#is it like cringe to have feelings or wallow in them or something? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldsainz · 1 year

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ur writing is so beautiful omg, so i was wondering if you could do lewis x actress!reader? something angsty idk

YOU’RE LOSING ME — one shot.

pairing: lewis hamilton x reader

MASTERLIST.

summary: you have tried your best, but despite your valiant efforts, he just doesn’t see you anymore.

warnings: angst, cursing, a LOT (like a lot) of taylor references.

NOTE: YAY A LEWIS PIECE!!! i love this man so much makes me happy that someone asked me to write for him, so thank youuuuuu 🫶🫶 remember this is all fiction, it’s not meant to be taken literally. also, there won’t be a part 2, so pls don’t ask for one.

[ word count: 2,6k ]

You loved Lewis, and you knew he loved you. It wasn’t a matter of love, it was about showing up and making you feel wanted.

You knew love. You knew it was sweet, and had its sour moments, but it was about resilience and the want to be there for your loved ones. And love shouldn’t feel the way it did, it shouldn’t form a lump in your throat when he kissed you, it shouldn’t want to make you cry, it especially shouldn’t have made you feel lost.

You had spent endless nights sitting in the dark of your shared room, wondering if it was time. Maybe those feelings would go away, you knew Lewis was going through a rough time with Mercedes and his pursuit for an 8th WDC. And you were so, so supportive, but there wasn’t much more you could give. Should you throw out everything you had built together, or keep it?

There were moments in which you remained silent, keeping each thought you had to yourself just to not ruin your day. You just glared at him, hoping he would realise something was wrong, that maybe you did have things to talk about, but he never did. He just kissed your forehead, and carried on with his day.

You had become accustomed to him coming home late, to the weeks without him. It was a part of his job, and even if you had wanted to accompany him, your job demanded too much of you to do so.

Lewis was a popular person, and despite being very reserved, he still had many fans and people that admired him all around. His attention was always drawn to others, jumping from conversation to conversation, pausing your chats to greet whomever he recognised. It was exhausting, but you pushed through because he was the love of your life, the one you had been searching for your whole life.

After-parties were the best thing after award shows, it was much more intimate, and you didn't have to worry about unwanted attention. You could let loose for a while, the pressure of always being in front of a camera leaving you as you chatted the night away, drinking every now and then as to numb some of your worries.

You watch people laughing, having the time of their lives, while you wallow by the bar of your own party. You feel forgettable, but so needed at the same time, people kiss your cheeks and congratulate you for your award winning performance and the achievement you accomplished, and all you do is smile at everyone. You feel like a fraud, acting like you're great when in reality you are screaming on the inside.

“Is Lewis here?” One of your castmates asks you, making you search for him in the crowd.

“Yeah, he’s with his friends.” You say with the best smile you can muster.

“Doesn’t it bother you that he's not with you?”

“I’m sorry?” The question startles you, tilting your head to the side as the emotion from your face fades.

“I mean, it’s not every day you win a golden globe for best actress, shouldn’t he be with you?”

“He’s a very busy man, it doesn't bother me, there’s still so much time to celebrate.” You say with a laugh, brushing off the comment.

“Ugh, you’re such couple goals. It makes me jealous, honestly.”

“Well, it has been six years.” You almost cringe at the bad joke, but fortunately she just laughs. You smile at her, bidding her a good night as you leave to socialise.

The party is at its peak, people are dancing anywhere and everywhere, shoes are discarded around as the dancing gets to them.

“Y/N, get over here!” Miles, Lewis’ friend, shouts at you.

Walking through a crowd of drunk people is near impossible, it takes a lot of patience but you finally reach your boyfriend and his friends. You instantly sit next to Lewis, his knee brushing yours, but other than that, no further contact happens.

It should worry you, it does, but you’ve learnt to not question his attitude. You don’t want to start a fight on your special night, not with all of the people around you, not when he’s finally somewhere with you.

“Hi, guys.” You say, smiling at everyone.

“We wanted to see you, you’ve been everywhere all night!” The comment almost makes you scoff, you’ve looked for Lewis and he is always somewhere else, something always calls his attention when you reach him

“You know how it is.” His friends all laugh at the comment, but he just looks at you with a little smile.

“Well, now that you’re here, the group is complete.”

“It’s always nice to see all of you, thank you for coming, by the way.”

“As if we would ever miss this!” Another of his friends says, motioning to the place with his hands.

You try to intertwine your fingers to your boyfriend’s, initiating any sort of contact to try and mend his poor behaviour in front of his friends. They’re all too drunk to notice the awkwardness, but you feel it, it has been suffocating you for months.

“I’m glad you’re having fun then.”

The conversation flows nicely enough. It serves as a distraction from the indifference Lewis gives you. You’re the best at the party, you’re the reason the party is even happening, and yet you still fade in the background of his thoughts.

“So, how long are you here in London for?” Riley, one of his friend’s girlfriends, asks you, a drink in her hand.

“I’m leaving on wednesday, but I’m probably gonna be back in England for the Grand Prix.” You look at Lewis, who turns to you at the same time.

“That’s great! I could neer travel as much as you guys do.”

“It’s part of the job, but we make it work.” You wait for Lewis to support your statement, but he just looks away.

“When you get married, I need to be there. Your love story is one for the books, girl.” The mention of marriage makes you smile, it’s the one thing you’ve wanted with Lewis since you met him. It’s also the first thing that truly made you smile since you sat down with the group of friends.

Your eyes look down at your bare finger, rubbing the spot where an engagement ring could be if Lewis ever asked you the big question.

“We’re not in a rush to get married.” Is what Lewis says to her. It’s the first time he’s spoken with you included in a conversation, and all you can do is keep smiling. You push away the pain, the knot that forms in your throat almost makes you break.

“We have a lot on our plates, you know? But I’ll make sure you're on the guest list when the time comes.” If Riley sensed anything off, her face is not anything to go by. You excuse yourself to go to the bathroom, hoping to get a way for even a second. And just like that, you desperately want the night to be over.

Arriving at your shared home is nothing short of uncomfortable. The silence while your chauffeur drove you both home made your eyes gloss over, you didn’t know how much longer you would be able to keep your tears at bay, but you needed to be strong.

You throw your shoes by the doorway, eager to go to sleep and forget the fact that Lewis indirectly said he didn’t want to get married to you. You’ve been together for six years, he knows you would love to get married, that if he asked you would say yes. It's him who repels the idea, though he once said he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, he now is in no rush to truly settle down with you.

It makes you spiral. Maybe it’s you who makes it difficult to get married, you know you're not the easiest person in the world, but Lewis isn’t either, but you never fault him for it. He says he doesn't understand many things you do, and you tell him you know he doesn't. You’re dying inside with all of the things unsaid between you, and he doesn't see it.

You need him to say something, to do anything to show that he still cares. And as you watch him do his skincare routine, something you used to do together as he taught you how to take care of yourself better, you can’t seem to shake the feeling creeping up on you. That this won't go away, you’re not going through a rough patch, there isn’t a cure to your situation. You just need to let go.

“Lewis?” You call out, sitting on your bed as you prepare for whatever may happen. He hums in response, too caught up on his stuff.

“Can you come here when you’re done, please?”

“Sure.”

When he finishes up in the bathroom, he goes to lay down on the bed. You watch him, how he doesn't seem bothered by the indecision surrounding the room, how grey you have become in all of your overthinking.

“We’re okay, right?” It’s as if time stops. Lewis, who was calmly laying on the bed, has now frozen on his spot. You search his face in hopes to know what he’s thinking, but you can’t. You don’t know him like you used to, the person you hoped would never become a stranger, was now nearing that.

You don’t know if it's his long pause of silence that confirms what you already knew, but hoped wasn't true, or if it’s the fact that you can’t believe you hoped for any type of response.

“I need to know if we’re okay, Lewis.” You turn your whole body to look at him, silently begging him to say something.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Y/N.” He drags his hands over his face, like the conversation is an annoyance to him , something he can't even consider entertaining. It makes the first tear fall down your face, watching the man you love be so dismissive.

“Anything, literally anything, Lewis.”

“We just had a great night, Y/N. Let’s not ruin it and talk about this some other time, alright? I’m very tired, I have a very busy week ahead, and would like to rest a little.”

It’s a poor excuse, you both know it, it’s written all over his face. You consider letting it go, apologising as you have before, but something about his dismissal makes you angry. It’s the final straw, the last time you will take the blame for trying to fix your relationship, for trying to understand.

“Is that why you won’t marry me?” Your voice breaks in between your words, the raw emotion covering your eyes as you watch him close his eyes in frustration.

“What the fuck are you even talking about right now?”

You scoff at his words, “You said we’re not in a rush to get married.”

“Because we’re not. It’s not a good time, Y/N, and you know it.” His voice is cold, making you wince.

“For you! There’s never a good enough time with you, there’s always something more important.”

“Oh, come on, don’t put this on me.” He stands up from where he is, making his way to the kitchen. You don’t hesitate to follow him, not ready to give up on your conversation.

“I want to settle down, Lewis, we’ve talked about this a thousand times.” You wipe your tears away, trying to compose yourself. “You know that if you ask me I would say yes. Do you even know how embarrassing it is to have everyone ask me when I’m gonna be your bride? All of our friends are getting married, so they practically hand me the bouquet now, and each time you act like nothing happened.”

He pours himself a glass of water, not looking at you, ignoring your presence as if he hopes his indifference will make you go away.

“I love you, why isn't that enough?”

“Do you?” He glances at you, and you finally see the look in his eyes. He doesn't want to fight you, he doesn't want to fight for your relationship. Despite all of the times he acted oblivious, he knew you were reaching a breaking point, he knew you were beating yourself over the impending doom of your relationship, and he said nothing.

You know your pain is an imposition. You know he tolerates it, and you don't question it. You just make your peace with it, even if it means to lie to yourself. There is no doubt in your mind that he loves you, but you don't think he loves you enough, not as he once did, anyway.

“So that's it? Our relationship gets hard and you want to leave?”

“That’s not at all what I said.”

“Well, it’s what you’re implying.”

“I just want you to talk to me, to fight for us. That’s all I want.” You rest your elbows on the kitchen counter, placing your head on the palms of your hands, feeling tears soak them.

Lewis shakes his head, leaving the kitchen. You don’t know where he is going, you don’t make an effort to follow him this time. He’s losing you, and he isn't stopping his life to make you stay or even watch you go.

You want him to choose you, you’re right there with him for all of his fights, always on the front line. You never hesitate to bleed for him, yet he does not risk anything. It seems unfathomable that the man you hoped to never lose, actually lost you. It seemed like so long ago when you believed forever was the direction your relationship would take, he changed and you unfortunately stayed the same.

You hear his footsteps near you, but you don’t lift your head to look at him. Not when you know that if you do you’ll truly break, you’ll have to say goodbye to years of memories, you’ll have to walk away once and for all.

You’re shocked when you feel him wrap his arms around your waist, his chest pressed against your back. You don’t tense at the touch, you would never, there isn't an ounce of you that doesn't crave all of the contact lost between you. It’s all you've wanted lately, yet it doesn't change a thing. He walked out a long time ago, and now you have to do the same.

“This won’t work, Lewis.”

“I know.”

“I gave it my all, you know?” You whisper, and you feel him press a kiss to the side of your neck, but there are no longer butterflies when he does so, just a broken heart that won't start for him anymore. Your heart was glass, and he dropped it.

“I know you did.” He whispers back.

You want to ask him, if he wished he would’ve put up more of a fight, but you don't think you could deal with the silence after. You know it’s not you, that it’s him, that despite all your faults loving him was never one.

And you’ll try to forget about it. Try to pretend you will find someone who will be equal to Lewis, but you’ll remain right where he left you. And you won’t talk about it, just act like it’s for the best. But it would’ve been fun if he would've been the one.

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hurrl · 1 month

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🥩🍓 Woolgathering and Squirrels in my pants

S TO THE I TO THE M TO THE P 🕺

🥩 (steak) - Does your oc have any coping mechanisms? Healthy or unhealthy?

Wolfgang: His coping mechanism is violence. And like... are we surprised. A white man with some anger issues 🫢 in other news, grass is green 🙄 Usually will take out whatever issues he has on whatever captive is there at the moment, but like no this man has been known to punch doors and walls like a giant man baby. It's NOT healthy and he's cringe

Squirrel: Her coping mechanism is to just keep herself busy! With anything! There's no time to feel those BIIIIG feelings is she's always preoccupied with something. Maybe it's work, or her band, or taking care of her cat, or running her tree climbing blog! The girl doesn't stay still! Which is better than just sitting around wallowing, right??

🍓 (strawberry) - Does your oc believe in anything? Are they superstitious? Religious? Atheistic? Has anything in their past made them this way?

Wolfgang: HE IS THE ALPHA AND THE OMEGA- yeah no he just follows his own personal philosophy which is that SOCIETY SUCKS, and you know him he's chill he's cool and all his friends and family get a pass 😌 BUT PEOPLE ARE SHIT 😡and he's killing people for a higher purpose, they don't contribute anything but like... pain or whatever to the world (this boy don't know 🙄)

Other than that he belives in other supernatural creatures as he is one himself

Squirrel: She's a skeptic of anything spiritual. She likes to joke around and lean into things like ghost and demons and horoscopes for laughs, but that just isn't her style. She just believes in people and the world around them. It's whatever anyone decides to make of it.

#WOLFGANG SUCKS #WOLFGANG SUUUUCKS #everyday i make him a little worse #and SQUIRREL IS SO COOL #love herrrr #ask #ask game #wolfgang stefka #marissa squirrel schauer

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torawro · 11 months

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the way i’m slowly and extremely gradually treating my blog like my diary or just like….instagram or something is becoming increasingly concerning to me by the day. i just post and rb a bunch of stuff that i like or supporting other creators on here or screaming about my thoughts (that have so much range by the way). uncontrollable venting under the cut .

TLDR -> i am in my feelings and im feeling sad and wallowing in self loathing things because i want to write so so bad all the time but there are so many other factors discourage me from doing so, like im not good enough because i don’t publish things enough, & not many people read anything i write anyway

<\3

i really am trying not to hate myself because another 2-ish months have passed since the last time i have posted a fic, but it is so so hard not to. SO HARD. mutuals are doing kinktober events left, right and center, other moots post fics and blurbs as easy as sending a 5 sentence text and here i am. envious of them all. rereading and proofreading and staring at the same drafts i have had in my google docs for weeks. months, even!

i just get discouraged coming on here sometimes. it’s not that i don’t have the motivation to write because i do— i really do. i have so so many ideas that i want to share with everyone and my writing style keeps evolving and it makes me want to experiment with different tropes with my favs and see how well i can execute them. but the actual doing it….finding the time and trying to balance is just :( sob. it’s hard.

i internally cringe and silently scold myself at the wips i have and remembering how at the time i created them i was so excited to write them but then never finished for one reason or another. abandoned series make me sad :/ i feel guilt when people talk to me about how much they liked a headcanon i did and how i promised to expand on it, or multichap series i only posted the prologue and first chapter over a year ago. guilt bc i want to write everything but just can’t and i’m still struggling to accept that.

and in the process of struggling with this fact it turns into a self loathing cycle that then turns into disappointment when interactions on my writing pieces are low and have become stagnant, and the pieces are 4+ months old or something, and it’s like will i become irrelevant if i don’t post something soon? i have nothing new to offer at the moment, all the ideas im excited about and i have a feeling people will like im still working on or in the brainstorming phase so im like what do i do? idk. then i just close the app.

don’t even get me started on how admiration at just how good other people write makes me feel awful about my own writing…..

anyway sorry for boring you with my feelings but yeah :,) maybe i should stop being so hard on myself

if u read this far then….wow. thanks for listening 🤍

#ʬʬ.sosa speaks.com #sorry this turned into a serious ugly emotional rant and #i am sorry #sigh #i could have gone into a lot more detail with other things that make me feel bad and discouraged #but maybe another time #anyway.#im gonna watch some anime

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hannahmanderr · 1 year

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DannyMay Day 21 - Shatter

Words: 2,132

Summary: What if it had never been Danny's choice to lose his powers in Phantom Planet? (PP AU)

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Tucker glanced anxiously at Sam. “Are you gonna knock?”

