#i feel so detached from everything now like none of this feels real

[haechannabelle]

ok personal venting in the tags time. giving u my TMI like stray kids said

[mellowswriting]

How about slow, sweaty, make up sex with Din Djarin! Thank you!

a real apology

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || ~ 900

summary || sweet, slow makeup sex

content || SMUT, unprotected p in v sex, din is whipped, fluff, no use of Y/N, unbeta'd (all mistakes are my own, and probably thanks to the tequila tbh)

a/n || I got progressively more drunk as I wrote this, so... enjoy!

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You have no idea how long Din has had you like this - pinned beneath the heft of his body, your thighs shaking as his fingers and tongue coax yet another orgasm from you. He moans against you as he feels it hit. Your back arches, your nails dig into his scalp, and you cry his name so sweetly he damn near finishes right then and there. It feels like you’re floating, your body and soul detached under his talented touch. He doesn’t stop until you push his head away. Even then, he just occupies his mouth by trailing wet, sloppy kisses along your thigh. Goosebumps follow the brush of his stubble. 

Those dark eyes stare up at you, his pupils dilated as he takes in the vision you make beneath him. He can’t get enough of you. It’s been too long - damn near a week without those soft words and sweet touches he has grown so addicted to. It was stupid, a silly argument about a bounty of all things. Din knew almost immediately that he was in the wrong. Pride caught the apology he owed you between his teeth. 

None of that matters, now. Not when he’s searing his repentance into your body with every touch. 

“Have you forgiven me yet?” He asks before he presses a kiss to your navel. You hum a contemplative sound as he works his way up your body. The air is thick with the scent of sex, something he’s missed more than he realized. Your skin shimmers with sweat and Din just can’t stop himself. The flat of his tongue drags up your sternum. He just can’t get enough of your taste, even as you squirm beneath him. 

“I think you’re getting there.” You finally sigh, wrapping your arms around his shoulder and pulling his body flush against yours. The closeness settles that restless, agitated animal that has paced in his chest all week. Din leans closer, his arms bracketing your head, and he kisses you. It’s soft and sweet despite the way his cock throbs against your thigh. Your warmth soaks into him, bare skin against bare skin. As your hands cup his face, only one thought runs through his head. 

The only place in the universe he truly belongs to is in your arms. 

“Mmm…” You hum against his lips. “Definitely getting there.” 

Din can’t help but chuckle at that cheeky stubbornness he’s come to love. He drags his lips across your throat, reveling in the way your sass melts into a heady sigh. Your hands skirt down the planes of his back and settle on his ass with a playful squeeze. 

“C’mon, Djarin.” There’s an edge of demand in your tone, a little desperation. “Show me how sorry you really are.” 

That’s all it takes for him to sink into you with one devastating roll of his hips. All words slip away at the feeling of your cunt pulsing around him. Din presses you into the soft mattress, pinned beneath his full weight as if to keep you there forever. As if you would ever dream of going anywhere. The pace he sets is slow, a steady rock of his hips that leaves you wrecked beneath him. Your nails dig into his back, pulling him impossibly closer. 

“I’ve got you,” The whisper is soaked in affection and longing, a promise he always intends to keep. Din presses his forehead against yours, his dark eyes wide as he greedily consumes the sight of you. So pliant and vulnerable, consumed by the feeling only he can pull from you. 

Your eyes flutter and roll as he arches his hips just so, dragging against that sensitive spot until you shake. The angle lets him grind against your clit. He doesn’t let up, far too insatiable for the feeling of you falling apart under his touch. You’re so sensitive, so responsive to everything he gives you. Every sweet sound he pulls from you only makes him want more. It drives him fucking wild. 

“Don’t stop,” Your whispered plea slithers down his spine and pools in his belly, pure warmth and need searing into his very DNA. He has to bury his face in your neck. The way you look, all strung out and cockdrunk, threatens to end this far too soon. Your fingers dig into his hair as he works you closer to another devastating orgasm. “Oh, fuck -” 

A broken growl rips from his chest as you fall apart for him. He swears this is the closest he’ll ever get to nirvana in this damned life - the sound of you crying out his name, the wet gush of your cunt wetting his thighs, the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him. He follows after you only a beat after. His teeth dig into your shoulder as he buries himself to the hilt, stuffing you full of his cock as he spills inside you. 

The air fills with the sound of heavy breathing as you both come down, your bodies still entwined with one another. An atmosphere of peace settles around you like a thick, warm blanket. The way he melts into you only adds to that feeling. It’s impossible to tell just how long the two of you stay like this - so wrapped up in each other that you can’t tell who begins where. Neither of you wants to break that peace. His lips find that sweet spot over your pulse.

“I am sorry, cyare.” Din murmurs between short, sweet kisses. “Truly.” 

“I know.” You whisper. Your fingers drag through his messy mop of curls, scratching his scalp until he turns into a purring beast above you. “I forgive you.”

[alloftheimagines]

joel miller | left behind

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 2.9k

warnings: angst, angst, angst. so much angst. ep two spoilers. tess's death. grief. loss. infected stuff. reader is tess's younger sister. age gap. more angst. so much angst. slightly violent reader.

synopsis: in which joel honours a promise he made to tess that means he must force reader to leave your infected sister behind in boston. resentment and a bit of hurt/comfort ensues as you head to frank and bill's.

sibling!tess x reader, reader x joel, little bit of reader x ellie

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

“Holy shit. She’s infected.”

You didn’t think the world could fall apart twice, but you look at Tess as Ellie's words settle in and realise you were wrong. Here you are again, losing everything. This time, you don’t know if you can survive. 

“Tess…” you whisper, shaking your head slowly. “No. No. No.” 

Beside you, Joel is deadly still. He looks at your sister with such detachment that you want to scream. This is Tess. Fucking Tess. 

But you know him. You know he’s good at switching off when things get tough. Not like you. You wear your heart on your damn sleeve, and you can’t fucking do this. You look at her again, heart breaking. You feel every tear, every shard slipping through your ribcage. Tess is motionless — resigned. She wears sadness, but no fear. None anybody but you can see, anyway. You grew up with her. You can see the fading light in her eyes in a way the others won’t. 

And you don’t know what to do.

“Let me see it,” Joel orders quietly.

“Joel…” Tess pleads. 

“Show me,” he growls. 

Bitterly, she tears down the collar of her shirt, revealing the infection blossoming across bruised veins. Your knees threaten to buckle, nausea rising in your throat. 

“No.” Tears slip down your cheeks, and you’re already searching the room again for some hint the Fireflies might have left, some sign that it won’t end like this. “No. The girl is a cure. If we can just—”

Tess is saying your name. You’re not listening. If you listen, it will be real. If you listen, you will have to say goodbye to the only family you have left. 

“Joel,” she’s saying now. “This kid… this kid is real, okay? You gotta get her, get them both, to Tommy’s. He’ll know where to go, what to do.”

“No. No, I’m not doing that,” he replies. 

You’re still rattling around, searching old papers and nooks for something, anything; as though you’ll find a miracle in the shadows. 

“If not for the kid then for her.” Tess’s voice rises. You squeeze your eyes shut, your back turned to her. “She needs you, Joel. This is the end of the road for me, but you need to keep going. Promise me."

“I’m not leaving you here!” you shout, throwing the first thing you find against the wall. It smashes to dust. “We’ll find a way out of this, Tess. We always fucking do. Let’s just stop and figure it out!” 

“There is no figuring it out.” Tess marches over to you, gripping your face in her hands. You try so hard to fight it, so hard to stay in denial, but you look at her drawn face and know she’s already half-gone. You know the worry furrowing her brows isn’t for herself, but for you. For what will happen to you now. She practically raised you, toughening you up or else cradling you through the bad nights, never any in between. It made you both strong and so unbearably weak. Not like Joel, who has never let anything touch him. 

You choke on a sob and close your eyes. “Please, Tess. Please. This can’t be it. I need you.”

“I need you. I need you to be safe. I need you to keep going. Please, sweetheart.” She softens, brushing the tears from your eyes. “Please. For me.”

“No—” 

The sound of moans and the shuffling of uneven footsteps interrupt your protest. Joel goes to the window and curses, readying his gun. “Infected. Shit tonne of ‘em. We gotta go.”

You grab Tess’s wrist without thinking. “Come on.”

But she slips out of your grasp, stepping away from all of you. Ellie has tears in her eyes, but she says nothing, looking for the first time not to Tess or Joel, but to you. 

“I can buy you some time, but you have to run. You have to go,” Tess whispers. 

You shake your head again, ferociously this time. “No. No, I’m not leaving. If you stay, I stay.”

She snaps her head away. “Joel. Get her out of here.”

You fight back a bitter scoff, fists curling at your sides — but then hands lock around your arms, nudging you away. “Come on," Joel grunts. "We have to go. Now.”

The betrayal stings. This is fucking Tess. Of all people, he should want to help her. He shouldn’t be giving up on her. 

You snarl, “Fuck you if you think I’m going anywhere!” 

He doesn’t let up, face carved from stone. “We can’t stay,” he hisses, ducking his head to meet your eye. “You want us all to die?” 

“You go! I’m not—”

“Now, Joel!” Tess is yelling. “Get her the fuck out of here now!”

He swears under his breath again and then his arms are like a vice around your waist, your feet lifting from the floor as he drags you away, kicking and screaming. 

“No!” You’re shrieking now, vocal cords ripping apart as you try to reach for your sister. "Tess!"

But she doesn’t reach back. She turns away, and you know with certainty it’s the last time you’ll see her face. 

“Tess, please!” Sobs erupt from you, and you fight harder now, but Joel is too strong, too broad, too heavy-handed to let you go. “Please! Please! Let me go! Let me stay with her! She's my fucking sister, Joel!” 

The fresh air hits you all at once. One moment you’re there, watching your sister get smaller and smaller as infected scratch and rattle the doors, and then you’re back in the rubble of the drab city, the gold dome of Massachusetts State House dwindling. 

And then exploding.

As your feet finally hit the floor and you try to nudge Joel away, the earth cracks with black smoke and you’re thrown to the ground. Joel’s warmth shields you, and you feel Ellie trembling at your side. 

Silence blankets you like ash. It takes a moment for your brain to comprehend it. Any of it. 

You shove Joel to look back at the State House. The building that is no longer a building, just debris and fire. 

The building where your sister was standing not a moment ago. 

“No.” You say the word differently now. Softer. Devastation pierces through it, through you. She’s gone. Tess is gone. 

“Darlin’...” Joel puts his hand on your shoulder and squeezes, and fury sparks through you. 

“You did this!” you scream, hitting his chest again, and again and again. “You took away my choice!” Because the truth is, you would sooner have died in there with Tess than carry on without her. “You took away my fucking sister!” Because he’d gotten her into the jobs, the smuggling. He’d done all of this. 

Joel doesn’t react, barely even budging as you slam into him. His jaw is set, trembling, throat bobbing, and finally he catches your hands and locks his fingers around your wrists. “Look at me.” 

You can’t. You can’t look at him, or anywhere else. You want to vomit. You want to disappear. 

Instead, your chin wobbles and your ribcage opens up and everything pours out of you as you wail. 

He catches you as you sink to the ground, pulling you to his chest, and you’re too weak to push him away now. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your hair, rocking you gently. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, sweetheart. There was nothing else we could do. Nothing else I could do. But look at me. Please look at me.” He grips your jaw just as Tess had, and you flinch. You hate him. You fist his shirt between your fingers and you want to destroy it, destroy everything around him. 

Except you don’t. He’s all you have left, and the realisation makes you numb. Joel fucking Miller is the only goddamn person you have. 

You do as he asks. You look at him. 

“She bought us time," he says. "We can’t waste it now. Do you understand? We can grieve her later, but right now, we gotta go. We have to get up and keep going. For Tess.”

You hate that he’s right most of all. As you begin to shut down, shock taking over, you look back at the smoking State House and stand. And then you clutch Joel’s collar and bare your teeth. 

Ellie stumbles towards you, eyes round with fear, but you’ve lost the will to care about her presence. You’ve lost everything today.

“Don’t you fucking say her name again,” you snap. “You lost that right. I blame you. I blame you for who she became, who we’ve all become.”

Anguish curls across Joel’s features, but you refuse to feel guilty. You let him go roughly and grab your backpack off the floor, the same one you’d clutched during the outbreak just after you’d watched your parents get savaged by your infected neighbours, Tess dragging you to safety. You’d been thirteen years old, and your sister had gotten you through hell and back, that night and every other one that came after. 

“It shouldn’t have ended like this,” you whisper into the wind, swallowing your own tears. 

