks behind her eyes, grief and loss and guilt, and it isn’t until she speaks of her experience that he can begin to comprehend the depth of her sorrow.

She describes a utopian world – or as near to it as can be achieved – whose society enjoys an endless stretch of halcyon days and nights. Of a people united who work tirelessly for the betterment of their world. She talks about Hermes, the man who would become Fandaniel, who wished to explore the stars in search for the meaning to life; of the creature Meteion who, along with her sisters, was the true cause of the Final Days. She speaks of Venat, and Kairos, and there are a dozen other details he could not recall and a dozen more that could be the cause of her distress – but he knows her, has been with her long enough to know that there is aught else that has scarred her very soul.

That night, her head on his shoulder, her skin pressed to his, she confesses in a voice so low he has to bend his ear close to her lips to make out the words. “It is my fault,” she whispers. “It was because I went back in time that this terrible course of history for our star was charted. Had I remained…” she breathes in a shuddering sob, “those ancients would be living their lives amidst the beauty of their world.” She is so still, so stiff, so cold; he tightens his hold on her for fear she might vanish. “How am I to live with the guilt of this? What right do I have to seek a better future for myself after all I have wrought?”

“‘Tis not your doing,” he presses his lips to her forehead, “You did not create that entelechy. You did not force Hermes to use the Kairos; you did not make him risk his world and his people for his answers. You have every right to a future of peace and calm, same as all those you fight for.”

“‘He was doomed to a millenia of loneliness,” her tears smear against his chest, “Emet-Selch. He… he knew what awaited him, and yet he… he helped me escape. And I… I repaid him with death.” Her fingers press into him, like he’s the only thing keeping her tethered. “I am no warrior,” she confesses, “I am a murderer. This world deserves better than me.”

“Hush,” he chides. “That is a lie, and you know it.”

She sighs. “And yet, ‘Stin… I cannot bear to look at myself.”

“Have faith, ma belle. We will overcome this, and there shall be brighter, gentler times ahead.”

Alyzen is quiet for so long, he thinks she may have fallen asleep. But then she speaks, quiet and trusting, “I hope so, ‘Stin. I hope so.”

[good-old-gossip]

The ceasefire brought no relief. It just marked the beginning of another psychological war: new displacement, the endless search for missing loved ones, and the exhumation of bodies buried under rubble, writes Ahmed Alsammak. [GETTY]

It was midnight on December 28, 2008, during the first Israeli war on Gaza, when I was jolted awake by my neighbour shouting from their window: “Evacuate the house now! They will bomb it in minutes!”

Terrified, I had no idea what to do. My mother quickly woke my two siblings up, and we fled the house, still dressed in our nightclothes. We had barely gone 50 meters when missiles illuminated the area. We crouched beneath a wall for cover as rubble and smoke engulfed us. After a few moments, we started running again, heading towards my grandfather’s house, about 1.5 kilometres away.

It was the first war I had lived through, and I was only 13-years-old. I had been preparing for my exams and was eagerly awaiting the school holidays. When the attacks began, I had innocently asked my mother: "Is my schoolbag and stationery safe to take the next exam?"

Each day of war was a living hell. I couldn’t understand why they were bombing us, especially children.

The next morning, we returned to what was left of our home—a place my family had poured their life savings into. Three houses in our neighbourhood had been reduced to rubble. I couldn’t even recognise my room, nor could I identify the boundaries of our house.

When the war ended, most displaced people returned to their homes, except those who were killed, or those whose houses were entirely destroyed.

We were forced to rent a small apartment in a noisy and crowded part of Al-Bureij refugee camp, in the middle of the Gaza Strip. There was no space to play football or hide-and-seek with my siblings and cousins, but I didn’t complain—we were considered lucky to have found shelter. I had nightmares for months and didn’t dare leave the house at night for years after the war.

During my final year of high school, I worked tirelessly to achieve my dream of becoming a journalist—a career born from my passion to share with the world what life under occupation is truly like. But Israel launched another 8-day war on Gaza in 2012. Each second felt like an eternity as I lived in constant fear of being killed, losing my family, or seeing our home and school destroyed.

On the last day, just hours before the ceasefire came into effect, our house was bombed. It was one of the worst, most unbearable moments of my life. Most of the houses in my neighbourhood were also flattened. I cried inconsolably. It had taken us two years to rebuild after the first bombing, with a mountain of debt and loans. We were forced to endure more displacement.

That war left me with severe anxiety that significantly impacted my studies, lowering my GPA from 91% to 70%. But, thankfully, I was able to meet the required percentage for journalism school at Al-Azhar University in Gaza.

In 2013, I began my university studies, but I was always haunted by the horrors I’d experienced. We rebuilt the house again and moved back in in 2014, just a few months before the third bloody attack by Israel.

For weeks, Israel killed thousands of Palestinians. Whilst I didn’t lose any family members or our home, the psychological scars were unbearable. I couldn’t function. The horrors triggered severe anxiety and depression, robbing me of any sense of normalcy.

It’s almost impossible to find a Palestinian who hasn’t experienced this. I used to look at people’s faces after the war, they were filled with sadness and exhaustion. Even young people had wrinkles that told stories of suffering and hardship.

Every few months—or a year at most—Israel launches full-scale attacks or escalations of violence in Gaza. The aim seems to be to ensure that every Palestinian experiences the terror of war, forcing us to pay a heavy price simply for living in our homeland.

In September 2023, I was fortunate enough to receive a scholarship to pursue my Master’s degree in Ireland. I travelled through the Erez crossing, which links Gaza with Israel. As we passed the land my grandparents were forcibly expelled from during the ethnic cleansing of 1948, I felt an overwhelming wave of sorrow. Tears streamed down my face when I saw Jerusalem.

I begged the driver to let me visit Al-Aqsa Mosque to pray and see the Church of the Holy Sepulchre where Jesus died, was buried, and rose from the dead. He apologised, as my permit was "shuttle" – meaning only crossing to Jordan was permitted, not exploring the city. I pleaded with him, but he refused.

I was utterly exhausted when I arrived in Ireland and I fell asleep immediately once I reached the hotel. When I woke up, I walked the streets, observing people's faces. Their facial expressions were different from those in Gaza. Wrinkles were only visible on the elderly.

I spent the most beautiful few weeks of my life: safe and carefree, of course, because I was so far away from the Israeli occupation. No more wars, escalations, bombings, or electricity cuts – until the most recent genocide erupted. It was more brutal than the Nakba, as many older Palestinians told me.

Being away while having a family in Gaza is more harrowing than living through the war itself. In the first two months, I lost two uncles and many cousins. Shortly afterwards, our house was bombed by the Israeli army, who burned what remained of it when they stationed and besieged our neighbourhood.

The ceasefire brought no relief. It just marked the beginning of another psychological war: new displacement, the endless search for missing loved ones, and the exhumation of bodies buried under rubble.

Mothers notice the empty beds of their slain children, smaller portions of food as the family members are fewer now, smaller cutlery, and empty shoes that no one will ever fill. Widows yearn for the embrace of their husbands, while orphaned children go to school without breakfast, their mothers' comforting laps now gone forever.

Palestinians now live with the atrocities they endured during one of the bloodiest genocides in modern history. Life will never ever be normal for Palestinians after this.

By

Ahmed Alsammak

Follow him on X (Twitter): @Ahmed_al_sammak