She scoffed, but it was half-hearted at best. “It’s Danny, when have we ever knocked to come in?”

“Then, why aren’t you going in?” he retorted, raising an eyebrow. He could call her bluff far too easily like this, when she donned her bravado to hide her own anxiety.

Still, he couldn’t blame her. These waters were treacherous, and they were some that the three of them had never thought they would cross. He knew perfectly well that she didn’t know how to approach the situation (a rarity for someone as confident as Sam Manson), but it was because he felt the exact same way.

After knowing Danny for more than a decade, he figured he was prepared to help his best friend through anything. Really, the three of them knew each other backwards and forwards; usually so well to the point where they would absolutely blow everyone out of the water during those “dating game” ice-breaker things they would do at camps and such. So it wasn’t normal for him - for either of them - to feel so far out of their depth that they didn’t know what to do or say.

As far as he could remember, he and Sam had only found themselves in this same situation once - back during the first couple of weeks after Danny had the accident that made him half-ghost. After all, what are you supposed to say to comfort your friend when they die? It’s not like either of them could relate.

It’s not like either of us can relate now, he thought quietly. He had no idea how to put himself in Danny’s shoes, especially after going through this most recent situation.

He exhaled shakily and, without thinking, grabbed Sam’s hand. Normally, she’d recoil from the physical contact, but she gripped his hand back like it was her lifeline. Their eyes met, and the unspoken message was there. We do it together.

They both gave a curt nod, and then Sam carefully edged Danny’s door open.

“Danny?” she called quietly into the dark room. “You in here?”

“Jazz said you’d be here, and I don’t think she’d lie to us,” Tucker joked nervously. He couldn’t help it; he was the kind of guy that needed any humor he could get when dealing with a heavy situation.

Danny was, in fact, in his room, sitting at his desk with the curtains drawn and the lights off. He had his star-studded comforter draped over his head and wrapped tightly around his shoulders. A couple of half-eaten Chinese takeout containers and empty Mountain Dew bottles cluttered his desk, though his laptop still sat open in front of him with some Nat Geo documentary on Saturn playing quietly.

Tucker did his best to avoid cringing as he remembered the encounter with Vlad a week or two ago that Danny had told them about - some sort of fight over the Infi-Map on the outer rings of Saturn. Naturally, he and Sam hadn’t been able to go, what with their human needs like warmth and oxygen. He wondered if it was really the best idea for him to be wallowing in things that would remind him of Vlad, considering what had happened.

When Danny heard them enter, he turned. Dark, heavy bags weighed under his eyes, and his skin looked chalkier than normal. Still, he managed to muster a frail smile for his friends. “Hey guys,” he said hoarsely.

“Hey Danny,” Sam replied. “We just - well, we haven’t heard from you since… you know…”

“We just wanted to check in on you,” Tucker picked up when Sam trailed off.

Danny’s eyes pierced through them like knives, but the look wasn’t one of anger or accusation. Slowly, he nodded and flicked his eyes to the side. “Jazz told you what happened then…” he said, his voice quiet.

“And we’re glad she did,” Sam said as she sat on the edge of Danny’s bed. Tucker took a seat beside her. “We’re worried about you. We had no idea Vlad had figured out how to do something like that.”

“Me neither,” Danny muttered. He pulled his knees up to his chest, making him look even smaller. “I just… it’s…”

The room fell into an uneasy silence. As Tucker kept careful eyes on both Sam and Danny, he chewed his lip. Frankly, he’d expected more pushback from Danny. He loved his best friend to death, but he knew he could be a bit of a stubborn jerk sometimes. And sometimes, Stubborn Jerk Danny liked to try and put up walls of defense between himself and the people worried about him.

This was an entirely different Danny, though. This Danny was devoid of hope and life, as though someone had come in and sucked all his vitality away.

(It wasn’t too far off from what had really happened, all things considered.)

Danny sighed and buried his chin into his knees. “I don’t have some sort of plan to fix it, if that’s what you wanted to hear,” he said. “It’s just… It’s over guys.”

“Don’t say that!” Sam insisted. “There’s no way… I mean, he can’t have actually done it, can he?”

Danny only held one of his hands in front of his face and stared at it intently. Tucker got the feeling something was supposed to be happening - invisibility, intangibility, anything - but the hand stubbornly refused to change.

As the seconds ticked by, Danny’s face grew stormier until he finally shouted in exasperation and let his hand fall. “See? It’s like I said. I’ve been trying to get it to do something, anything for days now and nothing. It’s all gone. I can’t even feel -” he stopped abruptly and swallowed thickly, holding a fist over his sternum. Tucker couldn’t hide the wince this time; he knew what Danny was referring to, and if he wasn’t feeling it at all…

“There has to be something left,” Sam said. Desperation was starting to creep into her voice, and the blankets on Danny’s bed began to bunch up under her grip. “Even when you split yourself, it was never a clean split! There was always something left!”

Danny’s eyes were fixed on a pair of jeans lying haphazardly on the floor, but they were distant. He shook his head absently. “We tried, me and Jazz,” he whispered. “We even looked at a bit of my blood, and it’s… normal. No ectoplasm or anything.”

At this point, Sam looked like she was about to cry, which shook Tucker almost as much as Danny’s news. “Dude, I… I’m so sorry,” he said, not sure what else to say. He’d been at a similar loss for words more than a year ago, when part of Danny had died in that portal.

What could he say now that Danny had un-died?

“And because the portal was shut down, he was able to destroy it,” Danny was saying. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to get to Frostbite, or Clockwork, or someone, I don’t care if it’s the freaking Box Ghost. I need…”

“I’m gonna kill him,” Sam growled. “He’s a sick, twisted little -”

“Whatever you’re gonna say,” Danny interrupted, “Jazz has probably already said it for you. The only reason she didn’t try to tear Vlad apart when he did it is because she didn’t know if he’d just actually killed me or not.”

“Then I’ll tell everyone! What’s he gonna do, spill your secret? I could call down to Station 7 right now and -”

“Tell them what? What proof do we have?” Tucker surprised himself with his interruption. Judging by Sam and Danny’s wide eyes, they’d been caught off guard too. “He can just deny it, and he still has other ways to get back at Danny.”

“I don’t care! He’ll have to get through me first!” Sam shouted. “I can’t believe you’re saying we should just lie down and take this!”

Tucker frowned. “Do not start with that. I didn’t say anything like that; you’re putting words in my mouth again! I’m just… trying to be realistic.”

“Okay, fine, but ‘realistic’ doesn’t mean there’s nothing we can do!” Sam jumped to her feet and pointed an accusatory finger at Tucker. “I get that you’re trying to temper expectations or whatever, but you can’t just shut things down like that!”

“Like what? I said one thing! And you just started jumping down my throat!”

“Well maybe if you’d let me finish my sentence, you -”

“Enough!” Danny thundered, startling his two arguing friends into silence.

Well, it was part of the reason they fell so immediately quiet.

In his anger and desperation to stop them arguing, Danny had sprung out of his seat when he shouted, and in the process, the comforter which had been so tightly wrapped around his head and shoulders fell in a heap at his feet. Without the blanket, Tucker and Sam could see where his head had originally been covered, and what they saw stunned them just as much as his outburst.

A pure, jagged bolt of white streaked through his black hair. It started somewhere towards the back of his skull, where the hair began to sweep forward instead of down, emerging like a shooting star through a night sky. It followed the contour of his hair and into his bangs, falling just to the side of his left eye.

Sam was the first to react. She gingerly reached forward and laid a gentle touch to the white streak. Danny flinched when he realized what the two of them had seen, but he still allowed her to get close.

“Oh Danny…” she whispered, her voice thick and devoid of all the heat it’d held just moments before.

“Oh my God,” Tucker muttered. A wave of dizziness and nausea swept over him. For some reason, Danny’s loss, his trauma hadn’t truly hit him until he saw the awful reminder of what had once been. Now, seeing the aftermath of Vlad’s cruelty, the impacts nearly overwhelmed him.

Danny Phantom was gone. Danny Fenton was left, broken beyond recognition.

Danny wrapped his arms around himself. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Tears prickled in the corners of his eyes. “I can’t… I-I’m just…”

In one motion, Sam swept him into a tight hug. Tucker was an instant behind her. Danny started, but then sniffed and leaned into their embrace. Seconds later, he broke down entirely and sobbed into Sam’s shoulder. The sound broke Tucker’s heart clean in half.

He didn’t know how long they stood like that, him and Sam holding onto Danny’s weeping form like they’d lose him if they let go. At some point, he didn’t know when, they’d moved to their knees, and Tucker draped the comforter around the three of them. Eventually, as Danny’s cries tapered off, they found themselves in some sort of three-person pile. Danny had his head in Sam’s lap, and she combed her fingers through his hair gently. Tucker pressed himself against Danny’s back and rested his cheek against Sam’s shoulder.

As they laid there, Tucker couldn’t tear his eyes away from that cursed streak. The way it rippled and parted around Sam’s fingers only reinforced the fact that this wasn’t some nightmare they would just wake up from. Vlad really had found a way to forcibly revert Danny’s half-ghost status. And now…

Danny’s cries died into hiccups and sniffles. A heavy silence fell around the three of them, only broken when Sam placed a hand against his cheek and whispered, “Hey.” Watery blue eyes looked up and backwards to meet her own; she made eye contact with Tucker too before speaking again.

“We’re right here, Danny. We’re not going anywhere.” Her voice was tender yet firm with the sincerity of her words. Tucker reinforced them by taking Danny’s hand and squeezing it. “We’re gonna get through this, Phantom or not. We don’t care what it takes or how long.”

Tucker could tell by the look in Danny’s eyes that he wanted to smile back and thank them, but he couldn’t muster enough to do so. Instead, he closed his eyes and relaxed further into their loving touch. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” he whispered.

The moment was interrupted by the harsh jangle of Tucker’s PDA ringtone. Cursing under his breath, he pulled it out of his pocket. “I forgot I still have news alerts turned on,” he said as he swiped to open the notification. Both Danny and Sam craned their necks to see as Tiffany Snow’s face loaded onto the screen.

“We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news from NASA and the Department of Defense. A major asteroid, originating from Saturn’s orbit, has been forecasted to make direct impact with Earth…”

#danny phantom #dannymay #dannymay2023 #dannymay 2023 #tucker foley #sam manson #danny phantom fanfic #hannah writes #danny phantom au #whoops i tried to write angst

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sepublic · 2 years

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Honestly, I just… Feel BAD for Belos at this point. He’s easily the most pitiable character in the entire show, Philip Wittebane has probably suffered more than anyone else, in a way that is 100% deserved, karmic, that he totally brought on himself and can’t blame anyone or anything else for. Belos has just been constantly wallowing in this cold bitterness for the vast majority of his existence, been defined by it; He’s like freaking Ebenezer Scrooge.

Philip’s so lonely and desperate for validation that it’ll make him act stupid around Luz as he latches onto her for validation, even as poor Luz cringes because she does NOT want this guy, she didn’t ask for him, but at the same time she has to humor Philip’s pathetic delusions for the sake of everyone else. Thinking you’re better than everyone else, that they’re all lowly and subhuman, is inevitably an isolating experience.

And like! He very easily COULD have companionship, he has an entire SOCIETY and its generations fawning at his feet. But he refuses it, because it doesn’t match Philip’s arbitrary criteria. It’s such a sad waste, really. He wants a playmate and best friend, but under a VERY specific set of circumstances, in his own way, and it’s just… As Eda said, you sometimes just gotta step out and make your own family with what you have, instead of waiting and expecting it; Even IF it’s technically destiny for Philip to have another human ‘friend’ show up.

Is that part of his unhealthy obsession with Luz? She’s a human who helped him back when he was Philip, and even after centuries as Belos, she still didn’t fail to return to him after all that time and effort. It could’ve fed his delusions that Caleb would do the same. Belos is a manchild who misses and longs for his older brother to take care of him like before, and he’s throwing a tantrum over the loss. He wants a replacement, but on his own specific terms, because any other way would acknowledge that he can’t go back to the way things were, and isn’t that something we can all relate to? But even as he does everything to keep things the same or restore them, perform damage control, it just keeps getting worse.

He’s so clearly insecure, needling Luz for approval and validation from a peer. He’s like playdough in the palm of her hands under the right circumstances, look at how she makes Philip feel self-conscious over his fit! He knows and suspects that the world has changed, he’s collected the human garbage over the years, no doubt as some twisted form of sentimentality. The false vision he gives the Coven Heads proves that he’s aware of modern architecture. But maybe that’s just a SURFACE-level change, right?

He’s “How do you do fellow kids” but also to humans because he’s realizing he’s out of touch with THEM too, he’s become so lonely his monstrous form is symbolic, losing for himself what he sought for in others; So yet another thing he’s missed, a specific definition of humanity, is gone too. Belos wants to be told he’s still doing the “human” thing correctly even as he becomes something very much not.

Philip just flips back and forth between so easily vulnerable in his desperation, to frighteningly dangerous and petulant when he doesn’t get what he wants after sacrificing and prostrating himself; It must be terrifying, being on the receiving end of someone who places so much faith and responsibility as a burden on your shoulders, the pressure! He really is like the Collector, more than he’d like to admit. And now that cursed mirror of his, reflected in a literal mirror, has taken everything from him; As did Luz, playing into Belos’ insecurities, it must be utterly humiliating.

All in a way he brought on himself, of course; He CHOSE to project onto poor Luz, convinced himself he was her Eda, her jaded older mentor who finds a kid to adopt and teach, even as she fills the emptiness in his heart left by his forsaken older sibling, lost to the wrong cause. She PLAYED him, how could Luz be so cruel, Philip feels so bad for his poor self and wants to curl up and cry! Eda sometimes acted a bit rash in wanting to impress Luz for her approval, but this…!

It’s like he’s being punished for opening up, exposing his own soft spots in the process to someone he expects to be tender with, and then shuts himself up again once hurt; Because NEVER again, he just gets more and more embittered and cynical, more certain of the world as this cruel place that’s targeting HIM specifically. He rejects humans and thus his own humanity in the process. First Caleb, then the Grimwalkers, now Luz…

And now, Philip’s back home, and it’s all changed, the original idyllic vision that he depended on. It’s all been for nothing. Philip has tortured himself with the transformations, the mutations, and it’s all for nothing. Everyone loves Halloween and witches now. His home is unrecognizable to himself, as is he. He’s gone from a human to a drop of green goop. He’s become the feared cryptid monster alluded to in bedtime stories, the one Caleb would’ve protected him from. Philip’s been through so much mourning and agony over Caleb, over his idyllic and nostalgic childhood. I can’t imagine the physical agony as Philip rebuilt himself, wanting to scream but not allowing himself to remain hidden.

At this point, I HOPE he dies; Not because I’m sick of his character. But because it’d be a mercy killing. With all of his pain and agony and unsustainable wishes, with the childish and naïve certainty that he’s right, leaping at the chance to be told he’s right, the worn-down feeling over the years… For all my scorn, I also feel sympathy for the devil. He’s like Senator Armstrong, despicable but also legitimately hurt, he just wants this stupid world to make sense!

I hope that in death, Philip Wittebane can finally find the peace he’s been searching for, the rest he’s agonized and longed for over lifetimes beyond what any human should endure, amidst the green, green grass of home. There just isn’t any other course for this sad, tormented soul, beyond some blissful ignorance and denial in his dying visions of Caleb accepting him in the afterlife, having made it to heaven after all thanks to Philip’s timely intervention, having been shown the light after all! He DID save Caleb, they can be together, are you proud of me Caleb…?

I fucking LOVE villains with very human grief and loneliness who also totally brought this on themselves and are just so desperately deluded and isolated in their denial, in their futile coping by throwing themselves against this unsustainable idea, just the most PITIABLE and pathetic fucker ever. Still clinging because they’ll have nothing left if they let go. Philip is a sobbing child, kicking and screaming and burping because someone was mean to him, hurt his feelings and took his favorite toy away.