It’s the last moment you allow yourself to have, and then you wipe your damp cheeks and glare down at Joel again. 

“Get up. Let’s go.”

He does, looking winded as he rises from his knees to his feet. You allow him to lead the way only because he knows the city, knows his way around, far better than you did. Tess rarely let you do jobs out of the QZ, protective until the bitter fucking end. 

You wish more than anything you could have protected her. 

***

You don’t get the chance to catch your breath again until you get to Bill and Frank’s — which is empty. You never met them yourself, but you know Tess warmed to them, so to find them dead too… it feels like the last piece of good in the world is truly gone. You slump onto their couch still wrapped in numbness as Joel and Ellie gather supplies, reluctant to so much as look at you. Later, you hear them talking about showering, and Ellie thumps up the stairs, leaving the place quiet. You should wash, too. You should eat, drink, prepare for whatever comes next, but you can’t move. Can’t do anything. 

After minutes, or perhaps hours, of silence, Joel kneels in front of you with a plate of food. “You need to eat, darlin'. I know it’s hard, but you have to.”

You hate him calling you that. He never used to call you that. He barely addressed you at all, stubborn, grumpy old man he is. But he’s been family for a long time, and the three of you… 

You got by together. Until now. 

You glance down at the food and your stomach turns. 

“Please,” he whispers, voice cracking. It surprises you, that vulnerability bleeding into his words — and it seems to surprise him too, by the look on his face. You’ve never seen him like this. Not once. 

You take a bite for that alone. It’s dry in your mouth, and you find it hard to swallow, so you push the rest away. He sighs and puts it down on the coffee table, swapping the plate for his flask. You take a swig, whiskey burning like vinegar in your throat. 

“If I talk,” he asks, “will you listen?”

“No,” you answer honestly. “No, I don’t feel much like listenin’, Joel.”

Still, he takes your hand. You glare at your intertwined fingers but make no move to pull away. Perhaps part of you still needs to be coddled, taken care of the way Tess might have.

And maybe you need to know you’re not alone. That he isn’t going to give up on you the way he so easily did with Tess. Which is sick, you know, but you’ve never much been able to help the way you feel about him. The way you have always wanted to peel away his layers and understand him. Tear away his self-hatred, guilt, grief, for whatever horrors he faced before. 

“I didn’t want this. Not for Tess and sure as hell not for you.”

“I told you,” you bit. “I told you not to say her name.”

“I made a promise to her a long time ago.” He continued as though you hadn’t spoken, his brown eyes pleading. “I promised that if something happened to her, I would always protect you. That’s what I did today. I was honouring that promise, and honouring your sister. If you need someone to blame, someone to hate, if that makes it easier, go ahead. But don’t think for a second that this was a choice I wanted to make. I cared about her. I care about you. And even if I have to drag you kickin’ and screamin’, I’m getting you to Wyoming, to Tommy. You and I still have a job to do.” Slowly, as though unsure how you’ll react, he tucks your hair behind your ear. “That kid needs us, but we need her a hell of a lot more if the cure is real. And I… I need you. I need you here with me, safe. I ain’t losing another…”

He bows his head, words thickening.  “I ain’t going back on my promise to Tess, so you can make it difficult as you like. You can never lay your damn eyes on me again. But I’m getting you through this.”

A tear drips down your cheek, your entire body trembling as the sorrow, the grief, finally takes over. 

“Oh, baby,” Joel whispers, voice full of the same loss, the same pain. 

A whimper escapes you as you put your head in your hands. You can’t even hate him now, because you can imagine your martyr of a sister asking Joel to do just that. To protect you above all else. Still, you despise it — despise that your choices were taken away, your voice ignored. 

“I should have been with her,” you say. “She shouldn’t have died alone.”

“She died knowing you were being taken care of.” He squeezes your knee with rough hands. “She died knowing she saved us. It’s the best anyone could’a done. I wish it could have been different.”

“I don’t know how to do this without her,” you admit, because how can you keep it all in? All the love you had for her, all that grief… where will you put it when it’s spilling out of you without warning? 

“That’s something we’ll figure out,” Joel responds. He’s drawing circles into your lower thigh now, the pad of his thumb wearing down your denim jeans slowly. Wearing you down slowly. “You should take a shower then see about finishing your food. That hot water… it’ll help. And I won��t be mad if you use it all before I get my turn.” He offers you a small smile.

But you can’t imagine anything ever helping. You close your eyes, sinking back into the couch. “In a minute. I just need…” You don’t know what you need. If you’re being honest, you need Tess. 

As though knowing it, Joel rises, the couch cushions dipping with his weight beside you. He lets out a soft sigh, fidgeting with his fingers. You feel the weight of his gaze on the side of your face. 

A moment later, he’s draping a blanket over you, and your lids flutter open again in confusion. 

“S’okay,” Joel says. “Get some rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

You don’t need to be told twice. But when you try to nod off, you only see Tess burned on the inside of your eyelids. Her face the last time you saw it. The bite. Her pleas for you to go.

You give up quickly, aware Joel is still beside you, unmoving. It isn’t like him to not be moving. 

Rubbing your face, you sit up, pushing the blanket off. “Joel…”

“Hmm?”

“Blaming you... it doesn't make it fucking easier. I understand why you did what you did, even if I don’t like it. But if you ever take away my choice again… I won’t go on with you. I can’t. I know you and Tess still see me… saw me,” you correct with a wince, “as a kid, but I’m not. Not anymore. And I sure as hell ain’t your responsibility.”

“I don’t see you as a kid,” he says quietly. “And I don’t see you as my responsibility, either. Honestly?” He purses his lips, tapping on the arm of the couch before he continues, “I see you as the only damn thing worth going out of my way to protect. Make of that what you will. Just… don’t expect me to let you die if that’s your choice. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. I won’t apologise for it, either.”

You’re not sure what to say to that; what it means. Why Joel, of all people, is the one to say it. You always thought he and Tess… 

“Why? That promise mean so fucking much?”

“Yeah." He looks at you as though for the first time. "Yeah, it does."

You don’t have the energy to wonder what it means anymore. Instead, you pull yourself up on unsteady feet. Your mind is racing, and that shower is sounding better as reality sets in. Just in time, Ellie returns with damp hair and fresh clothes. She offers a small, reassuring smile, and you ruffle her hair, feeling guilty that a fourteen-year-old was subjected to everything you went through in Boston. Whoever she is, whatever purpose people want her to serve… she’s just a kid, and you couldn’t hold it together for her today. That makes you a shitty chaperone.

“My turn,” you mumble, glancing at Joel a final, wary time before heading upstairs. His expression doesn’t change, but you see something new in it now. Something strange. 

Something that looks an awful lot like care.

[space-apples]

i buried my teeth in everything good

hi chatters sorry for dying. thanking @dakedo0o @loveroped @angeart and @sunieraes for beta-ing i appreciate you <3

here it is on AO3 x

and if you want to read it here you can do that !!

He’s succeeded his task, and the wind was faintly blowing in his ear, almost sounding like laughter.

He’s succeeded his task, and the sun was just peeking over the mountains. He didn’t even realize he’d gone the whole night without a blink. 

He’s succeeded his task, and the cold air was gnawing against his skin. He could hardly care anymore. 

Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life. Win Secret Life.

He was drowning now, and felt the familiar sense of life being drained from him before arriving back at the Secret Keeper. He stared at it coldly (everything was cold.)

A skeleton was somewhere in the distance. It was shooting at him, but Scar couldn’t be bothered to care. The arrows buried themselves into his skin, but as he bled and whatever remaining life source once again drained out of him, Scar didn’t recognize the pain as much as he should have. All he really felt was numbness, a fucked up sense of relief. He closed his eyes, exhaling softly, wishing, hoping, praying for release.

If he died now, he would be gone. He would be free. 

Of course the Gods above cared too much about their entertainment to let him go. So when he opened his eyes, the arrows were gone. The only mark left that showed they were ever there were the scars. More to add to the collection, he supposed, bitterly staring up at the Secret Keeper statue. 

Scar wanted to scream at it, to get TNT and blow the stupid thing to dust and rubble. 

He pressed the button once more, wildly, angrily, and cursing so much that a sailor would cringe away. 

Win Secret Life, it said. As always. He did win. As always. 

Pressing the button over and over again wouldn’t do anything, but he did anyway, something in him snapping. Only getting more desperate and upset with each hit as it gave him more and more books. He didn’t care that his hand was getting splintered, that a nasty bruise was starting to form, that he felt it breaking. He didn’t care. He couldn’t care about anything anymore, he couldn’t focus on caring. Scar just wanted to go home. 

He didn’t even realize when he started rapidly hitting the stone instead, putting so much weight and force into his attacks that the button had broken. When he paused long enough to realize, he swore he couldn’t feel himself breathing anymore. The books were splattered around, his hand was bloodied, and his legs crumbled from underneath him. 

Scar prided himself on being resilient, only crying once or twice after a Life Game. But seeing his own blood on a half beaten rock where the button should have been, feeling the cold air biting at his skin, the awareness that he was irrefutably alone, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to do anything in order to go home, shattered any resolve he so wished to keep. 

His hands didn’t seem like his as he laid them, shakily, gently, carefully, on pedestal once more. His whole body shook, wracked with impending doom. He was sobbing, he realized, though the tears never seemed real. None of this seemed real. He couldn’t breathe through it, and some sick part of him hoped that it would continue, that his body would finally collapse and allow him to be detached from this world. 

But maybe he deserved this. 

Maybe with how many people he killed, how many people he made suffer, this was his punishment. A permanent loop, a permanent limbo, forever cursed to be alone. 

Maybe that was the reason for his time here; showing that his destiny, his purpose, his fate, was to be on his own. Where he grew up, it wasn’t exactly an option to talk with other people, and perhaps he got too comfortable in Hermitcraft. Last Life should have been his reminder, his push in the right direction, but he wanted the interaction. The comfort of being near someone was too tempting to turn down. Yet the bite of cold he felt constantly growing up in the apocalypse, it was the same he felt on that horrible mountain in Last Life. It was the same he felt now. He couldn’t escape it, no matter how many blankets or campfires he had, just like how he wouldn’t ever be able to be relieved of the crippling isolation that threatened to overflow and drown him. 

He didn’t know when time started to blur even more, he didn’t know when he started to feel so numb that it felt like he couldn’t move his legs. He couldn’t care for it. He wasn’t sure if he was capable of doing just that. The sun was blaring, it might have stung to look at, yet he just kept staring upward, blankly. There wasn’t much else he could do, anyways. He broke the button. He probably broke his hand too, but he was floating too much to really register it.

He didn’t notice when his legs became anchored to the ground. The hope that the possibility of his opponents (they were friends, they were friends, they were friends) cared enough to come back, to check in on him, was of course foolish. They wouldn’t. It should have bothered him more, and maybe some part of him was uneasy. But a bigger part of him was tired. 

Now, his legs didn’t just feel heavy, they felt like stone. 

And that’s when he noticed he couldn’t sit up. That everything was so much colder. That he was so much more aware of the world. He could make out every grass blade being eaten by grazing animals, the fish wading through the waters, and he didn't even flinch at the desperate snarling of the Undead– the zombies. They were hungry, ravenous, and all he could really do was shift his energy away from it. 

He still felt like he was being stared at, yet he couldn’t detect the stare of the Secret Keeper anymore. It bothered him in the back of his mind. In the dark corners, it felt more than simply wrong. His eyes felt sluggish, but somehow he knew he wouldn’t be able to close them. Now he had to watch, to feel more than the ground below him, the suffocating air around him. It was dark. It was bright. It was hot, but so so so cold. 

All he could do was stare into the sky, watching the sun reach into his peripherals and watch it fade away into a cold night, stars tracing each speck of his vision. It should have been the only thing he saw. He didn’t know how he saw everything. But the statue wasn’t there anymore, it wasn’t watching along beside him. 

He tried to regard it as a good thing. That he didn’t have to feel that prying stare bear into him. But all he could think was that he was now those intrusive, intense, invading eyes. It wasn’t that it was gone, it was that he took its place. He didn’t know if shattering that stupid button was the cause, but he didn’t even mean to break it. He had just wanted to go home.

He can’t even think of how he’d do that now. He barely remembers the faces of his opponents. No, no, they were his friends. Yes, his friends. He couldn’t remember the faces of his friends. They were all muddled and blurry, just like the memories of their time together, hardly resurfacing when he tried to remember. He remembers a boat pole? Bluebells— no, that wasn’t right. He couldn’t frame it correctly, but akin to. A flower of sorts, poisonous to something. He remembers vague things about vexes, though they were just a– a mob with no real significance. He can’t quite... God, why can’t he remember. They were his friends, he said it himself, they were kind and funny and. He wished he could remember more about them other than their bloodshed, than their violence. There were pieces he was missing.