The world is always revolving around HIM and HIS comfort, so Pip can’t comprehend how anyone could be mean to him because he’s like the Main Character or something. He can’t understand that other people have their own lives and needs and wants outside of him, as Caleb did; It drives him MAD. He can’t keep living like this, with this shattered innocence and realization, and hopefully Philip won’t have to anymore. Not by living denial, because that clearly hasn’t worked across centuries of trial and error, chances; But with ignorant death. What a disturbing dude, not just to us but even himself.

It’s funny. Philip convinced himself of a recognition of the self in the other (affectionate) in Luz, while desperately ignoring the recognition of the self in the other (derogatory) in the Collector, whom he’s spent more time with than anyone else. I suppose a kid who truly reminds himself of who he really is would be the worst, because seeing another Main Character like you just hammers in that you’re not THE Main Character if others are; You’re not special if others feel the same as you. Empathy is the worst idea ever to a racist colonizer, imagine.

#the owl house #philip wittebane #emperor belos #character analysis

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siennasfix · 5 months

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Pareidolia

Chapter 4 "Uneven pressure"

*****

<<<Chapter 3 Chapter 5>>>

Trigger warnings: 1. Child torture 2. Child experimentation 3. Strangling 4. Bullying

The demigods watched and listened intently as Y/n, nervous under their scrutiny, stuttered her way through sentences. Even Yeonjun, who seldom missed out on an opportunity to put her in her place, kept his mouth shut and leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed against his chest. Somehow it made her even more anxious to speak. As if their silence was but the calm before the storm of insults and accusations.

When she trailed off in the middle of the sentence, Minho leaned forward to get her attention. “Did she tell you what the nightmare was about? Other than Juliana and Ruth being butchered.”

Y/n nodded and Beomgyu immediately asked, “Did she recognize the culprit?”

This time, she shook her head and Minho spoke again. “Don’t you think they would’ve reported it if they knew? If she’d told Y/n?”

“Hard to say.” Beomgyu shrugged. “She’s an old blood.”

The delivery was so matter-of-fact that it had her looking up from her empty bowl, frowning. Their tendency to assume the worst of her character and abilities when they hadn’t even exchanged a word before she started living with them pissed her off beyond belief. It distressed her to know that Minho’s only objective was to extract a confession out of her. All the while, Hwang and Yeonjun spectated with looks carved from a rock.

“So what?” Beomgyu’s face remained inexpressive, neither taunting nor defensive, as she spewed out the words. “You think we want you dead or something?”

Beomgyu shrugged that off as well. Whatever Y/n said in her defense could only be taken as pitiful excuses to save herself. Her ill reputation preceded her.

From the corner of her eye, she spied Hwang planting his elbows on the table.

“She doesn’t know what the culprit looks like. And you’re right.” He looked straight at her, unflinching, “She wouldn’t have reported it.”

Again, Y/n felt that she must try to change their opinion of her. “You can’t know that.”

“I know you’re afraid.” He stated and the surety of his tone caused her to cringe in shame. He allowed her a few seconds to wallow in it, less as an act of mercy than an opportunity to pick her apart a vulture did with carrion, before continuing, “But there’s something else you’re not telling us.��

Looking down into her bowl again, Y/n swallowed. “No, there’s nothing else.”

It was the wrong thing to say apparently. Or maybe it was the way she was so intent on avoiding his gaze that gave her away. Either way, Hwang didn’t believe a word she said, and neither did the rest of them, Minho included.

Like a lake frozen from the surface to the bed, his voice bore no ripples as he warned, “I will get it out of you regardless.”

Y/n almost shot up from her seat, ready to scurry into the nearest corner.

“You can’t torture me.”

Hwang titled his head. “Oh, really?”

“If you could, you would have already.” Y/n pushed on defiantly, pain webbing throughout her hand from where her fingers dug into her thighs. “You wouldn’t have waited for me to tell you all this.”

At that, he hummed and then shrugged. “Maybe I’ve been feeling generous.”

She tried to stare back at him, to defy him in some small measure, but Hwang, Y/n realized, had been moulded for a world that wasn’t for her eyes to perceive, and should she dare to try, she would have to lose an eye. That was how it felt to challenge him; like having your eyes gauged out for the audacity. She wondered if he kept the memories of other people’s submission with him as a good luck charm.

“It has nothing to do with Juliana and Ruth.” She said in a gasping attempt to dissuade him from pressing the matter. Might as well have tried convincing ice to not be water.

The legs of a chair screeched against the floor. Minho, the only one who mothered to use persuasive means, now sat closer.

“Tell us.” He urged her. “No matter how irrelevant you think it is.”

Something about how Minho said it, the permission to carry on with what others would consider absolute rubbish, chipped away at her reluctance. She could be sure that at the very least he would refrain from painting her as a dimwitted creature.

She’d seen him interact with other people, playing pranks on them, lampooning them when he thought their actions rash, never hesitating to clap back when it was called for, but toward her, Minho was nothing if not patient and forgiving. Perhaps it was her ignorance of the world’s treasures such as delicious food, the internet, slang, jokes, trends, items of various kinds, and the list went on. Maybe he simply considered her not to be worth more of his energy than he was obliged to expend by the authorities. What she knew for certain was that he placed duty to his people high on his list of priorities and being tolerant of her ignorance was the way to fulfill it.

“There was a man.” Though she was no longer reluctant to divulge, her voice still maintained that rickety quality. It couldn’t improve her credibility. “When I went into the forest searching for Luna, I found her by a stream with a man. He gave her a flower and when I thanked him for looking after her he said it was me he’d been waiting to talk to. He said,” She shut her eyes, trying to relay the man’s message verbatim, “He said to tell the wretched vermin not to be so awfully stingy.”

Only once she was done, did Y/n realize she’d been facing Minho the entire time, even before she’d begun her rant. So, when she opened her eyes, it was his she was staring into, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She never could tell what others were thinking, save for when their revulsion was so visceral it showed in the lines of their face like carvings on an ancient tomb. Right now, Y/n wished she could understand him better, that Minho would reassure her in some way, however small.

A scoff of irritation quickly caught her attention.

“You were right,” Yeonjun said. “That is irrelevant to the main issue.”

The blood rushed to her face. “Well, you wanted to know.”

“And he wanted to speak with you specifically.” He mocked her tone while making a face. “Don’t you find that odd?”

Beomgyu, whose plate was now cleared of its contents, surprised her by cutting in impatiently.

“Was it someone you’d seen before?” Curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “Someone you know?”

“I don’t think that was a someone… rather a something.” A sense of unease crawled into her and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “His clothes were too pristine for the environment, and he spoke as if he knew me; as if he’d known I’d be coming to him. It was like he looked down on everything here.”

“Could it be he lives in the forest?” Minho asked but even though his body was facing hers the question wasn’t aimed solely at her. He was asking everyone at the table to complete the puzzle.

Feeling cornered once again, Y/n glanced back and forth between him and the rest. “I don’t think so. He vanished right after he told me to relay that message.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Hwang asserted. “The forest spans for miles. He could’ve just teleported into another area.”

Beomgyu, ever so eager to get to the bottom of this, looked at the others with an almost pleading look. “Do you think it’s worth taking a look?”

Unsurprisingly, Yeonjun’s face crumpled in distaste at the prospect of having to fight his way through the accursed forest while Minho tipped his chin at Hwang and the latter shrugged as he rose from his seat and took his plate to the sink.

Minho wasn’t on dish duty tonight so she wasn’t sure if they’d like her to help. Before everyone could carry on with their evening activities Y/n plucked up the courage to ask if she could go with them.

The glare Yeonjun shot her as he buttoned up his jacket was nothing if not acidic. Maybe he thought it would cleanse him of the filth that was the sight of her before him.

“To do what?” He jeered. “Be a deadweight?”

Y/n pointed her index at him. “Do you know what he looks like? Can you be sure you’d recognize him if you saw him? He could be a shapeshifter for all we know.”

“In that case, you’d be just as useless as the rest of us, stupid.”

“I can understand the shadows.” She argued her point, hoping to at least convince Beomgyu who was lounging on the sofa playing games on his phone, and Hwang who considered her a liability in terms of combat skills. If she succeeded, it would be the two of them against Yeonjun. “They might be able to pick up on his energy or presence or whatever better than all of us combined.”

“Y/n, you can’t go with them.”

Just like that, her attempt to sway them was in vain. Minho didn’t mince his words when it came to the guidelines of his part in this process, one of them being that she was to abstain from roaming the fields, visiting the altars, catacombs, wandering inside the forest; basically any other place considered to boast profound cultural significance aside from Olympia University. Even that small mercy was more for Minho’s sake than concern for her education or wellbeing.

Desperation nibbled at her patience. “But if I can’t do anything and they can’t either then what use was it talking to you about it?”

Minho approached her and, placing his hand between her shoulder blades, led her upstairs.

“It’s worth it because now we have an alibi of sorts.” He turned on the light in her bedroom. “Luna was with you, and she couldn’t have killed Juliana or Ruth. And if that’s not an alibi, then at least it’s a confession.” He paused, searching for something in her gaze. Perhaps a hint that she understood what he was getting at. “You have a chance to see Luna again.”

Y/n lowered her gaze to the blue rug past the threshold and turned her back to him. All she mumbled in response was a resigned ‘okay’, and a few seconds later the door clicked shut.

******************************************************************************************

The first rays of dawn barely just cracked the night when Minho had turned on the light without so much as a good morning to tell her that she was to partake in the collective training for second and third years. With eyelids weighed down by lack of sleep and exhaustion, it was all Y/n could do to pretend that she was at least a bit excited to stand alongside her peers here at the foot of the Berkley Hills. It was to be her first time after all.

First-years were granted the small mercy of being trained and evaluated separately. On the other hand, the fourth and fifth years were subjected to rigorous training in preparation for the Argenti Legio, commonly referred to as the ARL, the final exam that determined their rank in the legion before they were eventually elevated to the AUL, Aureus Legio. She’d heard it was grueling and the written records detailed that ever since the treaty between Camp Half-blood and Jupiter had been signed more than three centuries prior the deceased demigods numbered in the thousands, with a yearly mortality rate of approximately 37%. Small wonder the instructors were ruthless in their approach.

Yet, as she stood there, barely able to contain her shivers, Y/n wondered why she had to become part of this. Why now that she was to be locked up for good? What was the point in keeping up the pretense of being part of the collective when she wouldn’t even get the chance to compete in the ARL? She really would rather have stayed in her bedroom, just as immersed in the third part of the book Professor Hajjar had gifted her as she had been way into the early hours of the morning. Granted, it wasn’t a solution. It did nothing but facilitate her escape from reality. Still, Y/n preferred it.

She was further convinced of it when a silhouette identical to all the rest thanks to the standard black uniform waded through the crowd to stand before her, sinewy and dignified.

Shin Ryujin, commander of the Rubeus Squadron, regarded her as one would a misplaced sock. “You shouldn’t be here.”

Y/n kicked at a small rock. “I don’t want to be here.”

“You won’t last five minutes.”

Was that necessary? Sure, Y/n stuck out like a sore thumb with her emaciated frame and lack of training. But it wasn’t as if she enjoyed freezing her ass off here with the only prospect being of embarrassing herself in front of people whom she knew to be incredibly eager to see her fail. Surrounded by the rest of her peers, Y/n felt humbled.

It took everything for Y/n to look Shin Ryujin in the eye and not pounce on her like a feral animal. For the past two weeks, whenever her thoughts would stray to her, all Y/n could see was an executioner.

“I guess you’ll just have to carry me out of here when I pass out.”

The young commander didn’t find that funny, her expression a replica of her mother’s. “Optimistic enough to think anyone will bother.”

Y/n didn’t find this unwanted exchange all that amusing either.

“Leave me here to rot then.” She said, meeting each word tit for tat.

If it weren’t for the fingers curling around the dagger, Y/n would have thought Shin Ryujin unaffected. The latter, catching on the fact that she’d noticed, strode the way she’d come from.

Not five seconds later, Minho joined her with a bottle of water in hand, leaning against the marble pillar just a few shades lighter than his sweatpants as he watched her find comfort in the engravings on the ceiling. The enormous structure was a marvel. Especially since she’d never been permitted access to these grounds before.

Minho removed the cap and handed her the bottle. “Can’t imagine she was anything but condescending?”

“You know her personally?” Y/n asked and took a sip of water.

“Not quite.” He loosened the zipper of his black jersey. “She’s three years my junior and a daughter of a war goddess of Rome, one that doesn’t often mingle with humans. That comes with a certain status, especially when you’re as skilled as she is.” A pensive frown. “But I never imagined she’d go as far as to interact with you outside of her duties as a leader of the Third Cohort and commander.”

Y/n swiped her knuckles across her mouth, wiping off excess water. “Neither did I.”

A bellowing sound reverberated throughout the grounds. It left her stomach feeling hollow as if her breakfast had been swallowed by whatever instrument had produced it. Y/n held onto Minho’s sleeve and in return, he helped her straighten up; she hadn’t noticed she’d been slouching and bending her knees as if to brace herself for a fall.

“I’d tell you not to try too hard but-

“I know. Professor Hajjar says it is imperative that I try to blend in.” It was embarrassing to hear the anxiety in her voice as well as the desperation and resentment that lingered once the phrase was uttered. “I just wish I could speak with him. Why won’t he just-

Minho cut her off by placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her down the steps. “There’s no time for that right now. They’re lining up. Go stand next to Hyunjin.”

“You’re not staying?”

It was even more embarrassing to hear the need for reassurance. She was certain so could Minho. She’d hoped that his guard duty would somehow oblige him to join her, forgetting that Hwang could effectively take over in his stead.

He peered down at her through long lashes before patting her on the shoulder. “Try your best.”

Y/n looked at where Hwang and Beomgyu stood, the former glancing their way as the latter yapped on, and asked him him to help her secure the bottle on her thigh, using the straps that came with the uniform. She bid him goodbye and joined Hwang and Beomgyu, situating herself between the two per Minho’s instructions. She must have looked so pathetic; a bony young woman and two male demigods who’d spent years breaking and restoring their bodies for combat. Hwang had put up his hair in his usual half-up-half-down style while Beomgyu had let his loose. Just like her, they had water bottles strapped to their thighs.

Hwang spared her a glance. “Keep up.”

“She’s going to die,” Beomgyu blurted out behind her.

Y/n glared at him from the corner of her eye. “I won’t.”

Beomgyu’s laugh wasn’t even derisive, just so fucking annoying.

“You look dead already.”

Y/n decided to ignore him. Nothing good could come out of giving Beomgyu a reaction. Also, there was no time for a back-and-forth as the four instructors took their place on the platform and delivered short speeches, which were just a listing of the rules, scoring system, and safety measures.

The rules would have been easy enough to follow if they didn’t include the part about surrender being forbidden. Participants had to see this through no matter the cost. It meant Y/n would receive the lowest score in decades, if not in all of demigod history.

The scoring system was divided into four parts, as was the training on the whole; strength (25 points), flexibility (25 points), balance (25 points), and endurance (25 points). The only phase of the training she might not absolutely fail at was flexibility; she had made it a rule to stretch in the morning and before bed. Strength was out of the question and so were balance and endurance. She simply didn’t have the adequate muscle mass to perform all the intricate tasks adequately. There was also the matter of the tracker injection. It felt weird to have something pistoned in instead of it being siphoned out.

As for the safety measures, Minho had already seen to it that she was provided with knee and elbow braces, a water bottle, a packet of sterile gauze, and a flat tiny bottle of antiseptic solution that he’d stuffed in one of her thigh pockets in case something happened. Something was bound to happen.

The trials began and they were excruciating. Strength was the worst of them as Y/n just was no match for Hwang Yeji, the demigod she was pitted against. Hammer throwing was impossible; it didn’t budge no matter how much energy she exerted. The following tasks⸺ rope and net climbing, pull-ups, etc⸺ in this phase were just as much a breeding ground for humiliation. Nothing changed when it came to flexibility and balance. She was tossed around, plummeted from not being able to adjust her footing on the ropes, and might have pulled a muscle overdoing it during the acrobatics part.