(He misses them. He needs them. He doesn’t know why he’s here, why he’s had to isolate and disconnect from everyone he knew for the sake of Watching. But it isn’t his job to question it, if he could even do such a thing. At least not anymore.)

Time passed on, he knows it’s passed on. There’s little, in this world at least, he doesn’t know at this point. But as far as the people who are gone, the people he killed, he doesn’t know where they are now. How long it’s been for them. He knows there’s not much he can do about it. There’s not much they can do to save him. He thought, he hoped, the numbness was back.

He didn’t know how much he even felt anymore, he wasn’t sure he was capable of feeling. So why, why, is there so much dread in the pits of his stomach. Why is there nausea building in his body, his head throbbing with a migraine. Why did his fear come back all at once, his disquiet of being so utterly alone solitary abandoned abandoned abandoned being seemingly worse than before. It’s not like it ever left, but if it did, it came back stronger than it ever was prior. He didn’t mind being numb, really. He half-heartedly wished for it back. He vaguely realized in his mind he won’t be going home anymore. And this wasn’t at all what he wanted. To be trapped in a never ending loop of pain and pressing buttons was hardly on anyone’s bucket list. He didn't even know what he wanted now, other than to simply rest. 

Though now he figured this was why he was here. Why wouldn’t they want someone already contiguous to not one soul— someone so bloodthirsty— in their grasp. Playing their sick games until he could only regurgitate futile means of escaping. Watching for them. Commanding for them. Succeeding for them. Maybe he should have felt horrified at the prospect, and maybe he did, but if it wasn’t at the forefront, he could hardly be expected to feel anything other than that flooding sense of numbness. Maybe he didn’t want to be here. Maybe he did. It didn’t matter now. He had a job to do. 

He succeeded his task, and it was then he noticed the button on the stone pedestal was back. It was nicer than the old one. Engraved in markings he recognized. It was the traditional Elven designs that coiled around harsh stone, though he could already feel the connection to his identity fading away.

He succeeded his task, and yet when he tried to reach out for it, he couldn’t move his hand anymore.

He succeeded his task, and now he’d be making sure when others came along, they’d succeed too. 

He could vaguely remember that he was Scar, but even that was fading from his mind. Now he was the keeper, the beholder, the Successor of the thing that was here before.

.

. 

. 

.

.

They had no idea how long they were trapped in there. They tried to glance around, and though they could technically see, they couldn’t See, not how they were used to. They didn’t wish for it back. Or perhaps they did. But the harsh transition made it difficult to look around at all.

They knew they were not envious of their replacement— though it was still hard to grasp that they could feel, really feel again. The sensations latched onto them like they'd always been there; like it was coming home— but they couldn’t remember anything to match it, or anything at all. It had been too overwhelming to have so many of them, to notice and detect sensations other than stone and that icy cold that swallowed them whole.

 It had been far too long to even remember their name. They were trying awfully hard as well, to remember the identity they had left behind. Before all the buttons, before all the colored names and hopeless faces showed, before all the cravings of violence just to get a sick taste of what being angry meant. They had a life, surely. 

They looked down at their new body. This one couldn’t have been their old one– Staring into the reflection they remembered the face of their Successor, eyes still red and running rampant on Red Life urges. They weren’t in that world, and yet. They wondered if the bloodshed would ever stop.

 It was rather warm here, they noticed, but for some reason they could still sense that bite of cold they felt as the Keeper. 

They didn’t quite know where they were, but they could hear someone approaching. They almost expected a button to be pressed, for them to make a request. Of course that didn’t happen here, and instead a voice called out. 

Excited, concerned, afraid, afraid, afraid—

“Scar, oh my god.” The person, upon seeing them, ran over much faster than they had expected. And to their own surprise, they recognized their– her– voice. She was hard to forget, really, because admittedly, she was one of their favorites. The Newbie, the first to truly find the End in their domain. (Their old domain. It wasn’t theirs anymore.) One with such promise, such potential. Of course now they’re rather glad she didn’t win. “Scar, where have you been?”

They forgot they were in place of the Successor, they forgot that was even his name. They tried to open their mouth to respond, but it turns out after spending what felt like centuries with their mouth made of literal stone, it was a bit harder to get words out. They were sure it’d be raspy anyway, from the misuse.

They remembered her name now, and vague recollections of Scar’s memories came back from when they Saw him. Her name was Gem. 

Gem frowned at his silence, and Scar– not Scar, they’re not Scar– tensed, worried that they’d already be found out within five seconds. 

“I won’t– I won’t push you into talking, Scar,” she said, to their surprise. She surveyed them with such concern that it made them discern… something. Guilt? Embarrassment? She continued, spurred on by them remaining silent. “It’s just– you’ve been gone for almost, uh, two months now. I think.”

They didn’t have to pretend to shudder at the time frame. 

It had been way longer than just two months.

Honestly, they really did try getting their mouth open to speak, to demand, but all they could manage were raspy grunts. Gem winced, yet kept her relatively calm demeanor. 

“It’s okay, I don’t want to force you.” She reaches over slowly, maybe so that if they wanted to back away, they would. They didn’t. It could have been because moving was so unknown, unfamiliar. Or because they regarded Gem as more than just trustworthy; as safe.

The touch burned before it felt like a regular mortal being was actually holding them. She gently encouraged them to move forward, for them to follow her, a smile now plastered on her face. 

 “Come on, Scar, let’s get you home, yea?” 

Home. 

In their last moments before the Successor took over, they remembered his last thoughts were wistfully praying that he’d be let go. Back to wherever here was, where they could pretend his past was long gone and have fun and play— not dangerous— games. Where they could have just a little company. 

The memory made them feel like something was twisting in their gut, their throat closing up with such a tightness it felt like they were forgetting how to breathe. They didn’t remember what that feeling was. But they needed to get rid of it, and Gem’s words were so warm, such a drastic change from the icy wind clawing at each part of them, threatening to freeze them over. 

Gem’s offer didn’t seem to hold the same malice, but when they tried to see into it, see her intentions, they were swiftly reminded their abilities were no longer with them. The similar sensation in their gut came back, and it screamed and yelled at them to run, to get far away. Logically, though, if they were to run, Gem would most likely catch them a lot easier than they’d like to admit. They were not used to having legs that— more or less— work. And if she wanted to kill them she would have already done so. 

So they nod, following her carefully after she takes her hand off their shoulder. She let go, and it still felt like it was there, still felt like it was burning, still felt like it was there to keep it burning. Gem’s touch wasn’t bad, at least they didn’t think so. They hadn’t had any contact with anyone or anything for so long, and perhaps that was why it felt so sudden. So much. They tried to trail behind her as best they could, only becoming more overwhelmed with each step. 

They’re not familiar with so much of this, so many textures, so many potential people around, so many so many so many—

It wasn’t her fault, really. 

She just kept leading on, adding little comments here and there. It was hard to keep paying attention to her when she wasn’t the only one making noise. Grass crunched from underneath them, water was crashing a little while away, Gem’s armor was rattling against itself with every step, there were probably people in the distance, not bothering to keep their voices down. 

Their vision got blurry after a while, their legs felt like mush. They didn’t think it had been that long, though that didn’t make them feel better. They could barely make out Gem’s face, her antlers being the only thing that they could really see. 

Everything was spinning around them, going too fast. Or it could have been that they were going too slow. It hurt to keep their eyes open, but the worry that if they closed them now, the worry it’ll be like before made them try so very hard to not blink.

And despite their best efforts, they felt the impact of hitting the ground before anything else.

And despite themself, they knew their eyes were rolling back into their head. 

At least it wasn’t everything all at once, but now it was— once again— nothing. 

.

.

.

.

They woke up, not expecting to be able to feel the softness of whatever they were laying on. They were laying down as well, a position they hadn’t been able to be in before. Though they half expected to be frozen like that, it was certainly a lot more comfortable now than it used to be. They didn’t try to move, at least not for a while, unsure they even could. 

They were talking about them. Not them. Well, maybe it was them technically, but it was still about Scar. The Scar they knew.

“—Just overwhelmed, maybe,” a voice— they could recognize once more as Gem— said, most likely contributing to a conversation that had already started. “I don’t know. He’s been gone for months.”

“Oh, trust me, I’m aware, Gem.” 

Grian. That voice belonged to Grian. They didn’t have the same excitement towards the man as maybe some of the Others did. They didn’t want to like Grian, and as much as They tried to make them favor him, they had leaned towards Gem. 

They thought she’d be smart enough to figure it out. Clearly, they had thought wrong.

They still weren’t moving, afraid to even try, and instead waded through the waters of their mind, through every crevice of newfound sensations, newfound thoughts. It still felt they weren’t their own, as if they were still rifling through someone else’s head. 

They couldn’t tell if they still felt like it was burning, and they were once again worried they were back there again because even with however many sensations their body may have been experiencing, it still felt so far away. 

They realized they were shaking. 

Which was good, they thought. Good that they could move, at least. They couldn’t think much of anything else when trying to refocus on Gem and Grian, whose voices had become slightly raised. 

“That’s not what I meant,” she huffed, inhaling sharply. “I am glad he’s back, I was just— concerned.”

“We all had this after the first Death Game, Gem. Scar shouldn’t feel more violent than, you know, he usually is.”

“But his eyes— even if they weren’t red— they were so empty.”

“Winning a game can be a lot. And Scar was by himself that whole time, even before his, uh, extended hiatus. I think we both know that Scar being alone isn't his favorite thing in the world.” 

“You— Okay, I can see that. I mean I think the Death Games can be a lot for anyone, just on its own. But sure.” She let out a long sigh, as if she hadn’t taken a breath throughout that entire conversation. “I care about him too, Grian. It’s not just you.”

They were both silent for a moment, and for a small second, they thought they had walked away. That was until Grian spoke.

“I know.” His voice was so soft, almost a whisper. “I know. I just— Let’s just make sure to make something fun for when he wakes up. Or at least a cup of water.”

Gem lets out a hum of agreement, and they can’t help but feel that pain in their chest. One that seems bad at first, yet seems to feel more comforting. Even as they hear the door being opened and closed, it remains.

It’s a feeling that, although they barely remembered anything, they know they craved and strived to have it. The feeling of being cared for, of knowing that you’re cared for. 

It was ridiculous, especially as they weren’t even Scar. It was only a matter of time before they found out, before they kicked them right back out for very justifiable reasons. And yet it was hard to deny the temptation of staying, just to feel wanted for even a little while. To have a connection with a real person, a real being. They know it won’t last, as things usually do, but they didn’t see why they couldn't savor this. 

It’s not theirs to savor, they know this. But there’s no one else to provide that connection to them anymore. Even if there was, they don’t remember. It’s frustrating how much they don’t remember, how much they remember about Scar more than they remember about themself. 

They knew they should say something, but the thought of being cast aside was enough to replace the feeling in their chest with a much heavier weight. 

They knew they weren’t Scar, but for now, they could pretend. 

They knew they would be forced to leave eventually, but for now, just for now, they could stay.

[elicathebunny]

DON'T LET THOSE TYPES OF PEOPLE GET IN THE WAY OF YOUR SUCCESS.

STEPS TO DETACHMENT AND MOVING IN SILENCE.

Let them be who they are, let them stay where they are, let them think what they think. But remember this, what you are planning is something they could never achieve. Pull through in the new year and do the things you've put aside and neglected so that when you can reflect on what you've accomplished, you can tick off the majority. Embarrassment and shame are real, I understand that. I also go through moments where I'm haunted by the same "embarrassing" memory. But now is when we can both change, we can choose to let go of those daunting memories and live our lives to the fullest. We may have goals that the person next to us could laugh at, but imagine how good it would feel to be doubted at first and then proving them wrong later. Staying strong is difficult, especially if you have wavering faith in your beliefs and actions, and if that's the case, that's exactly what you are going to work on.

1) HAVING A BELIEF

Having a belief in something will help you in your confidence exponentially. Whether that is in God, having a strong self-concept or in the universe.

Having faith in something gives you a dependable foundation, offers guidance, and keeps you grounded. Having a belief will also replace the desire for validation from others around you since having that validation will conflict with said belief.

2) HAVING A PLAN

Having a plan will also help your confidence. When others doubt your aspirations, you will only doubt yourself if you feel like you can't achieve them. But if you have a plan, you have no reason to doubt yourself because you know what it will take to achieve your goals, you will know the steps to go through to make your dreams a reality. This will bring reassurance, which will result in boosted self-esteem.