She should have just accepted a score of zero instead of standing there absorbing the shame each time Hwang helped her to her feet.

After a particularly nasty fall, he looked down at her. His words from the training session came to mind then; pitiful, weak, not worthy of being considered prey. Y/n knew she’d have to finish the last phase of the trials on her own, without him there to act as her disgruntled coach, rolling his eyes whenever she failed pathetically. He didn’t have to say out loud for her to understand that much. Also, she hadn’t the energy to beg him to be there for her, as desperate as she was.

As soon as one of the instructors blew the horn, the endurance trials commenced. It consisted of running through the woods to reach an area similar to this one. The instructors informed them of the distance (25 miles uphill north) and that the trackers in their bodies would monitor their heart rate, speed, body composition, and levels of cortisol among other things. Heart rate and body composition didn’t affect the score but speed and cortisol levels did. Y/n knew she was doomed to receive a pathetic score either way.

Something was wrong from the very beginning. An acidic substance bubbled up to her throat. It had her coughing and her fingers itched to rub it off from the inside. In a matter of minutes, the sons and daughters of Hermes and Mercury put miles of distance between them and the rest despite the terrain being slippery from the days of incessant downpour.

All of the students would have to scrub their bodies raw, especially the ones who tumbled face-first into the mud. Y/n managed to grab onto a branch to prevent that. That wasn’t to say she wasn’t looking downright filthy. Her hands, legs, and elbows were caked with mud and leaves. But that wasn’t her greatest concern. The burning itch in her throat persisted until it eventually turned into nausea and stomach pain. Her vision turned foggy and she could no longer tell if she was looking at demigods stumbling uphill or weirdly-shaped logs.

When she’d finally shed every ounce of energy and the pangs of pain became unbearable she decided to search around for a trunk to lie against. She thought she’d found her temporary sanctuary but was just a trick her impaired vision had played on her. Y/n sucked in a breath as the thorns of the brown bush dug into her flesh.

There isn’t much to tell about what happened after that. She slipped and tumbled down a hill. Sludge and needles painted her into a creature from beyond the grave. Similar to that day in the forest, she couldn’t tell right from left, south from north, or east from west. The only thing Y/n could make out was the belching sounds as she threw up and the dust of sunlight filtered through the cloud of green above. The curtains fell shut.

It wasn’t yet noon when she gained consciousness. Her forehead and back of her head throbbed, her skin stung, her neck ached, and her eyelids felt heavy with both mud and exhaustion. Through the haze of her senses, she could tell two people were speaking. None of the words made sense. Maybe they weren’t human. Maybe, she’d finally kicked the bucket and was on her journey across the Styx on Charon’s boat, soul ready for dismemberment.

“… unconscious.”

Fingers rubbed against her cheeks.

“… in vomit.” This voice came from her right instead of above her. “Minho… grill you.”

That name. She knew that name. Lee Minho. Lee Minho. Son of… his hair was a dark brown. Round eyes? Lee Minho. Help. Minho. The name and the cold fingers at her neck, checking her pulse, shocked Y/n into opening her eyes. She looked up then to her left.

“She’s waking up,” Her neck felt bare when the beautiful, long-haired man removed his fingers. She could see the other drawing closer. “Can you hear me?”

As if on cue, she started hyperventilating. It didn’t make sense. Where was Luna? Why was her head on this man’s lap? Had she never left the forest? Had they caught her? Had they gotten their hands on Luna? Why did the man cup her mouth in his palm? Was he trying to suffocate her? Why was the world growing dim when the sun had barely reached its peak? The lights were out once more.

The second time Y/n awoke was in her bedroom. The predominantly blue hues created a soothing ambiance. It also helped that someone had lit up incense sticks and the whole room smelled like lavender and chamomile. As she struggled to get her bearings, rubbing as if to cleanse her vision of filth, a hand pressed against her forehead. That, apparently, was all it took for her to straighten up and take in her surroundings fully.

Minho, who sat at the edge of the bed, removed his hand and watched as she sat up, restless. The memories of today’s events hit her all at once and she was left internally writhing with humiliation, something she tried to cover up by rubbing her hands along her arms, face, and torso.

Minho poured her a glass of water. “I cleaned you up before tucking you in.”

Y/n drained the glass in two seconds.

“Did you bring me here?” She asked, hoping he’d say ‘no’.

He shook his head as she handed him back the glass. “Hyunjin and Beomgyu did.”

That was it. That sent her over the edge. The mere mention of their names amplified the humiliation she had been feeling since the beginning of the trials. Tears came pouring down her cheeks that were so hot it felt as though some of the humiliation had seeped into them, inflicting physical on top of the emotional pain. She couldn’t see Minho as he fished out a packet of napkins from the drawer and handed it to her. Sobbing, Y/n blew into it.

“I told you I wasn’t ready, but you wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t listen.” She whimpered, resenting Minho and Professor Hajjar a little more with each passing second. “Now your friends are going to mock me forever, tell everybody how fucking filthy I am. No one will ever want me near.”

When she started hiccupping Minho poured her another glass of water.

“No one else saw you, and they won’t tell anyone.” He said as she drank it. Then, he set the glass on the nightstand. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Covering her ears, Y/n shook her head so violently that the pain intensified. “But they’ll remind me of it like Yeonjun always does.”

“Yeonjun.”

“He’s always wrinkling his nose, sneering, and telling me how stupid and filthy I am from the very first day. I don’t want to see him or talk to him or do anything in front of him. Every time I say something he makes me regret it.” A smidge of the built-up bile spilled. “I hate it. I hate it so much. And now the other two will act the same.”

Understanding that there was no improving her mood with words alone, Minho decided to change subjects in hopes of redirecting the conversation.

“While I was cleaning you up, I noticed you had little to no hair in your pubic area.” When Minho mentioned he’d cleaned her up, she’d thought more along the lines of him wiping off the vomit. But it made sense that more had to be done, considering she’d been lying in filth for hours before his friends had found her. It didn’t make it any less embarrassing though. “I thought that maybe it was because you just have very thin hair, but your hair is naturally dark and coarse so that’s unlikely.” Minho seemed to be uncomfortable as he asked, “Y/n, do you menstruate?”

Napkin still her hand, Y/n tugged the soft blanket closer to her chest. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“That would be cruel.” Minho chased her fleeting gaze when she looked out the window. “Do you think me cruel, Y/n?”

She flicked her index back and forth, toying with the seam of the blanket. “No, more like a trickster.”

“Courtesy of my heritage.” He remarked jokingly before his tone turned thoughtful. “I won’t pretend that you not menstruating isn’t alarming. You might be sterile. You might not. It’s not like your fertility is for public record. What I do know for sure is that you’re starved.”

This conversation had taken a turn she hadn’t anticipated. Over the years, ever since she’d learned what it meant for a woman to be fertile, there had been times when she’d sat in deep thought. What did it mean to be a mother? What kind of mother would she be if someone desired her enough to procreate with her? Would her existence be accepted if she were to procreate with someone pure? Or would her children inherit the curse of her womb? No old blood had lived long enough to answer any of these questions.

“It doesn’t matter.” She sniffled. “I’m never having children.”

“Doctors might say it matters because your hormones are catastrophically dysregulated. Your body-” He sighed in frustration. “This is why we need Professor Hajjar, why you need to follow the training regimen. Nutritious meals and training will help you gain the weight you need to get your period.”

“I tried. I tried to keep up with the rest of them but they were so much faster, stronger, and resilient.” Y/n fisted the blanket. “Everyone is just better.”

She couldn’t presume to know what Minho was thinking but even he couldn’t counter that. It was a fact that everyone was better than her. They were stronger, had been trained in every discipline there was, and were primed for the battlefield. But it wasn’t just that. By default, their existence was pure and holy. By virtue of not being her, they were loved.

“Let’s have dinner downstairs.” Minho stood and watched her expectantly when she made no effort to follow suit. “We can get ready after. There’s someone waiting to see you.”

Y/n had never stood up faster. She almost passed out.

After they had an early dinner, which Minho insisted was to be consumed slowly so as not to trigger heartburn, he drove them to the CIIL (Criminal Investigation Institute of Learning). It was only 5 miles north of the headquarters, built strategically close to Mount Diablo as it was a sparsely populated region of Camp Jupiter. That wasn’t to say that the drive was over in a matter of minutes. It took them a solid hour and a half to get there, and not a minute passed that Y/n wasn’t chewing on her lower lip, causing the flesh to tear. Minho handed her a napkin when he pulled over at a gas station.

When they finally arrived, Y/n could only wonder at the nature of the research they could be conducting past the gargantuan charcoal grey walls that rose before them. The gates, made of celestial bronze enforced with steel, bore the symbol of Olympus and reached up to the parapets of the wall where sentries took turns on patrol. The grimness of the place seeped everywhere, down to the grass that had taken on a dull shade of brown.

After a back and forth with one of the guards, Minho forced them to call over the Head of Security at the institute who initially wasn’t much help either.

He barely considered her presence as he Minho showed him the permission signed by Professor Laqueus and Professor Hajjar.

“Only the subject’s sister is permitted entry into the chamber.” He stated curtly.

Minho kept his cool, or at least pretended that was the case. Y/n herself was too anxious to tell.

“As her guard, I have been tasked with accompanying her everywhere.” Minho stood his ground, fishing his ID and another circular object out of the inner pocket of his jacket. “Even in high-security settings.”

The Head glanced back and forth from the documents to Minho’s face and from the latter to Y/n, whom he had barely acknowledged up until that point. She doubted the sight of her was what forced the man to relent. What mattered was that the gates groaned loudly as they opened inch by inch, revealing what she could only describe as a civilization within its right. Structures that far surpassed the university were commonplace it appeared. She imagined this was where most of the science-obsessed graduates of Olympia chose to spend the rest of their demigod lives. Whereas the subjects dreaded seeing the dawn of another day, the researchers bathed in the glory of its promises.

Minho and Y/n were escorted through a white-light mazelike path under the most sterile building she’d ever had the privilege to exist in, and when they stepped foot in the maddeningly white chamber where Luna was being held, she could tell their escort would be keeping guard as well as the time. Y/n had to make every minute out of all 30, count.

She practically bounded towards Luna’s bed, where she was strapped down and connected to tubes and machines that she couldn’t make sense of. Unable to bear the sight of her sister confined to her bed like an animal, Y/n began undoing all the buttons and knots, freeing the little girl’s frame of its constraints. Her eyes welled with tears as she took Luna in from head to toe. How sickly pale her sister looked, how emaciated.

For a minute or two, Y/n simply sat at the edge of the bed, holding the girl’s cold hand. She wanted to wake her up and let her know her big sister was there.

“Luna? Hey, little bug.” She spoke to her softly, brushing her dark hair aside when those eyes fluttered open the tiniest bit. “Did you have a nice dream?”

“She can’t hear you,” Minho muttered.

Nodding, Y/n tried to wipe away the unshed tears discreetly and pointed at the tubes. “What’s in them?”

At her question, he drew closer, lightly feeling the length of the transparent tubes as he inspected the fluid they transported from the cylinder at the top and into Luna’s circulatory system.

“Diazepam by the looks of it. For seizures most likely.” He let the tube go as he let the state of her sister soak in. “Whatever it is, it’s best not to pull out the needles.”

“I know. They’d just shove them back in the second we’re gone.”

“She’s in pain. Help her sit up. That’s right. Hold her still.” Y/n held Luna close to her chest while Minho unbuttoned her hospital gown and inspected her spine. He pressed his thumbs gently into the flesh, what little remained of it, anyway. “They’ve been siphoning out her marrow. Look at all the purple patches all over her back. She must have been screaming in pain so they put her to sleep.”

Y/n cupped the back of Luna’s neck, securing her head against her chest, and felt the little girl’s breathing quicken as she stirred awake.

“Y/n…

The big sister rubbed her hand over the bony little arms while Minho buttoned up her hospital gown.

“Hey, bug-bug,” Y/n murmured and Luna moaned in pain as they helped her lie down, “I’m here.”

Luna’s eyes, though barely open, welled with tears of fatigue.

“Will you take me home?” She pleaded.

Glancing at Minho, Y/n shook her head softly. “I can’t-

“Please, take me with you.” Luna’s frail grip could easily be shaken off, but Y/n could never do that to her. “I want to come with you. Please-

Y/n responded by tightening her hold, just enough to not cause her pain. “I will get you out of here. Soon. I’ll get you out of here and then we’ll go back home. I promise you.”

“It hurts.” Luna sobbed.

“I’m sorry.”

“They came back.” Y/n could feel Minho, who had been beside her the whole time, lean forward with renewed interest. “The voices. They came back and I can’t sleep. Please, please, make them go away, please.”

At that moment, it didn’t matter whether Luna’s confession could be used against them should Minho decide to report it to Professor Hajjar and Laqueus. The tremors in Luna’s hand matched the shuddering of the rest of her body. She needed sustenance and reassurance. The latter, Y/n could provide.

“I promise.” She spoke it like a litany, “I promise. I promise. I promise.”

From next to her, she felt something shift. Minho stepped closer and muttered something she could barely hear, lips almost pressed against the object in his hand. When he unfurled his fist she saw the same object on his palm that he’d produced from his jacket back in her cell. Only, this time what sprung from it was not a blanket to trap in the body heat and multiply it until the optimal body temperature was achieved. It was… a bar of chocolate, caramel-flavored. He opened it, broke it into smaller pieces, and offered one to Luna.

When she shrunk away from him, he only said, “Your sister says you like caramel.”

Luna glanced at her and only accepted the offering when Y/n gave her a nod of reassurance. That was how they spent the remaining minutes, feeding her chocolate, helping to clean her teeth however they could, asking her what else hurt, informing her about the hearing that was to take place, and simply brushing her hair with a small comb Minho kept in his inner pocket. Y/n was glad to hear Luna sigh in contentment, eyes lighting up at the tricks Minho played with the plastic wrapper. It was not enough to make her forget about the white, sterile prison she was in.

Near the end, Minho placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s time, Y/n.”

Y/n didn’t look at him, only at Luna.

“I’ll be back, okay?” The promise rang with uncertainty.

Pouting, Luna nodded and looked up at Minho.

“Can you bring chocolate again?” She asked him in a voice riddled with shame.

Minho smiled. “Of course, we will. Strawberry-flavored. Orange. Cherry. Peach. Coconut. Whatever you want.”

“Thank you,” Luna murmured.

The hug was too short to count as a proper goodbye. Y/n felt like this prison was siphoning her blood out and away from her. It left her fatigued, regretful about not having said something more, confused, and angry.

“Why would they do that to Luna?” She voiced the question once they were back in their car. It had been burning and writhing in her mind for the entire duration of their visitation. “I get that she’s being held in custody. But there’s no need to drain her marrow to prove whatever they think there is to prove.”

Minho put his seatbelt on and stared ahead. “That’s sketchy for sure.”

“Sketchy?” She couldn’t understand the need for that understatement. “It’s cruel. She didn’t-

“They think otherwise.”

“They’re wrong.”

“Not to them.” He violently rammed in his car keys and Y/n stilled. “To them, she’s an old blood who ran away while an investigation was being conducted and whose sister stormed into a forest crawling with monsters so they wouldn’t get to her first.” He sighed, head on the headrest. “I get why you went after her. I do. But it was the wrong choice to make.”

Angry hot tears pooled in her eyes so she looked out of the window instead, hoping the searingly bright light from the lamppost would vaporize them. She felt like such a weakling at that moment.

“So, you would have left her alone?” Y/n tried to keep her voice from shaking. “Knowing she might get mauled by some monster. Knowing she might die thinking no one cared enough to search for her.”

His reflection in the window gazed back at her and, before she could look away, he turned the key. Y/n barely made out his words over the sound of the engine roaring to life.

“It doesn’t matter what I would have done.” He said as he drove out of the parking lot.

Halfway home, Minho handed her a napkin.