3) DON'T TAKE ANYTHING PERSONAL

Understand that not everyone will be fond of you, and it's impossible to win everyone over. ("A friend to all is a friend to none" - Aristotle.)

People will act out of jealousy when they see you better yourself, gradually surpassing them. Perhaps they're feeling jealous because you excel in something they don't, or they envy you for achieving what they couldn't. If you take this personally, it means they have succeeded in bringing you down to stay on their level or even below it. If people criticize you for pursuing your goals, take it as a sign that you're on the right track. As you achieve more success, more people may start hoping for your downfall. Beware of these types of people, some may even be the ones closest to you (monitoring spirits.)

4) DETACHING AND PERSERVERING THROUGH

Practice mindfulness to stay present and detach from overwhelming thoughts. Meditation can help you observe your thoughts without getting entangled in them. Allocate specific times each day for your worries to surface freely. This prevents them from dominating your entire day. For instance, during a bath, take the time to thoroughly reflect on the day, welcoming both negative and positive thoughts. Allow yourself to fully experience those moments. Once they've passed, release and journal the thoughts and feelings that came up.

Understand that you can't control everything. People will think what they want, and realising you can't control their thoughts is the first step to detaching. Release the grip on issues beyond your reach, and it'll free up your mind. Focus on what you can change, and you'll gain a lot of mental clarity.

Persevering is fueled by determination and desire. If you come out publically with your aspirations and back down, then it gives people more things to laugh at. Let them laugh until they become silenced by your achievements. Let that statement discipline you.

5) MOVING IN SILENCE

Moving in silence involves taking intentional actions without announcing them to the world. If you fear that others may sway you with their words or that you may back down easily, move in silence. Don't tell a soul about your plans and goals. The less people know, the less that can be used against you. Only tell those who you are certain will be your support system.

Set Clear Goals: Define your objectives clearly. Having a roadmap for yourself will guide your actions.

Stay Focused: Concentrate on your work and avoid unnecessary distractions. Maintain a laser focus on your goals.

Work Consistently: Take consistent, daily actions toward your goals. Small, regular efforts can lead to significant achievements over time.

Avoid Unnecessary Attention: Minimise sharing every detail of your journey on social media or with everyone. Keep some aspects private.

Build a Support System: Share your aspirations with a select few who genuinely support you. Their encouragement can be invaluable.

Let Success Speak: Instead of talking about your plans, let your achievements speak for themselves. People will notice your results.

Learn Quietly: Acquire new skills or knowledge discreetly. You don't always need to announce your learning process.

Embrace Patience: Moving in silence requires patience. Success often takes time, and it's okay if results aren't immediate.

Embody your potential.

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

pairings: platonic childhood best friends! Sunoo, Wooyoung, and Felix x reader, nephew!Niki, oc!niece

genre: sitcom esque au, fluff, sliiiigghhhtt hurt/comfort, comfort fic

warnings: none really

summary: y/n's whole life got derailed when her sister’s passing leaves her as her niece and nephew's legal guardian, if it weren't for her three childhood friends: Felix, Wooyoung, and Sunoo, she's not sure her little family would've held together. Now, five years down the road, she's found herself in another mess when she loses her sister’s house. Thankfully, her best friends are there to help her.

notes: the summary sucks, I've always been bad at them, but this is a little comfort au that I've been meaning to write for a while now. There will be no plot. No clear direction of where the story's headed. And no romantic relationships for the time being. Just little scenarios and drabbles set in this world, written more for myself really.... this is pure self indulgent escapism (your girl's going throughit again). Still, I hope some of you enjoy it at least a little 🩷

I'm making a taglist for this series, please leave a comment or send an ask if you'd like to be added ♡

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Drained.

That was the only way you could describe the feeling slowly chipping away at you, replacing the marrow of your bones so you felt hollow, detached and weightless in a way that had you clinging to any type of feeling that would remind you that your body was real.

Presently, that meant tucking yourself into the cushions of your best friend's couch. Pressing as close to the plush fabric as you could. Praying the pressure would hold you in place, keep your soul from slipping through your skin.

It was hard.

It was hard to stay focused on that task when your heart was beating much faster than it should be.

Difficult to hold the thoughts plaguing you at bay when they seemed to be spreading through your skull like a sickness.

Tired.

You're so so very tired.

You're not sure how it happened. When it all started slipping away from you. Time having blurred and smudged around the edges of the present over the last few months so you could barely remember what day of the week it was without regularly checking your phone. All you knew for sure was that you'd been in over your head when you'd signed the papers that sealed your fate as your niece and nephew's legal guardian.

In hindsight, you suppose you'd had no choice. As long as you were living, they were your family, and you theirs.

'But still,' you think, nails digging into the flesh of your arms, 'you weren't prepared, (y/n)... you jumped headfirst and now you've got nowhere to go...'

...

what now?...

...

"what now...."

....

"Babe?"

"Baby?"

"(y/n)-ah, are you there?"

You look up, meeting the concerned gaze of Lee Felix; the person whose home you were currently invading.

Your best friend smiles down at your upside-down features, setting the two mugs in his hands onto the small table by the arm of the couch so he could rest his elbows on the cushions behind you and cup your cheeks in his hands, the warmth from the mugs sinking into your cold, tearstained skin.

"Is our Momma Goose worrying again?" he asks, still smushing your cheeks together, moving his fingers in small circles that you knew were meant to ease the way you'd been clenching your jaw.

You scrunch your nose at the nickname, chosen because of your role in your niece and nephew's lives and the way they claimed your laugh reminded them of the bird. "Of course I'm worrying, Lix, I just lost my sister's house."

"Technically you didn't lose it, it was that useless deadbeat motherfu-"

"Lix!" you exclaim, head snapping to the door to Felix’s room. "Careful, Niki's a very light sleeper when he's away from... from home..."

Felix nods, a frown tugging at his lips as he climbs over to sit next to you. "Well then that useless old muffinhead's fault. The... half baked brioche doesn't even pay child support, all he had to do was handle the mortgage and he couldn't even do that much..."

You sigh, pulling your knees up to your chest, world tipping sideways as Felix pulls you and your blanket cocoon into his side. Wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he held you to tightly to his chest. His heartbeat, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing proving more effective than the couch cushions could ever be.

You melt in his hold, a few stray tears slipping down your cheeks the moment your body relaxes. It was so much easier to let go when you knew you had someone else to hold you together. "I know... but it was stupid of me to count on that in the first place, I should've planned better... figured out another place for us or something... what am I supposed to do now, Lixie... we're basically homeless..."

"Excuse me?" the voice comes from your right this time, a figure climbing in through the open kitchen window, the fire escape rattling slightly under his chunky black footwear. "The fuuu-dge muffin do you mean 'homeless'?" Wooyoung says, narrowly escaping a scolding.

"I told you earlier?? I lost the house???"

"Hyung, could you please use the door like a human being instead of coming in here like a mangy alley cat all the time?" a fourth person joins you, emerging through one of the four doors down the hall leading off the open living space, messy blond hair still damp from a shower.

"That takes too long," Wooyoung says happily, slipping off his military grade crocs and setting them under the bench set by the window for this express purpose, pulling out a pair of fluffy black house slippers. "Besides, this is our home. We can all come and go as and how we please."

"Still..." Sunoo gripes, settling himself on the floor in front of you.

Wooyoung sets the bag of snacks he'd gone up to retrieve in the first place onto the coffee table in front of you, plopping down beside Sunoo and biting his shoulder, ignoring the younger man's yelp of pain and turning to you and Felix as if he wasn't on the receiving end of one of Sunoo's most disgusted looks.

"Now what's this about you guys having nowhere to go (y/n)-ah? What kind of nonsense is that?" he whines, resting his arms on the couch and staring up at you with a small pout on his face.

"Woo I told you," you sigh, blocked nose muffling the exasperation in your voice, "my sister’s ex-"

"I know the bank got its hands on your sister’s place, that's not what I mean, I mean what do you mean by nowhere to go? You're right here aren't you?"

You blink down at him, brows creased now with confusion rather than anxiety. "Yeah but this is Felix’s place, Woo, I'm just crashing here for the night since I couldn't find a decent motel on such short notice."

"You were gonna go to a motel?!" Felix pulls away from you in alarm, something between worry and pure betrayal on his face.

"Yes?..."

"No." Felix says, bundling you closer and tucking the blankets around you like you were about to get up and wake your sleeping wards to leave at such a late hour. "That's absolutely out of the question, why would you do that when you have us?"

"It wouldn't be right for me to just spring that on you all..." you say wiggling a little so you could rest more comfortably in Felix’s hold.

"Why not?" Sunoo asks, opening a bag of mini chocolate chip cookies. "We have the space you know, nobody ever uses the guest room... we could fit the Ducklings' bunk bed in there... and I wouldn't mind sharing a room with Lix since the master bedroom's pretty spacious...."

"Or I could move into the guest room so (y/n) can share the master bedroom with the Duckies?" Felix suggested.

"That could work," Wooyoung nodded, "or you know they could always room upstairs with me, it's smaller than down here but it's just me so there's room, I get it if you wanna be closer to them though since- (y/n)-ahhh, why're you crying again?"

Wooyoung climbs up onto the couch, somehow wrestling his way into the space on your other side and sandwiching you between himself and Felix.

"I don't know," you sniffle, "I feel silly for worrying? You guys are saying all this so easily..."

"We've been best friends since we were three, I held Niki when he wasn't even a day old, I'd be out of my mind to let you all go anywhere else."

"And I practically co-parented Hima," Wooyoung says pointedly, "what kind of father would I be if I let my babygirl stay in some shady ass motel??"

You can't help the laugh that bubbles up at that, nodding into Felix’s shoulder as memories of Wooyoung pacing round your sister’s living room with a wailing Himawari in his arms float through your mind theater. The clock above him ticking uncomfortably close to the ungodly hour of 4 in the morning, Sunoo leaning tiredly against a doorframe with a cold cup of coffee in his hands, the two of them taking a shift while you tried to get some sleep. You really shouldn't be surprised by the fact that they wouldn't think twice about the three of you moving in.

"Besides!" Sunoo says brightly, noticing the way tears are beginning to well up in the corners of your eyes again, "you all practically live here already, Niki's always in the cafe after school, Hima's DVD collection's here, the three of you have your own house slippers, you even have a mug!!"

He hands you the Jemima Puddle-Duck mug Felix had set down earlier. It was still steaming faintly, full of warm vanilla tea.

Wooyoung nods, leaning off you just enough so you can sit up, one of Felix’s arms still draped behind your shoulders. "The mug is honestly the most important thing, why would Sun bother getting all of you your own weird set of plates and cups if this wasn't your home too?"

"You do have a point there," you laugh, glancing at the fruit themed sets sitting happily in a glass cabinet by the dining table.

"They're not wonky..." Sunoo pouts, "they're cute..."

"They are," you assure him, reaching down to ruffle his hair, a frown line creasing your forehead a moment later, "I should still pay rent tho, Lix, even if it's gonna be temporary. I would feel too guilty about it otherwise."

"Who said anything about temporary?"

"Of course love, I won't press you on it or anything though, I don't need the money so please do whatever's best for Niki and Hima."

"And yo-" Wooyoung starts, but is cut off by a cookie being stuffed in his mouth.

"We're trying to gaslight her into thinking it's for the ducklings, Hyung, keep up please!"

You laugh. A full, proper laugh, clasping a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from waking the kids, wide smile peaking out from behind your hand.

"There she isss," Felix coos, giving you a gentle shake.

"Glad m' sffrng brngs you joy," Wooyoung grumbles around the cookie, glaring down at Sunoo who simply rolls his eyes.

"We can talk about getting your furniture and stuff tomorrow, 'kay?" Sunoo says, handing you the cookie bag.

"Okay..." you say quietly, relief slowly sinking through your skin, "thank you... you know... for always being here..."

"Of course," Wooyoung smiles.

"Always," Sunoo adds.

[napolonio]

Do you accept asks? It's okay you can just delete this if you don't. So I've been detaching from ego and at times I feel at peace, then the ego is triggered and I'm back to being anxious. I think I'm expecting this "special" experience to happen like this euphoric feeling, cause I know that I'm not the ego, or whatever it thinks or feels, but I guess I'm expecting the thoughts and feelings to stop completely. And they're still here. Which makes me feel like I'm not detaching correctly lol. Do you mind sharing how you were able to let go of your ego for good? Thanks!

See, I think that many of us will continue to make use of a body, concepts and live in a world of perception, so really, ego will still be there in some shape or form. What you really need to realize is that you are not it.

To understand ego is to understand time. Through life when we operate as a body, we learn concepts, we learn rules, we learn structures, and that's how ego gets shaped. It is used to navigate life. You know that if a car is driving at high speed, you should not cross the street, that's ego. You have learned social qeues so that you can interact with others, that's ego. "If ___ happens I should do ___". It's a literal program. Now, all ego knows is illusory, because it's the past, it no longer exists. You see life through the past, you aren't really in the now, so really what does ego know? How can ego be helpful in the now if it only operates based on something that does not exist?

Say you were betrayed by a friend. What does the ego do? It feels like its sense of identity has been menaced, so it has to defend itself. It internalizes this experience, it keeps the memory and uses it as its favorite accesory. Friends are fake, you're unlucky and everyone betrays you, you need to keep your defenses up. Not only are you giving yourself this identity, but also your friend, perpetuating the whole story thinking that keeping such memory alive in the now, will bring you a different future and keep you safe in the present.

You wouldn't dare forgive your friend. They deserve your cold stare and hatred. What if you thought about forgiving them? Forgiveness not in the conventional way, but in a new meaning. Forgiveness being an act of correction. What forgiveness really is, is the realization that the betrayal was illusory, it was never real, your friend is innocent. Your ego would feel so frightened by the sole idea, it will feel so vulnerable and unprotected. But you can't really stop identification with your own identity, while also keeping alive the menacing stories you have of seeming others. They're not separate from you and how you see them, directly affects you.

As long as you keep alive your labels of this world, its people, the body, you will still continue to need that ego that created this world. It will keep you bound.

The reason why I think mentioning other people is important, is because seeming others is one of the reasons ego exists. Ego sees others as an enemy. You can let them close, but not too much. As long as you keep stories of others, it will have an effect on you. You can't get rid of your own stories and keep others' alive. Because imagine again your betrayer friend, say you think you successfully "let go of your ego" and the friend comes into frame again, you still hold their story, what will happen? What you mentioned in your ask, ego gets triggered, and what does it bring back?? Correct, your identity of being an unlucky person who has fake friends.

This applies for everything you have learned about this world, society, science, objects, history, all of it. None of it is the now. Continuing to see life through those lenses, is to keep the past alive.

So, to conclude ego=past learnings. If you realize all is now, ego becomes useless. If you trust and surrender to your true nature, you can learn to live as God/imagination/consciousness, and cease the contract with the ego.

It's not linear. Personally I'm not a huge fan of trying to rush things, I enjoy patience. Which brings me to my favorite ACIM quote "infinite patience, brings immediate results".

Also, something fun that not everyone on here might be a fan of, challenge yourself to do things you don't usually do because it's soo "out of character". Say you ask for dark coffee every day, now choose the craziest drink in the menu you can think of. Say your bed sheets are always dark colored, buy a bright colored one. Do/say something that makes you cringe. Dress in a way you would never 😈. It's very funny, I do it every day lmao. Challenge your perception of self. If you feel like you can't, start by imagining it. Imagine yourself doing out of character stuff. You'll see you'll naturally stop being the character.

Disclaimer: as I mentioned at the beginning, most likely you will continue to make use of a body, therefore don't put it in situations of danger. It still has to eat (because I've seen some people asking about eating in imagination 🥴), it can't fly, don't cross the street without looking both ways. This work is mental, so don't feel the need to prove something in the "physical", that's very foolish to do, considering that you probably are still attached to the body and your concepts of it and of this world. Meaning it can be endangered if you try to defy those concepts.

[rowniebow]

Fic where Peter and reader are already dating and Peter is distant because of his obvious job which leaves reader hurt and angry and starts becoming distant and detached with Peter which causes Peter to get mad and then they fight and peter blurts out “are you cheating on me?” Which causes reader to get furious and start yelling which catches peter off guard and reader leaves, can take the story where you want past this. sorry if this is long and confusing or doesn’t make sense (Tom or andrews pete but you can do Tom if it really matters) ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

it can be okay | tom!peter parker x gn!reader

pairings: tom!peter parker x gn!reader

cw: littol bit o angst but not much

word count: 3.4k+

an: went with tom's because i've yet to write abt his peter but i feel like he was left with so much turmoil after no way home, his peter fits well with this prompt...... ANYWAY thank you so much for requesting and i apologize for my absence, esp if u were waiting around for this ! i appreciate you, please stay safe! sry 4 long an

masterlist

⭒

you felt an arm wrap around your waist. warmth and pressure spread over your back. you flipped around to wrap your own arms around the man that had climbed into bed with you.

"sorry," his breath found its way to your ear and pulled the hair on your spine up. his quiet whisper held gravel in the smooth concrete of his voice. "did i wake you up?"

"yeah, i'm glad."

"oh, good. i'm glad i woke you, too. get more time to hear your voice."

you hummed, sleep fighting your coherent words.

"how was your day?"

"it was fine. i missed you for our movie night."

petter stuttered out several different sounds, none of them making any real words.

your eyebrows twitched at his struggle.

"i-i'm so sorry, sweetheart, i completely forgot. i-i-i-i got so caught up with homework i didn't even think... it's that stupid biology class! i always have so much reading to do for it.

"yeah, it's okay," you moved closer to him, desperate for as much of his warmth as possible. "school is more important than movies! let me know next time, though."

"of course," he kissed the top of your head. he lingered with an exaggerated 'mwah'. "i'm so sorry, sweetheart."

you hummed and slurred out a reassurance.

"go back to sleep now, sweets."

and it was okay.

⭒⭒

everything was so much louder when he wasn’t around.

the fridge’s song sung by instruments of kinetic energy hummed at the back of your head. the calm air against the glass window was practically visible with how loud it was. the dust that settled on the marble kitchen countertops and sunk it’s way into the fabric of your couch crunched and stretched the fibers of the masses. you couldn’t seem to turn the television up much higher than seven (you hoped the number might bring you luck to bring the man home).

sure, he’s missed nights that were supposed to be set aside for you two and his favorite star wars films. yes, you’ve noticed how he’s missed more than a few fairly important tests for his classes, causing him to fail (he was beginning to fall fairly far behind in his degree, but you weren’t going to comment on that. not yet, anyway).

but, he’d yet to miss out on a date.

he had yet to leave you waiting at your favorite shitty twenty-four hour diner in the middle of new york that was a forty minute walk from your apartment.

you wouldn’t deny to anyone other than peter that it bothered you a bit. your lip was raw and crumbs from a sad, newly empty plate of fries dusted your nicest clothes that you had put on just for him. your eyes wore heavy bags from how late you stayed up in hope that maybe he was just running a bit late.

however, when a bit late had become two in the morning, you gave up hope on that.

you looked outside at the nearly visible air and listened to the chill of the early morning crack at your window after you arrived back at your empty apartment at nearly three in the morning. you listened to the distant wind against the quickly moving vehicles. you listened to the retreating caw from a bird that didn’t sound like any you’d heard before. you listened to the dust float through the air and the television hum despite it being off. you listened to the deafening silence of the room and your mind.

cold three in the morning apartment air hit the back of your throat as you brought as much of the toxic oxygen into your lungs as you possibly could, and released it to be filtered and given to some other poor abandoned soul.

it was okay.

you understood his forgetful habits. you understood why he slept in and took so many naps. he has a lot on his plate. juggling school, and work, and the family issues that he’s mentioned from time to time.

it is okay.

maybe next time.

⭒⭒⭒

waking up alone after a warm night with peter seemed to hurt more than the missing arrangements.

the apartment's chill leaked under the blankets and burned your skin until you awoke. the emptiness of the space next to you in your bed was a sad physical representation of the emptiness in your gut.

the hole in your stomach that you awake with absorbs all the cereal you eat and leaves you feeling hungry for the rest of the day. it absorbs your joy and hope. it absorbs the warmth in your body (and especially in your smile).

your days are filled with sighs when you wake up with the hole of peter. with those deep exhales, you hope to breath out whatever haunts your stomach.

it sticks with you until the end of the day when you fall asleep alone. peter will climb in after you in the depths of the night and the ocean of your sheets. he'll whisper sweet nothings into your ear. he'll apologize if need be. he'll pepper you with kisses and hold you close.

and you'll be okay.

then he'll do it all over again.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

it just so happened to be next time.

he promised to make the last time up to you and promised to see you the next friday night for dinner.

so there you sat, leg bouncing under the table at a restaurant that was all too fancy for your taste but peter had insisted on.

you were on your third glass of an odd color wine (that really didn’t even taste good) and you were nearing the second hour of waiting.

“would you like to order yet, sir?” the waiter asked for the fifth time that night.

perhaps it was the alcohol that brought a sting to your eyes when you checked the time on your phone. but you smiled and shook your head and asked for the check instead.

looking at the number on the check, you nearly sobbed at how much three glasses of wine cost you. but you sighed and gave an eighty percent tip anyway as reparations for the waiter having to pity you all night. you almost sobbed, again, when you could hear a couple that had gotten there after you comment to one another about how long you’d been there.

cheeks warm with embarrassment, you made your way back to your apartment. the chill of the late night spring mildly helped cool you down.

the pity in the waiter's eyes and the couple's comments haunted you all the way home. only when you undressed into your sleep clothes and climbed under the covers could you manage to excuse peter's actions.

peter must have simply gotten caught up in homework. he must have just fallen asleep.

it's okay.

perhaps he got the days mixed up and forgot it was friday. or he got his hours for work wrong and he ended up having to work.

it is okay.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you truly didn’t mean to lean away from his kiss when peter tried to wish you goodbye that evening.

but you did.

you leaned away as if it were a stranger that was trying to kiss you. you truly didn’t mean to. you also knew that you truly felt as though it was a stranger trying to kiss you, though.

you knew it hurt him. quite honestly it hurt you, too. whether it was the pain in his features that hurt you or the fact that you felt that way.

either way, your actions hurt the both of you, and you knew you should apologize. you nearly did right then and there.

"are you cheating on me?" the quiet whispers of words that he choked out hit you like lightning. the frown in his lips and the way he avoided your eyes made your heart crack before you could process the words he spoke. his broken voice distracted you from the content it delivered.

you felt your eyebrows pull together at first. you felt the apology creep in your throat and nearly spill out.

his hurt was a new language for you to learn. it forced you to think over each word and remember the meaning of it similar to how you did in spanish class in high school.

and as the syllables set in and your brain wrapped itself through the vowels and consonants, you scoffed. maybe even laughed.

did he really just say that? did he truly feel like he had the nerve to say that?

"am i cheating on you?" a glare made itself comfortable in your features.

it's not okay.

"...no?" peter’s stuttered, hesitant disagreement made his regret in his words clear. but how could you just brush over his accusation?

"peter parker, i should be asking you that question."

"wha-what do you mean?"

"you're the one who's hardly fucking here. you’re the one that’s left me waiting until the morning for you to come around. you’re the one who ‘forgets’ anytime we agree to hang out.”

it is not okay.

“i-i didn’t-,”

“‘you didn’t’ what? remember? show up?”

his silence was as loud as it is when he’s gone.

“where are you all day, peter?”

so

“where are you at night?”

fucking

“where are you right now. are you even here?”

loud.

“get out.”

“what? no - no, please, y/n, you gotta trust me on this.”

nothing is okay.

“i trusted you to be here!”

“i know, and i’m so sorry, but - ah - i can’t tell you. you just-just gotta trust me!”

“no, peter!”

“please, i’ll make it up to you, i swear!”

“you’ve had plenty of chances for that.”

“c’mon, y/n,”

“no! even if you’re not cheating on me, you obviously don’t have time for me!”

“i’ll make time for you,”

“you really should have already been doing that.”

“i’ll make more time for you!”

“you don’t get more time in a day, and you’re not getting anymore from me, parker. christ- are you going to leave?"

"no! y/n, please, let me make this right, i-i can't lose you, too."

"fuck. i will leave then, jesus!"

"what?"

you slipped your shoes on, ignoring his words.

peter called your name as you opened the door.

"goodnight, peter."