******************************************************************************************

Safe to say, Y/n got absolutely no sleep last night. She stormed up the stairs, ignoring Yeonjun’s biting comments, Beomgyu’s persistent inquiries, and Hwang’s stalking gaze as they paused the game they were playing. She didn’t care to see anything other than the pages of Professor Hajjar’s book or to hear anything other than the voice in her head reciting fact after fact on the river Styx and the goddess after which it was named. Everything else⸺ the motorcycles speeding down the road, the bustling nightlife of New Rome, and the birds pecking her windowsill (where she’d placed some seeds after asking Minho if she could)⸺ was nothing but background noise. It worked. She memorized everything to a T.

From the dawn of the Golden Age, it had been the custom of legendary heroes of old to pledge oaths in the name of the stream of hatred, the current of gloom and abhorrence, for it was that of the Goddess whom Zeus, sovereign of Olympus, considered an ally to be revered. Oaths in her name were to be kept; be it during the valor of life or the torment of death. Oaths in her name are impossible to elude.

Attempting to rid herself of the guilt, Y/n memorized the entire 3rd chapter. She labored to stave off her sleep by drinking water and going to pee at least three times, but eventually, sleep claimed her like a relentless, lurking beast that wouldn’t take no for an answer. Even then, the guilt plagued her dreams, for it was she who followed Luna into that forest. In her nightmare, the man stood behind her sister, staring at Y/n as both he and Luna plunged into the gaping abyss. She knelt at the precipice, reaching inside the pit, but an invisible force would not allow her to chase after Luna.

Her screams rang in her ears from the moment she awoke screeching and sweating, up until now, as she and Minho sat on the bench and sipped from their thermoses. She’d been unable to learn much of what he’d been trying to teach her, his words going in from one ear and out of the other. There was just… so much noise.

She heard him say they were heading out loud and clear though.

“Why are we leaving so early?” Y/n asked him.

Minho wiped at his brow with a towel. “Professor Hajjar has called me into his office to discuss the details of your confession. And you’re coming with me.”

That was certainly new.

“Really?” She said, cautious. “I thought you’d… you know, have Hwang teach me. Like last time.”

Minho tossed the towel in his sports bag and zipped it up. “Look around.”

She did as he said but… there were no signs of Yeonjun’s insufferable expressions, Beomgyu’s insupportable teasing, or Hwang’s arrogant stance.

She looked back at Minho. “Where have they gone?”

“Come on.” He slung the strap across his shoulders, clearly intending to drop the subject entirely. “Professor Hajjar dislikes tardiness.”

Neither did Minho apparently, for he ushered them out of the building, back to campus, and up to Professor Hajjar’s office. Before bringing his hand up to knock, he looked at her to assess whether she was ready. Y/n nodded at him and he rapped his knuckles against the wooden surface. They waited for Professor Hajjar to call from the other side and then crossed the threshold.

Y/n didn’t think it was possible for Minho to straighten his posture even more, but he did.

“Good afternoon, professor.” He greeted, nodding.

Professor Hajjar looked up from his book and offered a greeting in return. She almost didn’t notice his eyes flit between the two students before him thanks to the sunlight being reflected from the shelves on his glasses.

The professor angled his way so he might get a better look. “I see you’ve brought Miss. L/n along.”

Minho’s thoughtful gaze settled on her as he seemingly pondered how to answer the unspoken question. Eventually, he stared ahead.

“There was no one available who could stand guard.”

Professor Hajjar fixed him with a skeptical look, one that would have had Y/n stuttering or running away for fear of feeling exposed. But with Minho refusing to divulge further details on his friends’ whereabouts, the professor had to redirect the conversation, albeit reluctantly. Y/n was certain he would get to the bottom of this one way or another. It was in the nature of the children of Athena and Minerva.

“You did well bringing her here.” Professor Hajjar bookmarked the page and shut the book. “What we are to discuss involves both her and her sister, and now that we have a confession of sorts we can work on an alibi. Although,” He paused, gesturing for the two of them to take a seat. “I don’t presume you will listen unless I’ve answered your questions first.”

He had read her like an open book, but just this once Y/n did not mind. He wanted her to see her desperation, to feel the maggots of rage buried in her flesh each time she thought of her little sister. Perhaps then he would be inclined to do more.

“What are they doing to Luna?” She asked, hands placed on each thigh. “There were tubes and-

“A research is being conducted that demands the extraction of her marrow.”

The immediacy of his answer and the purely analytical nature of Professor Hajjar’s gaze stupefied her. She looked to Minho for help… anything.

“What kind of research?” He prodded, letting the bag rest on the carpeted floor.

“You know I am not allowed to speak further.” He stated. At that, even Minho deflated, almost shrinking back from the thought of pressing the matter. Professor Hajjar turned his attention fully on her. “Let me be clear. You have no alibi.”

Y/n leaned forward. “But-

The professor raised his hand, effectively silencing her. “You cannot prove intent and, considering the fact that you and your sister are old bloods, I would consider it ill-advised to attempt it. That would open a can of worms neither you nor I can contain.”

Minho tried to speak when Y/n couldn’t. “Is there anything we can do, professor?”

“To the Council, Luna Weisfeld’s culpability is a foregone conclusion. No amount of begging or thorough investigation can convince them otherwise, and even if they were somehow persuaded of her innocence, there is the matter of the population. The masses would never accept it as the truth.”

She could not accept this whole farce as the end, her sister’s end. Luna’s life had barely just begun. There was so much food for her to try, so many games for her to play, and so many books for her to read, should she wish to. But, to let them tear the choice from her for the sake of some old men’s bureaucratic, fanatic nonsense was inconceivable. It was just… just…

“So, this is it?” Her lips trembled. “My sister dies and the world lives on?”

It was just so unfair. She knew the whole sentence was carved on her expression. Anyone could taste the anger in her blooming tears but none would care to try. Before, she had wanted him to witness her anguish. Now, she stared down at her fists. She focused on the nails that had just started to grow back and the flesh that itched furiously.

“As you may know,” Professor Hajjar continued, “though rarely so, there have been cases when one person has taken the fall for another, volunteering to be executed in someone else’s stead. But considering you are old bloods,” He looked at her with some discomfort, “And yours is the blood that sustains the populace, there might be a way to keep the both of you alive while satisfying both the Council’s need for maintaining the status quo and the people’s calls for retribution.”

She grasped the true meaning of his words. It was unfair for Luna to rot without even getting the chance to bloom. But Y/n was… she was older. Luna could still have a family, people who would care for her. All Y/n had to do was decay. When she spoke, it was in resignation.

“I will take her place.”

Minho jumped from his seat. “Wait, hold on, Y/n-

“I will volunteer to be experimented on in her place.” Once again, only the voice in her head mattered. Everything else was just background noise, Minho’s voice included. “They can take my blood too. That way she can be free until the day I die.”

Professor Hajjar approached her, his hand resting on her head. It reminded her of when Chiron would feed her hot soup in winter. Only at night though. The gods of Mount Olympus couldn’t know he would sit next to her and let her fall asleep on his stomach. Y/n resisted the urge to flinch from it; the memory and the touch.

The professor removed his hand and walked them to the door. “Someone will be assigned as her caretaker.”

Y/n was at a loss for what to say. She was a dead woman walking, every step that of a phantom. It was Minho who thanked him, and then they went on their silent way home.

At precisely 10:37 PM, while Minho was teaching her to type out her assignments on his laptop, the sound of the security code being punched into the keypad outside announced the other boys’ arrival. Y/n prayed that the shower and the soothing creams Minho had applied to her face had lifted some of the redness around her eyes. If not, Yeonjun, who was currently stomping toward the living room, would comment on it. Beomgyu would snicker. Hwang would give her those conceited smirks of his. They irked her so badly.

“That forest is the gate to fucking Tartarus, I’m telling you.” The son of Cupid was practically seething as he unzipped the outer layer of the fitted black leather attire. His flaming eyes bore into Y/n’s, and her fingers froze on the keyboard. “How did you manage to survive that shithole?”

She felt someone tug lightly at her hair before sitting down across from her, kicking his feet up on the table. Minho shoved them off.

“The shadows speak to her,” Beomgyu repeated her words from before.

Yeonjun muttered under his breath. “Fucking freak.”

Minho, who had now forgotten about teaching her, cut in before things could escalate.

“Did you find anything?” He asked.

“Nothing useful that’s for sure.” Yeonjun chuckled bitterly as he removed all the celestial bronze daggers strapped to his thighs and slammed them on the table. Y/n flinched. “Leaves and branches and shit and filthy monsters. That whole place should be torched. Fuck! I smell like shit!”

Yeonjun was always a little pissed off. It was like he was born with a permanent distaste for anything unflattering and the mere sight of such a thing⸺ specks of dirt on the floor, dishes that had not been properly washed, or the smallest stain on a shirt⸺ drove him mad to the extent that the air around him would all but swim in heat. She’d seen it happen the day before at the Training Center when Beomgyu had tried his luck and gotten an ass-whooping for it. An angry Yeonjun couldn’t be a good omen.

It was Beomgyu who answered Minho’s question in full.

“We found the stream and searched it for footprints, hair, and other things we could use to track its energetic blueprint.” He made a zero with his fingers. “Nothing. Whatever she saw was good at covering its tracks.”

“Or maybe it has faded.” Suggested Minho.

“That could be it.”

She expected Minho to continue the dialogue but, instead, he turned to her. “What do you think?”

Their undivided attention only made her more nervous. She would rather chew her lips raw than contribute to the discussion⸺ any discussion⸺ at the moment. It didn’t help that she felt a prickling sort of heat at the back of her head like a hot rod was being rammed into her skull.

“What if it was a portal?” She proposed, reluctant.“What if that thing disappeared through some sort of portal?”

Behind her, Hwang pointed out, “Portal energy is detectable.”

It made Y/n feel so small, knowing that any mistake could cause her to be perceived as a dumb monkey who hadn’t evolved to understand common speech.

“It could have been a different one.” She chose her words carefully and buried her hands under her thighs. “Some kind of nullifier.”

Yeonjun scoffed, leveling her with a look of undiluted repulsion. “Are you an expert on that now?”

“That’s enough.” Minho intervened, forcing her attention back on him. Yeonjun could seethe for as long as he wanted but there was a job to be done first. “What makes you think it was a nullifier?”

The truth would make her sound like a pathetic eavesdropping creep, which hadn’t been her intention at all, but for the truth to come to light Y/n needed to lay all her cards out in the open. Minho was there, which meant none of the others would try to step out of line. Yeonjun didn’t seem to give a shit about Minho’s reprimands though, still looking at her like one would at a pile of dog shit on the sidewalk. But Beomgyu didn’t care to mess with her much, and to Hwang, she was no more than a weak little pest. So, really, could telling the truth be as detrimental as her nerves led her to believe?

“I heard the four of them talk at breakfast. Felix and Lia said there was no DNA, no trace of the perpetrator. I just thought this might be similar. Some kind of nullifier.” She lowered her eyes to the laptop. “Not for the DNA but the energetic trail. I don’t know. It was just a thought.”

Minho patted her on the shoulder. “It’s a possibility.”

“It’s even more plausible when you consider he was waiting to speak with you specifically.”

Hwang’s voice and the way his knees brushed against her back sent chills down her spine. It was like being doused with ice-cold water.

Y/n twisted around and looked up at him. “What does that mean?”

Yeonjun scoffed for the umpteenth time that evening.

“It means that no matter what you do or how hard you try you cannot escape the reality of being involved in this shit.”

She frowned. “I don’t even know him.”

“Doesn’t matter much when he knows you,” Yeonjun enunciated, rising to his feet.

The sight of him towering over her made her want to claw her way out of the penthouse with her barely-grown nails.

“I didn’t do anything.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but every anxious vein in her body bled into it, staining her delivery with guilt for something she hadn’t done. “He was asking Luna if she liked flowers, made grass into one, and then told us to go back.”

Yeonjun squinted. “So your sister could kill more of us?”

She shook her head, covering her ears like she did when the outside world inundated her senses.

“I didn’t know what to do.” Minho tried to touch her but she flinched away. “Luna was so scared and I just wanted to keep her safe.”

“Old bloods are ever so susceptible to suggestions from the Pit,” Hwang stated as Minho went to the kitchen. When he came back it was with a glass of water in his hand and a warning glint in his eyes. “She could easily be a conduit.”

The water felt dry as it passed through her esophagus, leaving behind a sense of dehydration more scratching than before. Their assertion of her 9-year-old sister’s guilt could not be shaken. It compelled her to her feet.

“She didn’t do anything,” She uselessly defended once again, trying to appear more threatening than she could ever hope to be as she glared at Hwang and Yeonjun. It sounded closer to a plea, further emphasized by what she said next, “Why don’t you believe me?”

She’d just spoken, and once again, her words were met with nothing but silence, minutes pelting atop her chest, crushing her ribs. None of them, not even Yeonjun who never missed out on an opportunity to spite her, uttered a word. Thinking back on her question, Y/n realized how obvious the answer was. Silence weighed all the more for it.

Usually, she would find comfort in the expanse of the sky, lit by stars or lightning, but tonight, neither the moon nor the glittery tapestry could cradle her, embrace her into a sense of comfort.

“We could try to trace the energy in the flower.”

Once again, Minho intervened by redirecting the flow of the conversation. Children of Hermes and Mercury were pros at conflict de-escalation just as they endlessly racked their brains to bring into the world. That was another gift from his father to Minho, who sat on the sofa with Y/n lodged between him and Hwang. The latter stared at her without a care in the world that the rest were there. She focused on the feeling of the cool glass against her skin and the conversation taking place.

From the other sofa, Beomgyu asked a valid question. “Didn’t they confiscate it?”

Hope bloomed in her chest, though it still did not manage to alleviate her anxiety. In her chest, her heart kept thundering, threatening to all but wrestle its way out of her ribcage.

“It could be in the same lab they’re keeping Luna in.” She suggested.

Hand on her shoulder, Minho looked at Hwang. “Do we have anyone on the inside?”

Despite wanting to, Y/n held back from looking to her right, fearing that Hwang would only refuse to help upon catching the desperation in her expression. Somehow, she could feel his breaths against her neck, his flesh melting into hers even without touching. Disconcerting. Blood-chilling. Constrictive.

It was a moment before he shifted in his place.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Hwang responded.

Y/n bit back a cry of gratitude and resolved to only look up at Minho with a small smile. It didn’t reach her eyes, somehow her smiles never did. But she hoped he understood.

He patted her on the shoulder and urged her to go to bed. Content that they had worked something out, however futile it might be, Enid could now go to sleep feeling somewhat accomplished. Yet, despite everything said, Yeonjun had to open a new can of worms.

“Why the fuck are we trying so hard?” When Y/n turned to face him, he wasn’t even looking at her. To him, she’d already vanished and all that remained was to cement her guilt in the minds of others. But then he pointed an accusing finger at her. “She probably lied to us about seeing that thing in the forest yet here we are running around like imbeciles, putting our lives at risk to save that of her sister. Why? She’s not our friend. Prisoners locked up for rape have more human rights than her. She’s a nobody.”

“She deserves a fair trial though.”

Y/n had never imagined Beomgyu would speak in her favor. He was too nosy and insensitive in his approach to topics that demanded caution. Yet, as he sat there, glancing back and forth between his friend and her, Y/n wondered if that was merely a mask.

Yeonjun had an answer to that it seemed.

“Is that you or your mother speaking?” He bit out.

Minho, who had been on his way to the kitchen, glass in hand, slammed the glass on the counter. “You’re overstepping.”

Yeonjun’s eyes narrowed. “Everything bad that has happened so far has been because of her despicable kind.”

It was nothing new. From the first day, Yeonjun had made it clear that her presence repulsed him, a sentiment his friends hadn’t been shy about sharing. Minho was the sole reason they hadn’t made it impossible for her to survive, and even he had a job to do. A job that did not involve babying her, comforting her, wiping the snot from her nose or the drool from her chin. She knew that.

She clutched her book tighter.

“You might be right.” The blood roaring through her system made it so she could hardly hear herself speak. But she could still see, and there the four of them were, staring at her in varying degrees of confusion. “Maybe every word that comes out of your mouth is not yours but your parents’. Maybe that’s why you’re cruel to those you don’t want to have sex with.”

Though briefly, she caught the spiteful curl of Yeonjun’s lips.

“Look at you.” He looked her up and down, drawing closer. Each step he took forward meant one step backward for her. “No one would bother being kind to you, sex or not. You’re barely human.”

“So are you, asshole.”

He reached her in such a short time that she couldn’t make out the shape of him. Perhaps he’d been close the whole time. Her heart almost burst out of her chest, and if it weren’t for Minho inserting himself between the two of them and Beomgyu holding Yeonjun back by the torso, having the heavy book knocked out of her hands wouldn’t have marked the end of it.

“Don’t fucking compare yourself to me,” Yeonjun snarled at her, his sclera glowing a sickly red. “Filthy fucking blood pig.”

“I said,” Minho extended his arm behind him protectively, and repeated, “You’re overstepping.”

Slowly loosening his hold, Beomgyu muttered, “Come on, man,”

“Get your hands off of me.” Yeonjun shoved him off completely and the younger demigod raised his hands defensively, “Don’t fucking touch me right now.”

Before stomping up the stairs, he flexed his jaw and shot them a glare. Beomgyu's face was moulded into one of guilt like he was sorry to have kept Yeonjun from inflicting harm upon her. Minho pushed Y/n further behind him until she was almost out of sight. Hwang… she wasn’t exactly certain how to interpret his expression at the moment. There wasn’t anything particularly expressive about his face right then, to begin with. It puzzled her.

Upon hearing the door to Yeonjun’s bedroom slam shut, Minho accompanied her to quarters. He advised her to lock the door and only open it if he should be the one asking to be let in.

“What if I need to get something from the fridge?” Y/n asked.

He made a gesture with his fingers. “I suggest you lock it, yeah?”

After Minho left, she didn’t bother switching on the light. It always felt so jarring to her vision. Besides, she could always use the bedside lamp to read without being forced to endure her reflection on the vanity mirror. She really didn’t wish to see her tears as she read about the Underworld.

She got under the blanket, setting her throbbing foot gently on the bed. What bad luck it had been for the corner to dig on the bridge of her foot. It would bruise and ache for days.

Still, she didn’t wish to see herself sob. In due time, eternity would be at her disposal. What remained of her could weep in the abyss, where nothing could ever see or be seen.

At 1:35 AM, Y/n plucked up the courage to tread out of her room, sticking to the darkest side of the corridor until she was finally in the kitchen. No lights were turned on, so she assumed everyone had already hit the sack for the night. She felt safe to drink without the fear of choking.

“Thirsty again.” A voice drifted from the balcony after she all but inhaled the glass of water.

She turned to the living room and indeed, the door to the balcony was wide open, the curtains billowing inside before deflating with the withdrawal of the wind. They were a sheer sort of blue, almost silver, Y/n realized. Had they changed them while she was up in her room? At so late an hour? Or was this her first time noticing?

She didn’t need to squint in the darkness to make out his silhouette. Of course, he would be awake at this hour, haunting the halls like a bewitching wraith, forever watchful, always on the prowl. He always made her feel cornered in an open space. His presence⸺ the skill, prestige, and beauty⸺ hammered her down like a nail into its rightful place. Y/n could only nod and hope that he deemed the debacle from a few hours ago beneath his consideration; unworthy of his mockery.

Afraid of pissing him off, she didn’t mean to stay. But when he drove holes into her skin, any thought she might have had of scurrying up the stairs was wrenched from her mind. Her feet moved on their own, and the outline of his figure became clearer as he leaned back with his elbows on the railing. Sweat glistened in the moonlight, gluing the dark runaway strands to his skin despite it being in his usual half-up half-down style. She also noticed he was in a similar gear from before, only made of lighter material. Ideal for late-night training.

Her lips had a mind of their own. “Why do you train at night?”

For a few seconds, all he did was look at her, head tilted.

“It’s quiet.” He answered, shrugging.

“But how do you see?” The words escaped her before she could think them through. To make matters worse, Hwang pointed op at the bulbs installed into the balcony’s ceiling. Feeling stupid, Y/n looked down at her feet. “Oh, right. Forgot.”

“You’re never going to see the outside world again,” The abrupt turn of the conversation gave her whiplash. She looked at him, wide-eyed, but he looked the epitome of nonchalance. “You know that, right.”

Y/n leaned forward, elbows on the railing. “Luna will be free to enjoy her life like a normal child.”

“Will she now?” She nodded and felt him draw closer. “Who will care for her if you don’t?”

Hwang was treating her like she was a stupid mongrel. She’d had worse epithets pinned to her name, but for some reason, him thinking of her as this unevolved ape who knew nothing of the world’s cruelty got on her damn nerves. Keeping herself from side-eyeing him was tough.

“I know people won’t jump at the opportunity to shelter and provide for her. It’s expected. Who would want to care for creatures like the two of us?” She tried to be as eloquent in her response as she could. “But she’ll have proper meals, dress for the weather, and be looked after by someone who knows what they’re doing even if they’re being mandated to do it. She will never be cold again.” She looked down at her reflection in the glass of water. “After graduation, she can choose to leave or stay until the day I die. So long as she has a choice, her decision doesn’t matter.”

Her left side itched under Hwang’s gaze.

“You’re so delusional.” He said. “It’s a bit cute.”

Reluctantly, Y/n lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Why do you say that?” She asked in a small voice.

“The bargain ends once you volunteer to take her place. After that, you get locked up in the lab and she’s delivered to a stranger’s doorstep. The guardians could be child beaters, rapists, or even decent people.” He paused only to level her with an unsympathetic look. “But don’t think, not even for a second, that they’ll do anything for her that goes beyond what is demanded from them.”

Her fingers tightened around the glass.

“You tell me how to fix this then.” Y/n retorted.

“Why would I?” He rejoined, shifting to face her with only one elbow to support him against the railing. “I don’t care what happens to the two of you.”

Her lips parted. Not in shock. No… that wasn’t it. She knew everyone wanted her locked away so they wouldn’t have to stare at her. That was repulsion. Yeonjun showed it. Beomgyu supported it. But it was there. Hwang simply didn’t give a single damn. He neither loathed her nor cared for her. To quote his friend, she was a nobody. These past few days she’d forgotten her place.

“Would you care if I told them you were there?”

He stood silent. Good. For once, she wanted to be the one to render him speechless.

“I was, wasn’t I?” He said, taking one step closer.

“They never did find her phone.” Y/n raised her chin, drunk on some illusion of invulnerability. “Who knows? You could have done something to it. What would they think then? What would you-

In a heartbeat, his slender fingers were wrapped around her neck. Wide-eyed, Y/n fought to escape his vicious grip but that only encouraged him to add more pressure on her jugular.

His features were set in a permanent barrenness. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was feeling generous.”

The more she struggled the more he tightened his grip, forcing her flush against the glass panes. She searched the surface for something to use against him but came up empty. There was nothing. There was no way for her to fight but by thrashing and kicking him anywhere she could reach.

“Go on. Tell me more, doll.” He seized her wrists when she tried to scratch at him. Pressing her harder against the glass, he whispered. “Tell me about how they’d believe a single word coming out of your mouth. Come on.” She tried but every time she opened her mouth, no words could climb up her throat. She heard him sigh, pleased. “There it is. I like it better when you squirm and look away like a skittish animal.”

As a last resort. She tried to kick him between his legs but by the time she raised her knee, he’d already seen through her futile attempt.

Her vision blurred as his grip tightened. Her chest burned for air that she couldn’t supply. Everything from her brain to her lungs was slowly shutting down, succumbing to his strength. Though her body pleaded for her surrender, she gasped, eyes bulging and turning pink as he lifted her with little effort. She was forced to stand on her toes, which made it harder to focus on kicking him. Not that he’d ever allow for that to happen.

In the haze of her vision, she searched for his eyes and gasped out, “I- please… can’t-

His face was close. She could feel it even if her senses were in disarray, abandoning their mission in alarm.

“What is it? You can’t breathe?” His thumb dug into the flesh in response to the choking sound that followed. “Call out to him, doll. Call out to Minho. Maybe he’ll come to the aid of his pathetic little pet.”

As if from far away, as though observing rain trickling down a window, she felt the snot and tears slide into her mouth.

“-jin… please.”

Just as unconsciousness reached to claim her, Hwang released her, and she dropped to her knees coughing, choking, and wheezing. She clutched at her throat as if to trap the oxygen inside her lungs. That way, she thought in her alarmed state, it wouldn’t leave.

Y/n was still wheezing when he crouched before her, lifting her chin. “Is there something you want to say to me?”

Paralyzed by terror, she didn’t even flinch from his touch.

“I’m sorry.” She choked out through quivering lips.

He dragged his thumb across her lower lip, her drool clinging to his skin. But it was neither his icy touch nor the nasty curl of his mouth that wrenched the pathetic sobs from her heaving chest. It wasn’t even the wetness running down her legs or the pajamas clinging to her skin.

“Of course you are.” He said, cupping her jaw.

It was the knowledge that she stood at his mercy. Who knew if he would bother with what Minho had asked of him? Not her, that was for certain. Not when she’d gone and foolishly tried to gain the upper hand by blackmailing him. Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! So fucking stupid!

As if to add to her humiliation, Hwang yanked her by the back of her t-shirt, practically dragging her to her bedroom, and bid her good night before sauntering toward his.

In the otherwise orderly space, she felt filthy and disassembled; like prey that had been shat out. But that was just the thing. She wasn’t prey. She wasn’t a threat. In a world of things both meaningful and meaningless, she was nothing.

As Y/n gazed emptily at her reflection⸺ the bruises, her swollen, bloodshot eyes, and the mixture of snot and saliva drying on her skin⸺ she traced the truth engraved into it.

#skz #skz pjo #skz godly parent #skz godly parent au #hwang hyunjin #hwang hyunjin skz #hwang hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin angst #hwang hyunjin enemies to lovers #child abuse #child torture #bullying #strangling #child experimentation

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olderthannetfic · 1 year

Note

Weighing in on the 'character with CSA background in fic that isnt canon to the source' thing.

So im gonna preface this with the fact that I am a csa survivor.

Im gonna weight opposite as the other anons here- these fics are fine. One cannot tell the difference between a survivor writing about messy feelings about their own abuse as filtered through characters and ~nonsurvivor fetishizers~. There is nothing one may do that the other doesn't. Some CSA survivors write long drawn out scenes lovingly describing every second and all the trauma after it, and some people who are horny about trauma they havent experienced will be very short and clinical. Many CSA survivors DO actually kink-ify their trauma to help process it, so its not always a one or the other situation. You definitely cannot always tell if a writer has experienced something based on their writing. And asking someone to disclose trauma so you can judge them is of course Mega Cringe.

I actually personally like fics that wallow in noncanon trauma like that. Im an avid lover of whump & hurt/comfort of all flavors, including sexual, and making the blorbos I like/relate to get dragged through hell is cathartic and fun.

What I do find annoying though is when people dont tag CSA-focused fics (or fics with a arc/chapter/etc that includes CSA heavy focus). Its one of those things that like... You dont necessarily HAVE to do it depending on the fic and the site host, but you should at least warn its gonna contain a shocking/dark/rough scene/arc/element to the overall plot if you are going to describe an instance of abuse like that in explicit detail just because its such a rough topic.

Let people know the tone of the piece yanno? Its more of a fnn problem then a a03 problem in my experience because the CNTW tag is there and FNNs format makes it harder to fit all the information easily unless you want to write A/Ns before each chapter into the fic itself, but still.

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toki-is-the-king · 1 year

Text

Skwistok one shot

Summary: Skwisgaar and Toki are both drunk, sad, and horny. Pretty much it. Lots of angst, sexual tension, and mentions unprocessed trauma. Angst/fluff

Rating: Mature

TW for sexual themes, alcohol and ptsd.

Sometimes Skwisgaar hated drinking. He couldn’t say it out loud or the guys would crucify him, but it made him feel things. Things he didn’t want to feel or think about. Getting drunk was great, when he was in a good mood and wanted to party or fuck some groupies, but Toki’s whole ordeal with his dead dad and his fucked up family had Skwisgaar reminiscing on his own past, and it was shit. He couldn’t even recognize how he was feeling, it was just too much, and he hated the emptiness in his chest, like a black hole sucking the life out of him. Maybe it was just this shitty beer, but he wasn’t feeling his usual confident self, right now he just wanted to wallow in self pity. It was probably the alcohol, he reminded himself, still, he didn’t like feeling this torn up over his past or remembering how his skank mother was never there for him. He was in a bad mood. It was fucking gross and weird.

“Hey dood! Me and Nat’n are gonna go drink in the hot tub if you wanna join!”

Nathan was already taking his clothes off, bumbling around with his pants down around his ankles. “HEY. I’m gonna fucking drink this tequila, alright Pickles?!”

Skwisgaar cringed at the thought of being in the hot tub with Nathan after a bottle of tequila. He hadn’t noticed that he’d gone temporarily catatonic in his drunken state, unaware he was slipping into the uncharted depths of his mind, until an even more drunk Pickles waved a hand in front of his face. Skwisgaar might’ve been under the influence, but he could put on his usual stoic demeanor when needed.

“Eugh…dat ams tempting but I uh, was thinkings maybes…I ams just practices guitar instead.”

Pickles was grinning stupidly and just gave a half assed thumbs up, “whatever you say dood.”

“Oh schit, I wanna come too!”

Murderface yelled, jumping up from the chair he’d been stabbing away at for the past hour. He was just as wasted as Pickles and Nathan, who were already snickering after leaving him behind. Murderface chased after them with his open pocketknife, swearing he’d cut their eyes out if they excluded him. The door to the living room area slammed shut and the three guys could be heard shouting over each other about who got to choose a movie.

It didn’t take long before Skwisgaar got the eerie feeling of being watched.

“So you’s just goings to practice your guitars? Dats cool! Cans I watch?”

Before Skwisgaar could interject, or at least act like he wanted to, Toki was tripping over his feet and heading towards the couch where Skwisgaar sat, guitar in his lap.

“Uh…shores…I guess dats fine.”

“I promiskes I just sits and bes queit! You-“ Toki hiccuped, taking a swig from his red solo cup, “you not evens know I’s here.”

Skwisgaar sighed, readjusting the position of his guitar. In some way he was relieved to have been pulled from the thoughts of his whore mom, but now he was dragged into another pit of thoughts and feelings to focus on. He and Toki’s friendship had been a little strained as of recently, with Toki’s dad dying and all that mess. It was bothering Skwisgaar, but he did nothing about it. He found it best to just ignore his problems and maybe they’d disappear, but that wouldn’t work when the problem was sitting right in front of him, wide eyed, smiling and giggling like a schoolgirl. Toki flopped down onto his stomach, resting his cheek against his palm, swinging his feet back and forth like he always did.

“Goes on, plays something!” Toki insisted, his voice screeching and high pitched. Skwisgaar only grimaced, realizing now that his five beers were probably the cause of this oncoming headache, or maybe it was Toki. As much as he liked both of them, beer and Toki had a way of giving Skwisgaar an unforgiving migraine. Why couldn’t the guy just keep his mouth shut for five seconds so Skwisgaar could secretly admire him and then loathe him in the same thought?

“Plays da guitarssss!” Toki screeched, ear piercing enough to shatter the windows.

“I can’ts plays while you ams starings at me likes dat!”

Toki only erupted into laughter, spitting his drink everywhere and onto the other man’s boots. Skwisgaar scowled at him, his annoyance causing his fingers to strum away at his guitar furiously.