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

you stayed at your parents house for a couple nights then came back to your empty apartment. the silence wasn't as loud as it normally was, but the intensity of the emptiness, both in the apartment and in the pit of your stomach, made up for the lack of overbearing volume.

you went about your life for two whole weeks with that emptiness haunting you. not a word from peter. about anything.

you went to your classes, studied in your room, went to work, came back and went to sleep: the college dream.

you hardly even noticed two weeks had passed with the way you had just been floating through the days.

with your mind blank without the joy and excitement of peter parker in your life, you filled it with the words from your humanities textbook to prepare for a final.

the jiggling of your apartment doorknob cut through the sound of the words in your head. your eyes immediately went wide. the air became thick as you heard the door squeak open slowly but surely.

your breath was stuck in your throat, but you found it in you to pick up your heavy textbook to toss if you needed.

you listened to the door creek shut and click closed.

perhaps someone just mistook your apartment for their own? maybe a new neighbor who's mixing it up? you're sure it's just a simple mistake and not some horrible, evil, scary, stronger-than-you criminal who wants to steal the little bits of items you have. certainly they won't murder you brutally, or kidnap you and sell you.

certainly not, right?

your mind ran wild with what-if's and dangers of the situation. what else was there to do in the face of danger, though? hide under your blankets and hope they don't come in?

no, you'd at least like to look death in the face before you go.

that didn't stop your racing heart and shaking hands, of course.

so you crept around your door frame and down the small hall that lead to your tiny living room. you could hear the person rattling through your pots and pans.

you stood behind the corner, telling yourself it'd be fine.

you can do it. just go and ask what's going on. you're sure this is probably just some huge mix up.

"hah!" you huffed as you turn the corner and toss the heavy book at the person.

they immediately turn around and catch the flying pages. your heart drops to your stomach. your only weapon failed.

"y/n? i didn't know you were home!"

your heart manages to repair itself in your chest as the voice and face process in your mind. "peter?" you practically shriek. "what are you doing here?" a breath (that you were fully aware you had been holding) left your lungs, your hands finding their way to cover your face from the stress.

"i-i-i didn't know you'd be home, i'm sorry,"

"so you sneak into my apartment when i'm not home?" the glare you sent him reminded him how snappy you get when you're upset.

"no, no, no, no, no-!"

your questioning glare had him pause his denial.

"well, yes,"

you groaned.

"but listen!"

"i don't want to listen to you when you just broke into my house, peter!"

"well, the door was open-,"

another groan.

"okay, yeah, i can...see...that..."

"leave, peter!"

"wait, wait, wait! okay, listen," he took a deep breath. "i can explain myself-,"

"which part: when you forgot about me constantly or when you broke into my house?"

"all of it! i can explain and i just want you to know that i haven't been telling you for your own safety."

"what the fuck are you talking about?"

"just-just come with me."

"where?"

"it's a surprise!" his apologetic smile willed you to trust him.

you stared at him. his waves framed his face - his hair seemed to grow a lot in the last two weeks. his eyes were a whirlpool that sucked you in.

"jesus, peter." you shook your head, but found some shoes and a jacket to slip on anyway. the bright smile on peter's face made you want to forget about everything.

you followed him down the stairs to the quiet, three in the morning college town streets on a tuesday.

"how far away is it?" you asked. your eyes followed a plane as it blinked through the sky.

"kind of far," he moved in front of you to block your path. "but," he sung his vowel. "i know a quicker way to get there!"

"do we need to take the subway-?" you looked around, only for peter to wrap an arm around your waist. "what-?"

"it's going to be a little scary but you gotta trust me."

"what are you doing, pete?"

"you gotta hold on okay?" he guided your arms around his neck. "trust me, okay?" his sweet enchanting smile encouraged you to trust him despite everything. that didn't stop the groove between your brows from forming, though.

"what-?"

and you were in the air. screaming, obviously. you could hear his reassurance and apologies, willing you to keep holding on.

after several minutes of being in the air and coming to the consensus that you wouldn't fall even if you tried with peter's death grip on you, you took a glance around at your setting.

the street was far below you. cars and lights from down below smiled up and laughed at your fear. apartments on the thirtieth floors were eye level but passed so fast that you couldn't see who resided in them.

"isn't it nice?" peter whispered. he was your only lifeline; the only thing keeping you from falling to your death. "it's so peaceful up here." his quiet words didn't calm your racing heart or sooth your stressed features, but it brought you to stay present until your feet hit the solid ground again.

your legs shook you until your knees met the surface you stood on.

"sorry-,"

"what was that, parker?" you sparse breath made your voice come out as merely a squeak but peter knew all too well that you would be screaming at the top of your lungs if you could.

"it- well- i- uhm," the wind helped you push yourself off of your knees and back to sitting like a normal person rather than someone who thought their feet wouldn't ever touch the ground again. "i'm not really sure how to say this i-i-,"

"peter, i swear to god-,"

"i'm spider-man!" you looked up at his avoiding eyes that were as wide as yours. as if he couldn't believe he actually said that.

"excuse me?" you said after several moments of silence passed.

"i-i'm spider-man," his quiet voice was nearly drowned out by the blowing wind.

you laughed.

his eye brows came together in frustration. "why are you laughing?"

"you're not spider-man."

"i just swung us to the top of central park tower and you're going to deny that i'm spider-man?"

your smile slowly faded as you noticed where you were. that he was right. you were among the stars, the moon within inches of your fingers. the street glowed up at you, laughing once more. the usual honking screams from the cars could not be heard from how high you were. all you could hear was the growl of the wind and peter's shy voice.

"oh my god,"

"no-no, don't freak out!"

"i'm not freaking out, i never freak out. you're just spider-man and that's a thing and we're on top of the central park tower and i could totally fall right now but i'm not freaking out."

you were freaking out.

"doesn't spider-man have webs or something?"

peter stuck out his hand, and a white web came tumbling out after your hand that rested on the ground you still sat on. he tugged at the string that stuck itself to your hand and pulled you up with it. you stumbled into him, his hands steadying your shaking.

"that's insane."

"i know, and i'm so sorry. between juggling school and work and this, it's really difficult to keep track of everything. this doesn't have a schedule and gets in the way of you a lot more than i'd like it to."

"i-i guess i get why you didn't tell me."

a breath left through peter's lips. "i-i put together this as an apology, though." he motioned behind you to yet another thing you didn't notice throughout the stress of it all.

a blanket laid out with food from your favorite take out place scattered all over it. small electric candles flickered around the setting providing as the only light that wasn't coming from the city down below along with his laptop that was glowing and set up to browse through netflix for something to watch.

"i'm really sorry. i'm sorry i'm never there. i'm sorry it's taken me so long to see you again. i'm most of all sorry that i can't change it."

your eyes met his once again.

"if how i am is too much for you, i completely understand. you deserve someone who will treat you as good as you deserve and who will show up. but i want you to know that i miss you, and love you, and i will keep trying so hard to show up."

"you love me?"

"i-i-," peter's sure eyes suddenly fell to the floor and his hands found the back of his neck. "i mean, yeah," he stuttered. "but like it's okay, like, i get it, you know? i don't-,"

all the fears of being at the top of the central park tower and dating spider-man and what it means to date spider-man left you mind. all you could think about was how much you really did love peter despite his absent habits. maybe even more so now that you knew this huge secret and what that secret told about him as a person.

so you kissed him.

the heavenly feeling of his lips was something you didn't know you missed as much as you did. as soon as your lips met, tears pricked themselves at your eyes but you refused to let them fall.

you were okay.

peter was okay.

you were both okay.

it was all okay.

⭒ taglist ⭒

@fadedver @1ischai @djmalik52 @garlicforthewin @cryinked @armand0alg0 @softboi14

please dm me if you would like to be taken off of the taglist

[daydream-the-demon]

Claustrophobia

I might be claustrophobic.

Maybe not in the general sense though...

I feel claustrophobic because of the skin, muscles, organs, and everything that's covering me. I think that's why I always have that feeling to throw up, because I want to throw my physical self up away because I always feel claustrophobic.

I keep talking about wanting to throw up. I now have the answer to why.

I think that's a reason I am part of the queer community by being AroAce (because I physically can't stand the physicality of people, and myself), but being Fictoromantic/sexual (because I tend to like the mind and not the physicality). And why I am Xenogender/Genderless because I don't identify with human norms.

I realized I'm scared, no, absolutely TERRIFIED of humans, human norms, human constructs, EVERYTHING.

Also, I realized I had a God Complex. And technically? I'm not wrong. From my perspective, NOTHING exists. I have no proof! I have no proof other people have the same mental capabilities as me. I have no proof ANYTHING exists! It's all fake!

If I were to kill myself, none of you, NONE OF YOU WOULD EXIST.

I realized this is why I'm suicidal. I don't want to mentally destroy myself, no! I want to live forever in that sense! I want to create art and stories and keep on living. I want my myself to be immortalized.

But what fears me, what destroys my whole image, the thing I want to get rid of, is my physical self. I can't stand being trapped like this, feeling so many things that I don't want to. Emotions are chemicals in the brain produced by the physical self, and I try my best not to feel them.

I just feel... wrong.

I dealt with a lot of derealization, depersonalization, and maladaptive daydreaming problems. And I may just have found the reason why. Because I CAN'T STAND my physical self, so I end up leaving, feeling detached and better off in the mental world.

I don't think it's "normal" to be claustrophobic about engaging in basic human functions such as eating, drinking, sleeping, speaking, and everything else.

A lot of things have been explained as soon as I realized my claustrophobia of the real realm.

I just don't belong here, not like this at least.

And I don't know how my Autism plays into this but I KNOW something about all of this is related in SOME SORT of way.

I remember from a young age I felt this.

Why must I have existential crises, every second?

I want to throw up.

I want to bash my skull against a wall.

Everything feels so... wrong.

Something's not right.

I feel insane.

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

I've said it many times and I'll say it again. I don't understand why so many people claim that Aemond is somehow Ryan's favourite or even self insert. I guess it would be obvious now that he hates him as much as the rest of the greens, but some still insist on this. Like, here is the character that actually was one of the most popular in s1 despite the fact that he barely had any screentime and is tg, yet we are halfway through s2 and look what they've done with him?? 5 minutes of screentime, half of it the unnecessary brothel scenes to show him naked and to destroy his relationship with Aegon for good. Zero interactions with Alicent, Helaena, Otto...No reaction to Jaehaerys (but yes to luke).. And he's somehow Ryan's pet? Yeah, no. I think that Ryan is staunchly tb who loves Rhaenyra and Daemon (and Rhaenys) and just watch him give Daemyra an intense and emotional reunion to confirm Daemon's loyalty to her. All these harrenhal scenes are just devices to make the moment more impact full and to subvert expectations™, I'm 100% certain this will be the case. And what the greens got? Mutual hatred, a nonexistent cause, Aegon who still bullies and humiliates his brother and only sees him as a weapon, Aemond who tries to get rid of his brother in the middle of the battle and is completely detached from his family, Helaena who barely exists and don't even get me started on Alicent and Criston. Therefore, if Ryan, Hess or anyone in the writing team "loves" the greens, they sure have a strange way of showing that lmao.

Anyway, I would love to hear your opinion on this.

Hello!

To be honest, at this point I have trouble telling which HotD characters are actually loved by the writers. I am really tempted to say that none of them are because no writer treats a character they love like Condal&Co treat the majority of HotD folks, even TB ones, the supposed faves. Rhaenyra (post S1E5), the protagonist - meek and boring. Rhaenys a.k.a "the voice of wisdom" - a hypocritical woman (who is also basically a mass murderer). Daemon - I don't even know what to say about him, his characterization has been all over the place.

However, IMO we need to take into account two things: 1) HotD writers apparently have received a commission to create a show with a clear as day feminist agenda to regain the audience's favor lost after Daenerys business in S8 of GoT; 2) the most important - they are fucking incompetent, and so they could ruin the characters they "love" just as effortlessly as they do with those they "hate" (sometimes they even fail with the latter - because they are kind of supposed to ruin them but, once again, are incompetent).

So, I really don't know whether Condal and the rest of HotD team are ruining Aemond on purpose - or are just trying to legit create a compelling arc for him by presenting him as a bullied kid with a fuckton of issues who one day just snapped and fully went into a psycho killer mode. Both options are possible - and actually both of them might be true because (and here goes yet another HotD problem) it really feels like the writers who work on the show have trouble communicating and coordinating their ideas. One pushes for one thing, another - for another, and as a result we have characters who act like they get a personality/brain transplant every episode (Daemon and Alicent in S1 are the prime examples of that).

As for the "Aemond is Condal's self insert" -everything is possible. To comment on that properly I would have to get into speculations about the latter's personality and mental state, and I'd rather not do this. As much as I despise him, he is still a real person; and I am neither a psychologist nor a psychiatrist (neither do I know him personally), so it's not my place to do that.

Thank you for the ask!