“You knows I could totallies kicks you in de face right now if I wants to…”

“Does it! I wants a footprints on my face! HA!” The brunette smashed his face against the blond’s boot, grabbing the older man’s foot and jerking it around as if he was trying to pull his shoe off. Toki was way too fucking drunk to be enjoyable anymore and it was only thinning Skwisgaar’s patience. Sure, they all drank way too much, but lately Toki had been so wasted it was concerning. And over what? His asshole dad? That didn’t seem like an excuse to Skwisgaar…or maybe it was, and he was just too unfeeling. Skwisgaar just knew that he was overwhelmed too and yes, he bottled everything up anyway, but when Toki wasn’t rolling on the floor wasted out of his mind, they had a decent friendship. At least Skwisgaar didn’t feel so lonely when he could actually talk to Toki. It was nearly impossible to have a conversation with Toki lately and it sucked. Well- it was hard to have a conversation with him in general, he was childish, whiny, had the attention span of a five year old- but at least he was interested in what Skwisgaar was saying. But this time around there was something about Toki’s obliviousness that had Skwisgaar overly frustrated, more than usual. Whenever Skwisgaar felt he was being ignored, that his presence was being disregarded, he felt disrespected. Discarded. It gave him flashbacks of being a stupid unwanted kid who was unloved and neglected. Call it narcissistic if you will, that Skwisgaar shut down anytime his ego was slightly threatened, but it wasn’t necessarily his fault. He didn’t know how to respond to perceived rejection other than getting angry.

“Tokis if you’s not stops dis drinkings nonskense then I just goes to my room and nots talks to you.”

“But you’s drinking too!”

“Nots drinkings like how you’s does! Fucks dis, I goes to my room.” Skwisgaar grabbed the neck of his guitar, steadying himself to his feet. Everything was spinning and he was entering the part of being drunk where you begin to feel sick if you stop drinking to keep the momentum going.

“No! Please, donts leaves me alone, Skwisgaar! Please!” Toki stumbled up from the floor, pushing Skwisgaar back onto the couch more roughly than he’d intended to. The blond scowled, jerking his guitar towards himself to block Toki from falling all over him. His attempt to put space between himself and Toki was proving to be in vain, and Toki who was getting oddly frantic, had the nerve toss Skwisgaar’s precious guitar to the floor.

“Eugh, Tokis gets you hands off me! And fuckings be careful with my guitars damnit!”

“Please donts leaves me, I’m sorries! I behaves, I promiskes!”

“No gets out of my way!”

“I’ll does anything if you stays, Skwisgaar, please! I’ll evens sucks your dick, I’ll does anything!”

Skwisgaar paused, eyeing Toki skeptically, who was on his knees, hands clasped together as if he were praying. “Dat ams…reallys…gays…But you knows, we ams…both sooo hammered it could happens and no one’s could blame us.”

“Yeah! We ams both reallys hammered! No one cans blames us!” Toki said, slurring his speech. He was so dizzy he was seeing double.

Skwisgaar slowly relaxed against the couch, arms at his sides. Toki hastily climbed onto his lap, feeling a surge of heat rush to his face. Skwisgaar smirked, using his thumb to tilt Toki’s chin up as he tried to glance away. Toki hadn’t really thought this through, sometimes he just blurted out whatever came to mind. He’d actually never given a blow job before or sat in Skwisgaar’s lap like this.

“gör jag dig nervös?” Skwisgaar mumbled, his melancholic mood dissipating. Sexual tension was a promising escape from reality.

The younger man’s breathing quickened, his index finger entering his mouth as began to chew his nails. Skwisgaar’s eyes flickered from Toki’s parted lips, then to his chest. The younger man was breathing deeply, chest rising and falling beneath his baggy shirt. The room was so quiet you could almost hear the pounding of Toki’s heart against his chest.

“Well…dis was easy ways to gets you too shuts up, heuh?”

Toki remained silent, peering through his lashes, chewing his nails. He didn’t know how to tell Skwisgaar he wasn’t sure what move to make or what to do. He’d never felt this way around anyone before. This was the closest he’d gotten to intimacy yet, and it was with the sex god himself, so of course it made him panic. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further by confessing this, so he just stayed quiet.

“Before yous not shuts up, now I can’ts gets you to says no’tings?” Skwisgaar mused, resting his hands on the other’s hips firmly, digging his nails into his sides.

“Jeg…vet ikke hva jeg skal gjøre...” Toki whispered shyly, his gaze shifting from the floor to meet Skwisgaar’s piercing blue eyes. Shivers ran down his spine from the way Skwisgaar was looking at him, smirking, in control.

“You doesn’t haves to does nothings…let’s me goes first, ja?”

Toki perked up, the playful gleam in his eyes returning. He nodded, snuggling against the other’s chest like a cat, closing his eyes as if he might drift off to sleep. “I just rests my head and you goes first.”

Skwisgaar quirked an eyebrow, “ah, Tokis…We’s can does dis gay cuddling bullshits later…if you wants to…but I thoughts we does something else likes what you saids before-“

Skwisgaar sighed, seeing as Toki was too anxious or too drunk to put in much effort, he’d need to get him just a little worked up. His dick wasn’t going to suck itself, and he’d already tried and failed at sucking his own dick anyway.The older man began kissing down the younger’s neck, deciding to be an asshole and suck a hickey right under his jawline. With that, Toki’s eyes popped open again. Skwisgaar wasn’t expecting to have the other man moaning this early on but he was skilled at his craft. He’d never heard such desperation aside from those five dollar hookers he fucked last week.

“You likes dat?” The blond breathed out, lips trailing along the other’s neck, his skin warm and slightly sweaty. Skwisgaar got off on making people nervous, so this only fueled him to keep going, sucking and nipping at the skin until he could feel the familiar sensation of a boner pressing against his thigh. It wasn’t his own this time.

“You ams pathetisks…you knows dat?” He chuckled, keeping one hand on Toki’s hip and letting the other wander down the bulge on the front of the younger man’s pants. He gave a light squeeze, earning another defeated moan.

“H-how’s you knows how to do this?” Toki asked, and it came out as more of a whimper than he intended. He’d only barely hooked up with anyone at this point, he was too nervous. Skwisgaar made it seem so easy. Maybe he could get the hang of it someday.

“I literallys fucks de sluts brains out all days till I get bored, I knows what I’s doing.”

Skwisgaar slipped his hand in Toki’s pants just to toy with him, waiting until the other man got desperate enough to beg for it. But Toki was incompetent about foreplay or anything sex related, and grew impatient fairly quickly, rocking his hips against Skwisgaar’s to get some type of friction going. This only amused Skwisgaar and he retracted his hand to tease him. Toki whimpered again, narrowing his eyes in confusion.

“Why’s you stop?” He hiccuped a few times, words slurred and messy. He leaned in to kiss Skwisgaar in hopes of getting him to continue. Skwisgaar merely smirked, motioning to the other.

“Because it ams yours turn.”

Again, Toki looked anxious and shy but made the next move despite it, connecting their lips in a sloppy fashion, clinking their teethed together in the process. It wasn’t nearly as graceful as Skwisgaar would’ve anticipated, but he didn’t mind. He was just satisfied with whatever this was.

“You tastes likes vodka.” Skwisgaar muttered, leaning back to break the kiss after a few moments.

“Yeps I beens drinkings it all day. Okays Toki’s turns again!” Toki leaned in and kissed the other’s neck, trying to copy what was done to him. It wasn’t for very long, and he clearly lacked experience, but it was something at least. The kissing didn’t last and before he knew it Skwisgaar yelped in surprise, leaving Toki giggling and trying to bite him again. Toki couldn’t remain serious when he was drunk if his life depended on it.

“Tokis! You cants just fucking bites peoples!”

Toki pursed his lips, pouting, and Skwisgaar wanted to smack him. This was the weirdest, if you could even call it sexual, encounter he’d had, and he’d had “several thouskands”.

Skwisgaar rubbed his neck, visibly irritated. “Is dis what’s you does to the ladies? Who tells you dis is good? I gots to teach you’s a things or two.”

“I…never reallys does much with the goils…but oh yeah they loves it…Oh man, I can’t lies to you no more, I reallys don’t knows what I ams doing!!!” After his outburst there was more silence and Toki was radiating with embarrassment, his hands were trembling and he looked like he might cry. He couldn’t find the right words to express it so he’d sound cool, but there was no cool way to do it, so he forced himself to say it and get it over with.

“I nevers reallys…dones this yet…evens with the ladies…”

“vänta, är du oskuld, Toki?”

“…Ja…”

Skwisgaar exhaled deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to think Toki wasn’t still a virgin. Upon this realization, this could be excruciatingly difficult because Toki was absolutely clueless.

“I’m sorries! I just wants to bes likes you! I just wants you to likes me! I fucks everything up-“

Skwisgaar cut off the beginning tantrum with a swift kiss, pulling the other man in closer. He managed to lay him on his back, situating himself to straddle the younger man’s waist. He’d have to take the lead, but that was fine, and for once Toki didn’t seem to mind that Skwisgaar had the upper hand. He was just pleased with the kissing and the way Skwisgaar was grinding against him, pleasuring him. It was like a dream. This was way better than jacking off, Toki thought, and he understood a bit more now why the ladies loved the lead guitarist so much.

“S-Skwisgaar I…”

“Shhh…donts says nothing, just lets me dos it…” the blond whispered, cupping a hand over the other man’s mouth, suppressing another loud moan from escaping. Toki couldn’t stop whimpering and squirming underneath him, and it was driving the older man crazy. He never would have imagined he’d be into this- not just the gay stuff, but dry humping his band mate, relishing in the presence of seeing Toki helpless and flustered at his disposal. Skwisgaar pressed a wet kiss to Toki’s jawline as he began to undo his belt, yanking the front of his pants down. He hoped it wasn’t too far, that didn’t show how badly he wanted the rhythm guitarist, but Toki didn’t seem to notice, face scrunched up in pleasure.Through panting and shaky fingers, Skwisgaar finally got his belt loose, and then undid the front of Toki’s jeans, smirking at the hard on in his boxers. There was no way they’d be able to talk their way out of this if the rest of Dethklok walked in, so Skwisgaar knew he needed to act fast. He wished they were already undressed, but he’d change that quickly. He slid a hand under Toki’s shirt, hands roaming his chiseled body. He’d seen it a million times when they were in the hot tub but when Skwisgaar went to pull the shirt off, Toki grasped his wrist tightly, eyes wide and pleading, his writhing body going stiff.

“Waits-“

“What’s you wants now?!”

“Maybes I leaves my shirts on?”

“Whys?”

“It’s…colds in here…”

“Toki’s we ams both sweating unside of each others bodies, it ams not cold.”

“Makes a promisk you wonts says nothings?”

“Okay okay I promiskes! You ams makings dis what’s supposed to be easy over complicaskied!”

Toki relaxed again, loosening the death grip on Skwisgaar’s wrist, allowing him to pull his shirt off over his head. He frowned, peering up at the blond, hesitantly, like he expected to repulse him. A shameful blush coated his cheeks, and he turned his face towards the back of the couch, biting his lip.

Skwisgaar didn’t notice anything different than usual and was confused, equally annoyed and sexually frustrated.

“You’s looks de same as always. Cans I fucks you now? I’m startings to get bored.”

Toki stayed silent, simply nodding, lying flat against the couch, hands clumsily grabbing at Skwisgaar’s waist to hold onto as the blond began to palm at Toki’s hard on, causing the brunette to groan. Everything was spinning now, and he really wished he had taken it slow with the vodka. Despite the kissing and fondling each other, he was struggling to keep up the same pace as before. Toki felt a burning in the back of his throat and his stomach was churning, he felt sick, his day of binge drinking straight vodka was catching up to him. He might puke. He felt so guilty and stupid. Any fan girl would sell her soul and tits just to be in Toki’s position right now, underneath the famous lead guitarist, but Toki just felt awkward and sad; he was so nauseous he wasn’t sure if he could even enjoy this now. Skwisgaar felt like he was making out with a corpse the way Toki just laid there, limp and not moving, no longer responding to the advances he made. Eventually Toki was just staring into nothing like he was having an out of body experience and Skwisgaar was finally weirded out to the point that he stopped trying to satisfy his sexual desires.

“Toki it feels like I ams doesing alls de work-“

“Ams sorry… I just thinks how…I wishes my dads nevers beats me all those times…I cants do this…” Toki sighed casually, as if he hadn’t just said something incredibly fucked up.

Skwisgaar felt as if his dick retracted into itself at hearing this and Toki had officially ruined the moment. The sexual tension between them had faded and now there was just an awkwardness hovering in the air. Skwisgaar’s demeanor changed instantly, suddenly feeling guilty and wrong about this whole incident.

“Maybes…we does this another times then, ja?” Skwisgaar suggested, climbing off of Toki and crossing his arms like he does when something makes him uncomfortable. He zipped up his pants and stared at the wall, trying to conceal that he was disappointed and humiliated. He had never been turned down like this, and it was bothering him.

“Yeps…I likes to does this again…for nows cans…cans you’s just holds my hand?”

Skwisgaar wanted to refuse and say that was too gay for words, but he’d almost had gay sex with Toki so this was the least of his concerns at the moment, and it eased some of the guilt he felt for taking advantage of Toki’s vulnerability. Sure they were both intoxicated, but as Skwisgaar thought about it, Toki was way more fucked up.

“Ja…I cans does dat…” the blond pushed aside his ego and conflicting feelings, kneeling beside the couch and taking Toki’s hand in his. It made no sense to him why he was the one blushing now. He could have sex for hours but the moment it came to all that mushy stuff like hand holding and cuddling, it made him want to explode.

“I’m sorry I’s fucks this up.”

“You didn’ts it ams fine, Toki.”

. . .

“Skwisgaar…?”

“Ja?”

“ hvor lang tid tar det før arrene forsvinner..?”

“I doesn’t…knows about…dats Toki.”

“I just wonders…maybes someday they will goes away… by the times we’s does this again…”

“You’s… thinks I ams bothered by the scars?” Skwisgaar frowned, feeling the strings of his heart being tugged at. Did he really come off as someone that cruel? He needed to work on himself.

“I knows they ams not pretty…liker det du er vant til med damene.” Toki half shrugged, eyelids growing heavy as he yawned through another non-comprehensive response of Norwegian and English. He was ready to pass out.

“Tokis…I doesn’t cares bout dat…I just likes…to bes with you.” Skwisgaar admitted, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. Finally he got that out.

“I likes to bes with you too, Skwisgaar.” Toki smiled warmly, eyes still closed.

Skwisgaar was relieved Toki was so out of it otherwise he might bring up the fact his face was red and that he was being nice instead of throwing insults.

“I thinks I just falls asleep here…good nights.” Toki yawned, voice muffled by the way his face was smashed against the couch. He rolled onto his stomach and nuzzled his head into the cushions. Despite being so muscular, he looked so small and fragile, like a young boy rather than a man. It was disturbingly sad and made Skwisgaar swallow a lump in his throat he didn’t know was there. He squeezed Toki’s hand, waiting until he’d fallen asleep to press a soft kiss to it. The older man didn’t know where all of this sudden gentleness had come from, so he just blamed it on the alcohol, not wanting to admit how he felt. He could make out faint scarring on the other man’s hand, his eyes scanning Toki’s scarred shoulders, the worst spot being his back. His gaze wandered from there and to his friend’s upper biceps that were also littered with nasty scars. Skwisgaar had obviously seen the scars before, but he’d never paid much attention to them or questioned why they were there were there; he’d never really bothered to look at them this closely or cared to. He instantly felt like shit for being so angry at Toki lately. He wondered how many years' worth of scars there were. They were deep and harsh, like they were meant to inflict torturous amounts of pain, to disfigure him, make him feel worthless and ugly. The scars appeared as though they’d never fade, and they probably wouldn’t. Skwisgaar swallowed again, feeling nauseated, trying to adjust to the sickening feeling in his stomach when he recalled the recent trip to Norway. No wonder Toki had been drinking. He was glad Toki’s fucking dad was dead, though he’d never say it out loud. Skwisgaar gently reached up and rested his free hand on Toki’s back, fighting back the urge to rip his arm away because he was so uncomfortable showing affection and physical contact outside of sex made him cringe, but he fought through the urge and stroked Toki’s back, slender fingers tracing over the rugged scars that Toki was ashamed of. He finally sat on the floor, listening to the other snore faintly, praying he didn’t eventually puke on him or that the rest of the band didn’t see this. Didn’t see him this way.

“Good nights, Toki…I stays right here.”