[all-about-kyu]

Summary: After a long day at the hospital, all Jaemin needs is cuddles from his babies. Pairing: cashmere lop!Jaemin x fem human!reader Tropes: hybrid au Genre: fluff, slice of life Rating: PG Warnings: storms, pregnancy, mentions of hospitals/surgeries Word Count: 822

Neo Hybridverse Masterlist || Cashmere Lop!Jaemin Masterlist

It’s late. It’s really late at night. You’re doing your best to soothe all three of your children back to sleep. A typical summer storm is rolling through your part of the city, and none of them are quite keen on the idea of sleeping right now. You’re beyond exhausted, though. Being eight months pregnant while wrangling a seven-year-old and two five-year-olds is not how you wish to be spending your night.

“Momma, I don’t like the storm. It’s hurting my ears.” Miyoung comments, pressing her hands over her fluffy ears.

“I know, love.” you try to soothe, “Hopefully, Daddy’ll be home soon, and he can help scare the storm away.”

Seojun is the least bothered by the weather. If anything, he’s doing his best to help you. He brought Chaewon her favorite stuffed animal (which he had hidden from her) in hopes that it would help calm his twin down. He bounced around the bedroom, trying to distract his sisters from the storm. All of his attempts to help failed, of course, and he ended up getting spooked by the storm as well.

A loud clap of thunder sounded through the air, and all three of them clung to your sides in bed, trying to hide from the raging storm. Miyoung lets out a squeal and hides her face against your chest. Despite her fear, she giggles when the baby kicks in her direction. You don’t even realize your husband has returned home until the bedroom door pops open, and all three of your kids barrel toward him.

“Hello, my kits.” he giggles, “Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asks while squatting down to their level.

“I was sleeping, but Chae woke me up.” Seojun grunts.

“LIAR! HE WAS SCARED OF THE STORM FIR-” Chaewon starts her tangent but then jumps into her dad’s arms as thunder claps again.

Jaemin picks up all three of them. Miyoung on his back with one twin in each arm. He playfully tosses them on the bed, listening to the chorus of giggles that they let out. You smile at their playful nature despite how late at night it is. With a hand resting on your belly, you watch the interaction contently. Seojun’s grey ears flop back and forth each time Jaemin tickles him. Miyoung and Chaewon, with their soft brown ears try to escape the tickle monster that is their dad. Everything feels so warm and happy.

“I gotta go get changed real quick. These clothes smell like the yucky hospital.” Jaemin explains, “I’ll be right back to cuddle with you five.”

“Five?” you question with a giggle.

Jaemin leans over and kisses you softly, earning disgusted noises from your kids, “Five.” he confirms, placing a hand on your belly.

“Technically, she’s not here yet, so it’s more like a two-for-one situation.”

“Only a few more weeks.”

With that comment, Jaemin disappears into your closet to change into something much cleaner and more comfortable. After a twelve-hour shift as a pediatric surgeon, he absolutely needs to decompress. Cuddling with his babies and wife is exactly what he needs to do. When he comes back into the room, he sees Miyoung already curled up beside you, half asleep. The twins are still pretty hyper, but you’ll always blame that on how high-energy he is too. Before he can process what the two five-year-olds are planning, they’re each clung to one of his legs. Seojun is wrapped around his left leg while Chaewon is on his right. Jaemin drags his feet along the hardwood flooring trying to get to the bed. Both twins giggle excitedly as he does so. The moment he reaches the bed, they both detach and jump up onto the plush mattress. Jaemin climbs into the bed beside you. All three of the kids relax finally. Miyoung is already snoring lightly against your shoulder while the twins wind down finally.

“Pheromones?” you question. Jaemin nods, “How was work today?”

“Actually, not horrible. Two successful surgeries for those little ones I told you about the other day. Then a lot of planning for tomorrow and those surgeries. I’m actually really worried about-”

“Let’s talk about that when we don’t have three kids in our bed.” you interrupt. “Let’s just cuddle for now. We all need it.”

Your husband nods and starts gently stroking Chaewon and Seojun’s ears, lulling them to sleep. The storm starts to calm down outside, and you find yourself leaning your head onto your husband’s shoulder. Miyoung is fast asleep on your left, Chaewon on your right, between you and Jaemin. Seojun is contently curled up on Jaemin’s chest. Moments like these will always be treasured to you. No matter how long they are or how far in the past they may become.

“I love you.” Jaemin mumbles sleepily, “Thank you for giving me these four miracles.”

“I love you too, bunny. Get some rest. It’s been a long day for you.”

COPYRIGHT STARLITMARK 2023© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED — reposting/modifying any fic or piece of original writing posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations are not permitted. 

Networks: @kwritersworld​ @k-vanity​

Tag List: @raibebe​ @jaehunnyy​ @umbralhelwolf​ @wooyoungmybelovedhusband​

[anisespice]

“ so what? ” || tokyo rev. pt.2

                                 “ boy, I know you miss me, so what? ”

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] 

synopsis: when you showed up to his bike shop out of the blue, homie thought this was his shot at a second chance — a real shot in the dark. 

pairing: college!draken x gn!reader

word count: 1,247

warnings: mature language, angst (for him), mentions of cheating and stabbing, i think that’s it.

notes: part two is complete!! there will probably just be a total of three of these, unless i’m hit with inspiration after the last one...ion know, we’ll see ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ .

Man nearly broke his neck doing a double-take when you walked into his shop, wrench slipping out of his hand with a harsh CLANG as memories came flooding in almost instantaneously.

There were tears. God, there were so many tears.

Even in that moment back then, you looked absolutely breathtaking; he just hated how he had to be the reason behind it all. DRAKEN didn’t want to continue the relationship knowing he was starting to drift, mind no longer occupied with thoughts about you, but someone else. He didn’t cheat on you, thankfully, but he came close one too many times. Before it got to that point, he cut things off without much hesitation. And not a day went by where he didn’t feel the weight of regret.

That was over a year ago.

Looking back, he wished he had handled it better. Then, maybe seeing you now wouldn’t feel like such a kick to the stomach. You looked better than ever, as breathtaking as the day he lost you, even beneath the unflattering lights from above. Eventually, your wandering eye landed on his stiff figure, rooting him right into the ground.

“Ken.”

His name used to sound like warm honey pouring from your sweet lips, each letter blanketed with adoration. Now, it feels sour. Detached, one could say.

“[_]-[____]…” he rasped, immediately clearing his throat afterward. Not knowing what to do with his hands, Draken crossed his arms, almost like a defensive stance. “What, uh…what are you doing here?”

“Look…I know this is sort of awkward but…I need your help.”

“My help?” He immediately thought the worst, especially since you came to him of all people. However, you were quick to squash whatever horrid thoughts began swimming in his head.

“It’s nothing bad! It’s repair related. If I remember correctly, you were pretty much a wiz at this stuff without charging a hefty price. That still true?”

Draken exhaled, relieved. Then, he shrugged. “Sure. I mean, I’m pretty reasonable depending on the damage. But, y’know I repair motorcycles, right?”

You hummed softly before reaching for your phone, tapping away until you found what you were looking for. In a few small strides, you entered this man’s personal bubble…it took everything in him not to flinch away in surprise. How could you be so calm about this? The last time you saw him, you cursed his name and threatened to castrate him with your bare hands if you ever saw him again. Now, you acted as if you were conversing with a total stranger; it was unnerving.

And, dare he say it…kinda disappointing.

He wasn’t expecting theatrics, but at least a little emotion would’ve been better than none whatsoever. After you parted ways, the mechanic tried to give his other relationship a try, only for that to end up going nowhere and leaving him completely devastated. Draken buried himself in his work to try and block out the pain from his impulsive decision, finding some sort of sick comfort in the idea that you’d be feeling the same emptiness.

Clearly, that wasn’t the case.

With you standing so close to him now, the former blonde couldn’t help but notice the airiness in your demeanor. The bags under your eyes were gone, hair a lot shinier, and even your scent gave off rejuvenation. You practically flourished while he was stuck living in the past.

But, Draken knew that’s what he deserved. Hell, he should be grateful you’re considering his business despite everything that’s happened between you two.

“…so, you think you can handle it?”

Uh oh. What did you say? What should he say??

He blinked a couple times, scratching the back of his neck as he registered exactly what you were showing him on your phone. The picture was of a slightly banged up looking Cobra Black 6493B. It caught him off guard that you’d be talking about such an expensive ride, not to mention a damaged one at that. Draken gave a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief; that’s definitely not gonna be cheap. “Well it’s uh, it’s difficult to say from the photo alone. But I can say whoever did this must’ve been a real dumbass.”

Tilting your head to look up at him with an arched brow, he immediately realized his mistake. He visibly glitched. You couldn’t help but snort, “I take it you missed the part where I mentioned it was my fault?”

“…and about pretty much everything else, minus that last part, yeah.”

It’s a rare sight to see the mountain man so flustered, but luckily you were kind enough not to comment on it. Even though he knew you really wanted to, Draken appreciated it nonetheless. If anything, it might’ve just lowered your price.

“Well, you’re not wrong. I was definitely being a dumbass. I mean, I was doing fine until I forgot how to break properly, then immediately panicked and jumped off the bike at the very last second before hitting a tree.”

Draken blinked widely, completely appalled. “Why the hell were you even on it to begin with if you didn’t know what you were doing?!”

He knew he had no right to scold you, but, as much as he’d hate to admit it, Draken still cared. Even after you broke up, his love for you didn’t just shut off. If anything, it merely grew—Seeping its unforgiving talons deep into his chest, refusing to relent no matter how many he slept with. The constant need to protect you came in full swing at the idea of you doing something so reckless, it was like a second nature. However, you merely brushed it off, scrolling through your phone to find a better visual of the overall damage.

“I just figured it would be like riding a regular bike. It’s not like my goal was to crash, y’know.” Draken rolled his eyes. You scrolled through your gallery until you finally found what you were looking for. “Ah! Here it is, bastard actually video taped it. He better be glad I don’t sue his ass for endangerment.”

“Huh?” Draken squinted, dumbfounded.

“Hm? Oh, my boyfriend’s older brother. It’s his bike. Yeah, the fucker bet that I wouldn’t last more than ten seconds on the stupid thing. Obviously I wasn’t gonna let him keep talking shit, and I swear I was gonna be totally safe about it, but then my boyfriend tried to talk me out of it and that sort of made me wanna do it even more because…”

Even though you were explaining the whole backstory, Draken had completely tuned you out. The only thing his mind latched onto was the last thing he wanted to hear.

Boyfriend. You had actually moved on.

The former delinquent had experienced many terrible things in his life, being stabbed and nearly bleeding to death being one of them. But this?

Frankly, he’d prefer the stabbing.

You said it so nonchalantly, too, as if you were talking about the weather. Were you trying to piss him off, or something? Probably not.

You weren’t a spiteful person, even though you had every right to be, you most likely said it because you felt it necessary to be mentioned. Besides, you gained nothing from making him jealous. Except maybe a reaction, but you weren’t even looking at him as you rambled on about what’s-his-face and the bike.

Either way…you maybe should’ve kept that piece of information to yourself.

Because now, the price just doubled.

© 2022-2023 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[evenmoreofadisaster]

The recent chapter was amazing one v two was so good, ugh and the ending 😂, wondering through, I know you mentioned how complicated their relationship is, but does two feel anything about doing that to one? Or is somewhat numbed to it all? Like it’s necessary ect, if that made sense… love the art and fic so much 🤗

I am so glad you asked. I'm going to take so long to get to the point.

Spoilers for EMD smart lair:

When Two first threatens One with shutting off his EPCVI he's furious and desperate because from where he stands, if he doesn't do something drastic, both their lives are over: "'Nothing I do is without a reason! Nothing!'" / “'They are our last chance to finally fix Alpha 9! Without them we are nothing!'”

Throughout season one, no matter what Two says or does One never listens to him and always sticks to his own agenda. This is a magnification of how in Rise (especially the movie) Leo tends to focus on only doing things his way and not wanting/needing any or much help. On top of that, Somni and I were just talking about how a lot of One and Two's fights are about power plays against each other. We've talked a bit about the complications in their relationship stemming from the power imbalance and lack of respect between them (mostly for Two). So their fights are a bit repetitive since it all comes back to the same problem, manifested and brought to the surface by One's agenda, but the stakes are raised each time until the breaking point in Smart Lair when One acts on his plans.

So making that first threat in SL was a trump card for Two and absolutely a last resort. We joke that Two could get revenge by turning One's heart off whenever he gets even slightly ticked off but really, jokes aside, it's important to keep in mind that deactivating One is the worst case scenario if One is really out of control. Two doesn't really gain anything by shutting One off except for maybe more spotlight for himself (but given his and Draxum's relationship that's a very small opportunity for Two, and we see in Smart Lair that Two gets in trouble for threatening to use the protocol without permission), so the reveal of the off switch and Two's threat that he can use it at any moment shows how desperate Two is in Smart Lair. He's tried everything to get One to stop but he just keeps pushing, so Two has to threaten him with the deactivation. "'I can change my mind if you don’t step. Back. In. Line.'”

That being said, using it once could set a precedent for future crises

anyway.

When they go back with Draxum, Two's already tattled on One for his insubordination because, above almost all else, Two prioritizes the mission since it is quite literally his life's purpose. Like in Bug Busters, he's trying to put One at fault, only now he has a clearer idea of how and why he's failing, and it's undoubtedly One's fault. And this time Draxum sees for himself that One really wasn't planning on helping out at all, which is grounds for deactivation. "'You've become a nuisance.'" If One won't follow orders he's a liability for Draxum, so Draxum orders Two to shut him off. Two complies because A. it's a direct order, and B. it's the logical solution to the problem. It's protocol. As for what he's feeling... probably nothing. Logically, Two knows that One isn't dead, he's off. It's a temporary, controlled state, one that he can monitor himself, so there's no real loss. (One definitely and understandably doesn't see it that way). I think in that moment, if anything, it takes a bit of pressure off Two because the threat has been neutralized. However, both One and Two think that once Draxum takes them off the project they're done for good. So he's also detached because without One, the leader, it's unclear exactly what will happen to Alpha 9. Two knows that Raph and Mikey don't want to be there and have none of the right training. So for him it's a kind of uncertain moment. Two's position is definitely not secure without One and after ratting on his officer and acting pretty extremely, and we see the consequences of that just a second after One's neutralized. But again, to him, the order against One makes sense. They are experiments meant to follow orders. If they fail to do so, they are no longer useful, and thus disposed of. Two was just following orders and standard protocol.

From the audience's perspective though, it's pretty messed up. Two likely won't really realize what he did to One until after he unlearns the mentality that they are more subjects than people, and that he has power over mortality (the "there's nothing I can't fix" mentality is a huge part of how he rationalizes the risks he takes).

Sorry for the long response I just love talking about these two and a lot of what we put into the chapters is very behind the scenes or in between the lines

Glad you liked the chapter! It got pretty intense but we really like to push conflicts and see where it goes :)

[distant-velleity]

i was wrong, yes, it was me

Summary: Yu’s getting really sick and tired of landing himself in the infirmary. Warnings: none (probably) Pairings: none Word count: 461 A/N: Shorter one for the prompt "hospital stay." Almost didn’t post this with all the formatting but I haven’t done a prompt fill for the bingo iiiin… nearly three months now so I felt like I might as well. Maybe I'll write a longer follow-up for "bedside vigil" when imminent finals aren't steadily draining me of my will to do anything... Anyway. Enjoy a quadruple drabble full of what I can only describe as my evening word spill.

---

Not for the first time, Yu wakes up in the infirmary.

The lofty ceiling and cross-hatched windows are the same as always. Faintly, specks of dust float about, illuminated by the rays of sunlight filtering in from outside. They only hit part of the curtains surrounding his bed, the room otherwise comfortably dim in terms of lighting. 

So I’m back here again, he thinks groggily as more and more of his senses come back to him. 

The freshly-washed blanket draped over Yu, smelling just as generic as he remembers, rustles like paper as he tries to sit up. If the Herculean effort of just trying to get up wasn’t enough already, there’s a sharp stabbing sensation that sends pain rippling outwards from his right side.

 He winces; that probably has something to do with how he ended up here.

…How did he end up here again?

Did I get in a fight? Or… maybe it’s my fault? Did I make some stupid mistake again? 

Yu tries to recall, but—nothing of note pops up. He can’t seem to find anything in his memory, or maybe he’s just too tired to remember on his own. 

As if sensing his dilemma, the System pops up to life with a display of his current status:

[ USER’s HP is critically low and currently recovering. ]

[ CURRENT DEBUFFS: Overblotted — effects include exhaustion, sickness, and decreased recovery rate. ]

[ You’ve gained fear and concern points from several students. ]

[ Several characters are worried about you. ]

…“Overblotted.” Overblot…ted?

He has to repeat it and run it through his mind again because, for a moment, it doesn’t seem real. It feels so detached from him. 

One more time to make sure I’m not seeing things.

Yu narrows his eyes at the screen.

Overblot—?

—Of course, it’s that one word from the second notification which sends all the memories rushing back. 

Memories of hearing the news about a chance to return to the world he simply couldn’t return to;

of impulsively running off and stealing the blot stones Crowley had worked so hard to collect and hide;

of confessing everything about how he ended up here, then feeling so dizzy until the blot started wrapping around him in a comforting cocoon—

Yu’s mouth feels dry with dread, a sinking feeling coordinated in his chest. All he can really do is utter “oh” aloud like an SSS-ranked idiot, thinking—so it really was my fault, then. 

The observation is so simple and obvious, so ridiculous, that he just sort of sits there for a moment. 

And then he bends over forward, knees drawn in underneath the too-familiar and too-clean blanket, burying his face in his hands. He’s not sure if the muffled, strangled sound that comes out of him is a laugh or a sob. 

[funpuddle]

just some character shitt for future things i may want to do

I think the cornflakes characters would work better as a dynamic if instead of being strict to the comic lore, i just started all over, start all over at a point in time where they've all known eachother a while. i kind have basically been using this oversimplified outline for their characters when i think of them anytime now aside for the Other comic ive been working on on my patreon, which is just a weird nebulous Thing.

derek the dog wasn't always a dog, sometimes he wishes he weren't bitten by a weredog all those years ago, but he's come to embrace his doggyness, he sees no point in being hung up about the past. Derek is functionally an optimist, he's also really annoying and not in a cute spongebob way, he's a socially inept frat-reject douche, real immature. bunjee contrasts this by taking Dereks metaphor of Bad Thing happened to you that changed you a lot and making it literal, but he's incapable of moving past it, he comes off as the smarter and more reserved one from a subsurface glance but he's just a bitter, neurotic, sad little man. I want to make it clear how both of them are gullible and hopeless. theyre both vaguely victims of The Forces of Evil but derek doesn't question the way things are, and is just happy to live the closest approximation to the status quo. bunjee ruminates and festers, bunjee is more afraid and thinks theres more to be afraid of than there really is. bunjee tries to overcorrect this by letting impulsive and destructive tendencies get the best of him when he's vulnerable. bunjee doesn't see dereks pain as real, he sees him as too stupid to feel pain, a total rube or NPC, but he's so so jealous. Derek represents everything Bunjee wants for himself, and he wants to be stupider but doesn't realize he already is as stupid. just in different ways. god damn it this basically is a spongebob and squidward thing isnt it.

dusty fits into this by showing another response to trauma (i hope its clear by trauma i don't mean anything in specific, it could be events in their lives to just living in their comically surreal evil world, don't make fun of me man) that isn't moving on OR rocking-back-and-fourth-levels of neurosis, but detachment. If their world is chaos then dusty tries to match it, where as derek is passive to it, and bunjee spirals inwardly. Dusty doesn't put on a front of happiness but he is indeed chemically impaired over half the time, the rest of the time he's really badly grappling with the side effects of letting shit fester in the background for so long, he's wiser than the other two though.

All of these characters are capable of matching each others energy, two on two, in given circumstance, they all have overlap and they have hard barriers. contrasting and complimentary existences as one unit

none of this really gets into how they feel about each other beyond how bunjee feels about derek because i haven't fleshed out how dusty contrasts/compliments the other two nearly enough in my mind, and i'm not confident in what i do have. the gay shit wouldn't be as massive or monumental i can tell you that much but it would be a turning point. wouldn't make dusty as outwardly hateful to derek and would make dusty a little meaner to bunjee. the gay shit would feel better that way anyways. even the playing field.

smith would just straight up not exist if i could do it over again. i don't know why i added him into cornflakes comic to start, he's pretty funny with derek at least but beyond existing for the sake of it i don't find him useful as a fourth main character anymore.

i'll probably edit this as i figure out how to articulate more. it feels gay to just put it out there because i don't want the few cornflakes fans taking it the wrong way. i feel gay for typing that too, like im on some high horse, ohhhh here's my epic character lore isn't it just sooo realll. not that serious

[nightfurylover31]

I decided to write something for a special someone. Happy birthday @starrjoy! What happens when I take a scene from Sonic Frontiers and sprinkle it a bit of their Pandora AU with it? You get this! I loved the moment Sonic and Knuckles had in the game, and I hope you like it too. Just a bit of what might be going on in Sonic's head during this heart to heart chat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time, the vibe on Ares Island was calm and stale. Even more so for being a desert environment. Things were seldom after the final vision of the Koco, and their… departure. These little guys were fighting in a war, and seemingly, none survived. Only their souls remained in these little figurines, but now they were just empty husks. 

Knuckles sat on top of one of the ruins overlooking the plain. Sonic made his way over and sat beside his friend. There was tension in the air. Sonic was about to make one of his wisecrack comments to cheer him up, but stopped himself. It didn’t feel like the time.  

Knuckles was taking what happened to the Koco hard. He did lead the Resistance during the war. He also panicked a bit when those robots were going to attack the bunker earlier. Maybe that brought back some bad memories.

Finally, the echidna spoke. 

“Ages ago, my people were wiped out by a cataclysm. I know the Koco faced something similar. It reminds me I’m the last echidna. That I’m alone.” 

A strong pain echoed in Sonic’s heart then. A pain he hadn’t thought about in years. The pain he felt losing his home, his entire culture, and his family, to such an event. One that he caused. It surprised him he didn’t think about it that much anymore. Old memories did start to pop up when he heard that spooky sky voice. The beginning of how it all fell apart. Every fiber of his being screamed to ignore it. But with his friends’ safety on the line, how could he? 

Still, it finally dawned on him how similar his own past was to Knuckles’. All alone in the world, with no family. All because of some sort of deranged water deity took it all. At least you weren’t the one to cause the cataclysm, Sonic thought to himself. 

Sonic did not say a word about his past. Knuckles might be the most understanding, since he shared a similar burden. But then again, Rad Red might start a rant about Sonic screwing up everything in his life. Maybe not right now, but later. No, now was not the time for that. Right now his friend needed cheering up. 

“You may be the last, but you’re not alone. You’ve got us, knuckle-head,” he said with less sass than usual. And I’ve got you guys.  

That did seem to perk Knuckles up a bit. To be reminded of the friends he made whom care about him so much. Despite their repeated fights and bickering, the two of them were very close. 

“I’ll admit, I do envy your lifestyle,” Knuckles continued. “Freedom to go where you want, when you want.” 

It wasn’t like the echidna to say something like that. Guess being stuck in between cyberspace and the real world left him wanting more. Amy said the experience made her feel detached. And Knuckles was a hands-on guy. He did come off his island occasionally when Eggman’s schemes, or anything, got too threatening. But he never really got the chance to explore the world freely. To truly enjoy it. It made Sonic happy to hear Knuckles say that.

“So do it! Get out there and live a little.” He had tried to encourage that before, but now it felt like the offer was ready to be taken.

“Maybe I could.. but first I need to be back to normal.” Knuckles stood up and added some extra sass to his voice, along with a smug grin. “So hurry up and get me back to normal!” 

“Anything to get you away from me,” Sonic barked back.

The two glared for a moment, then bursted out laughing. To anyone, it would probably seem odd. But Sonic and Knuckles have known each other long enough to read pass the insults to know what they really meant. Their playful banter becoming one of the things that made their bond so strong. 

For the most part, Sonic saw himself and Knuckles as opposites. One as free as the wind, the other strong as a mountain. Sonic lived by his own feelings; Knuckles was full of a sense of duty. It seemed amazing that the two became friends, but opposites attract, I guess. 

Sonic was not one to believe in fate, but he did feel that maybe the two of them were brought together for a reason. Their cultures’ actions impacted their lives. The blue hedgehog realized Chaos had to have been the god that Pandora was separated from by his ancestors, back when he first saw it in Station Square. The one who used him to wipe out everyone on Christmas Island. Sonic never told Knuckles about this; he never even told Tails. How could you tell someone, no matter how close they were, about your greatest mistake? The one that costed the lives of thousands. 

Sonic pushed those feelings and memories back down, focusing on what was happening right now. A peaceful moment with his dear friend.  

Maybe one day I’ll have the courage to tell you the truth, Knux. But for now, I’m glad to have you by my side. As a rival, and one of the best friends I could ever ask for.