#dethklok #metalocalypse #skwistok #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #writing dump #trying to get back into writing #angst and feels #smut and fluff #ptsd #kinda sad #nathan explosion #pickles the drummer #william murderface #fanfic #fan fic stuff #dethklok fanfic #I think our Toki alter influenced this ngl #osdd fictive

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shotiv · 14 days

Text

sigh

“i’m in love with him” atsumu has finally realized what his feelings were,he came home defeated after a hangout with the orange haired boy from karasuno.”huh” osamu ask osamu was the closest person to atsumu they did share a womb after all atsumu throws himself on the couch not responding he thinks to himself mumbling under his breath and groaning.Osamu pays no attention to this brother as he truly couldn’t understand what atsumu was talking about. shortly after osamu finishes his food and washes his plate he hears faint cry’s from the couch curious he walks over to see a sobbing blonde “am i this ugly when i cry” osamu sighs and cringes”SHUT UP” tsumu screams and throws a pillow at his brother what a nuisance he was never any help. samu catches the pillow and sets it down and sits next to his brother, he doesn’t want to have a conversation about his brothers love life as he doesn’t care but he loevs his brother and would like the wails to stop as well. “who”… atsumu wipes his face with his sleev a string of snot and tears staining, osamu is disgusted. “shoyo” the reply was soft and quite samu could tell he was heart just from the sound of his voice. He knows why he’s hurt hinata is with the setting from karasuno Kageyma Tobio. “i know he’s with tobio” trumu says with a chuckle trying to convince himself he’s fine ,he looks at his twin who staring back with a straight face. osamu is trying to emphasize with his brother but he’s never been in this situation so he try’s to sympathize instead. “what does that have to do with anything,him being in a relationship doesn’t have to stop u from liking him” a dumb response tsumu sighs his brother doesn’t know anything about love what would he know and with that he stands up and goes to there shared bedroom slamming the door. confused and puzzled osamu wonders what he said wrong, truly what did the shrimp being inna relationship have to do with tsumus little crush he sits in silence watching tv “ill go to sunas tonight. in the room tsumu plops onto his bed and stares up at the bottom of his brothers mattress the moment playing in his head over and over he’s thinking about that happend at the hangout the memory playing in slow motion in his head. Hinata picking up his phone the words hey babe rolling out of his mouth so naturally tsumu jumped a little thinking to himself ‘babe?’ what who’s he talking to he stiffens up when shoyo starts making plans throwing in words like presents dinner Anniversary love and what not. the phone call ends and shoyo apologizes for interrupting tsumu ,he didn’t care about what he was talking about before anymore “who was that at on the phone” “hm” shoyo squeaks looking at tsumu confused like he just asked what year it is . atsumu had a feeling he knew who he just didn’t want it to be true “it was kageyama, it’s our 7 month anniversary and where getting dinner tonight” he beams his smile wider than ever his cheeks flushed a rosy red thinking about his boyfriend. tsumus heart breaks a little trying not make the rest of the afternoon awkward he congratulated shoyo and wished him a happy anniversary before leaving t go home quickly making up some sort of excuse to leave. back to the present tsumu is done crying and wallowing in pity . getting up to take a shower washing his hair with the present sho got him a citrus orange shampoo the smell remind him of the boy who’s so dear to him. walking out the shower drying himself off putting on sweats and a white tee ,remembering how fast he left sho he decides to text him and apologize. ‘hey sorry about leaving so fast samu needed me at home’ sent. he didn’t expect a quick response with sho being at dinner with his boyfriend

ouuuuf this has been sitting in my drafts for way to long it was just something for me hence all the damn spelling mistakes but i need to share maybe will make a part 2 i don’t know but i love them

#haikyuu #anime #shobio #atsuhina #kagehina #lovers #my fic #shorts #short fiction

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teddybeartoji · 9 months

Note

MICKEYYY hello!!! i hope ur doing well !! <33 im here w some gojo songs…. i was going thru my playlist just now n found some that made me think of him!!!

okok so first off…… are you bored yet by wallows……….. its mostly just the vibe of it bc it feels so nostalgic and warm aaaa but also the lyrics ☹️☹️☹️ and if you’re feeling lonely, you should tell me // before this ends up as another memory ……… will you tell the truth // so i don’t have to lie? (muffled crying)

ALSOOO there’s still a light in the house by valley!! :> its one of my fave songs its just so cute and nice to listen to… such a vibe. but it makes me think of gojo soo much :< i’d like to call you on the way home // another precious call to waste on my mouth…… T_T

HI ARI SWEETHEART!!! FIRST THINGS FIRST THANK YOU FOR DROPPING BY I GIGGLED I BLUSHED IT'S SO NICE TO SEE U HERE

second of all i listened to the songs and wow.... u just get it; are you bored yet - FUCK okay it would be perfect for a little bittersweet story hmmmmmmmmm thinking thinking... i really love this though i think this fits him so well; there's still a light in the house - especially the lyrics you pointed out... damn...... i think "pointless" phone calls with him would be so frequent (idk maybe it's just me but i do looove calling!! i love hearing the other person's voice and laughter)

i also saw your post about the boys and chase atlantic ARI! YOU NEED TO BE STOPPED! i haven't listened to them in a minute and you absolutely just awakened something in me..........

+ i literally put both of our songs together into a playlist hehehe it's our baby

OKAY.... i had been thinking about his songs just the other day we really are connected; some of these might be a bit questionable lmao but just hear. me. out. please.

can't take my eyes off you by frankie valli - omfg he'd so be the type to very veeeeery dramatically serenade you............ all the time...... like c'mon the iconic heath ledger running on the stair while singing this in 10 things i hate about you....................................... he's literally him

girlfriend by hemlocke springs - i feel like he'd really like pop songs, stuff that's fun to sing along to ESPECIALLY with your lover; tell me you can't imagine him screaming his lungs out while singing this - he's not changing the lyrics either he's proudly yelling about being your girlfriend<333

romantic lover by eyedress - he's a simp he's so cute he'd definitely send u songs like this every once in a while (most of the time he'd send u stupid shit i fear..................)

my love by justin timberlake - this is just based on vibes

see you again by tyler, the creator & kali uchis - singing this with him mhmmm and then cringing just a little (with hearts in your eyes smh your body is betraying you) when he starts rapping lmao

my love mine all mine by mitski - "my baby, here on earth; showed me what my heart was worth" i think satoru our beloved feels like he loves with all his heart but thinks that noone will really love him back the same way or as much and you'd have to really show what his heart is worth - that he's lovable and that he deserves to be happy and he deserves to always have that person there for him, to love him unconditionally

TONGUE TIED BY GROUPLOVE - "i loved you then and i love you now" and "slumber party, pillow fight; my eyes on your eyes" PILLOW FIGHTS WITH HIM????????? PLAYFIGHTING AND THEN YOU'RE ALL OUT OF BREATH LAYING ON TOP OF EACH OTHER ALL TANGLED UP STARING INTO EACH OTHER'S EYES WITH SMILES ON YOUR FACES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

LOVER'S ROCK BY TV GIRL - THIS! THIS RIGHT HERE! THIS IS IT! "are you sick of me? would you like to be?" i am seriously unwell

now........ i have some silly stuff lmao

SEXY AND I KNOW IT BY LMFAO - BEAR WITH ME BEAR WITH ME HE WOULD DEFINITELY UNIRONICALLY LIKE THIS OK I KNOW IT (if i tell u that i might also like it will u still think i'm cool....) IT'S FUN

hot in here by nelly - hot boy song no need to explain

hot n cold by katy perry - don't ask it makes sense in my head....

on a very small side note - if satoru was my girlfriend i think "sexy and i know it" would actually be our song; we'd have fake fuckboy competitions - who can act more like an absolute dipshit and then the winner gets to kiss the loser stupid heheh

#♡˳·˖ mtalks #friends!!#i love talking about him with you<3333 #also! i wanna sing karaoke with him lmao #IT'D BE SO MUCH FUN #and this is coming from a person who's never done karaoke before #i'm willing to do it with him though #thank you for sharing the songs with me ari!!!!#ari <3

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voraciousvore · 11 months

Text

Bucky's (8/44)

***Contains soft vore***

Chapter 8: Ronny

Ronny finally had to acknowledge the truth: He was bitter, miserable, and lonely. He knew this had been his reality for a long time, but he had deflected and denied his feelings, shoving them down until they poisoned him. He knew he had become a toxic person. He wanted to change, to be a better man, but he was just so tired and jaded. Change was a difficult beast to wrestle with, especially when he was so entrenched in his ways, and his inner demons consumed him with fire.

He had difficulty facing the past harms he had done, in his fits of rage. He had tortured that poor human woman at work, and nearly killed her more than once. He had trouble reigning in his violent temper. He projected everything he hated onto her, imagined her as an embodiment of his slutty ex-wife who had cheated on him, dumped him, and destroyed him. Only when he was forced to listen to hours of her being abused in the worst ways by another evil Giant, to the point where she was completely broken and begged Ronny to put her out of her misery, had Ronny been able to see her in a different light. His illusion had been shattered, along with all his unhealthy coping mechanisms and internal logic that had held up his fragile ego.

He had helped her, in the end, but without acknowledging her. He never apologized for his sadistic behavior. Indeed, despite her being so small and unassuming, compared to a big Giant like him, Ronny couldn’t bear to face her. He was ashamed of himself. He didn’t want anybody, least of all her, to see him as he truly was, broken and pathetic and wounded inside. He maintained his sullen, hateful façade, careful to protect himself, to not open up to anyone. He didn’t have the strength to endure another heartache, more pain and rejection. He stayed inside his shell.

Despite these feelings, deep down he yearned for companionship and love. Above all, he was tired of being alone. After suffering another lonely night holed up in his dirty apartment, wallowing in depression and filth, Ronny finally decided to do something about it. He started to clean his apartment, but quickly got overwhelmed and fatigued. He gave up and flopped back down on the couch with a sigh. He pulled out his phone and began mindlessly scrolling through it. After some deliberation, he downloaded a dating app. He figured it couldn’t hurt anything.

He needed a picture of himself to create a profile. Ronny didn’t have any recent pictures, since he didn’t go anywhere or have friends to hang out with. Despite the cringe involved, he decided it would be easiest to just keep it simple and snap a photo using a mirror. He got off the couch, stretched, and lumbered over to the bathroom.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing his pale features, the hollows under his eyes, and his messy black hair. He needed to clean himself up first. He changed out of his rumpled shirt into a crisper, more presentable outfit. He washed his face and slicked back his hair with a healthy amount of gel, making the black shine. Much better. He captured his likeness in the photo, keeping his expression cold and serious, as was characteristic for him. He didn’t have it in him to smile, even for a snapshot.

He kept his description in his profile minimal. He would let his good looks do the talking, since he knew he was rotten in his core. He didn’t feel like putting much effort into what he figured was destined to be a futile exercise when all was said and done. He set up his account and started swiping while laying back lazily on his couch. Ronny was picky as to what women he chose. If they revealed too much skin or dressed in a manner he considered scandalous or whorish, he’d flat-out reject them. He avoided women who seemed vapid or airheaded. He didn’t read the profiles too closely, since he figured plenty of Giantesses were liars or would embellish the truth, but he did make sure to avoid anyone who was looking for a hookup or casual sex. Such a practice disgusted him. He desired somebody who would be loyal and submissive to him, whom he could control.

Ronny was an exceptionally handsome Giant in his own right, so he had no trouble getting matches. Before long, he was chatting with a Giantess whom he believed had potential to be a good match for him. Ronny kept the small talk to a minimum, even in text, since he wasn’t much of a conversationalist. He pushed to schedule a lunch date for the next day, Sunday. The Giantess agreed, and they had a date.

The next day, Ronny dressed up nicely for his date and headed out. He didn’t feel excited or nervous, like most people would be when meeting a new possible partner. He was grumpy and sour. He believed the date would go horribly and he was wasting his time, but he forged ahead regardless. He headed downtown, to the leisure part of the city with all the bars and dance clubs and restaurants. He hadn’t been here in a long time, not since before his divorce. He felt awkward, being around other people in such an environment. He judged others harshly for indulging in such dens of debauchery, as he saw them. His ex would be the type of person to come here, showing off her cleavage to strange Giant men, and he resented that.

He had invited his date to a new restaurant that was getting a lot of buzz lately, called Bucky’s. He heard they served humans as food there, and the concept intrigued him. He had come close to eating his human coworker before, and he still recalled her tantalizing sweet taste on his tongue. He wondered if all humans tasted like that, or if they each had their own unique flavor. He was looking forward to the meal more than he was looking forward to the drudgery of a first date, and having to meet and be presentable for a new person.

Meanwhile, inside the restaurant, Patty was idling anxiously inside the human display case. This Sunday was especially busy, and the selection of humans had thinned out considerably. She was breathing hard and pacing again, forgetting that her legs were moving on their own. Two huge people, a Giant and Giantess, approached the display tank and she sucked in her breath apprehensively. The two were acting a bit awkward, as if they didn’t know each other that well, so Patty assumed it must be a first date. The woman looked uncomfortable and the man was surly. They grabbed a menu and glanced over it together. Patty watched the man’s eyes surreptitiously dart over to the woman while she was distracted, surveying her body. He seemed irritated, but Patty couldn’t tell why. She was a very attractive woman, after all, with nice curves.

The woman didn’t notice his gaze, but she appeared even more unsettled after glancing at the menu. The Giant man bent down to examine the humans in the tank. With his huge face so close, Patty could see how strikingly handsome and well-groomed he was. She squirmed with discomfort as his eyes settled on her. He had a cold intensity in his dark eyes that frightened her, but she couldn’t tear her own gaze away, as if hypnotized. He looked her up and down and flexed his throat muscles in a hungry swallow. Patty knew then that she was going to be chosen next, and her stomach dropped with fear.

The waitress took their order, and unlocked the lid on the tank as the customers left to sit at their table. Patty grimaced as she was grabbed up and taken to the kitchen, but she knew better than to try and run. She understood now why the rest of the humans seemed resigned to their fate. There really was no chance of escape.

Instead of Chef Cruor, Patty was handed off to the other portly redheaded Giant with the beard, Chef Gore. He stuffed a pill in her face and got to work preparing a plate of pasta. Patty was then shoved into a sticky, steaming mess of cheese, sausage, sauce, and rigatoni noodles. The chef submerged her up to her chin, so she would have considerable trouble climbing out on her own, with all the trappings being so thick and heavy on her small frame. The melted cheese was like glue plastering her limbs to her sides. The waitress collected the plate and delivered it to the table posthaste.

Patty could tell immediately that the date between the two strangers was not going well. The man was moodier than ever, and the woman was acting as trapped as Patty felt while buried in pasta. The conversation was stilted, with long pauses. The Giant stirred his pasta absently with his fork and took a bite, not paying much attention to the human within. The Giantess, similarly, played with her salad.

“I can’t believe you ordered a human to eat,” the woman finally blurted out, cutting to the heart of what was bothering her from the beginning. “That’s so barbaric, Ronny. I would have never agreed to come here if I knew they served humans.” She made a face.

“What’s the issue? It’s not like you have to eat one. Nobody’s forcing you,” Ronny retorted, a bit miffed. He ate another big bite of pasta, glancing down this time at the human in his meal.

“But I work with humans at my job,” the Giantess countered. “They’re people, just like us. Only smaller is all. It just... doesn’t feel right.”

Ronny scowled. “So what? I do too. Humans are inferior to us Giants. Besides, you have no right to judge me for my dietary choices. I mean, look at you.” He gestured vaguely, but didn’t elaborate further, just continued to dig into his pasta.

Her eyes narrowed and she set down her fork. “Just what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

A spark of rage flashed over Ronny’s face. From her vantage point down below, Patty could see his jaw clench and a muscle twitch in his neck. “You’re really going to make me spell it out? Just look at how you’re dressed, with your boobs and butt hanging out for everybody to see! I wouldn’t have matched with you if I knew you were just some immodest whore!”

The Giantess stood up from the table, clenching her fists. Patty knew what was coming and watched with delight as the lady smacked Ronny hard across the face with an open palm. He stared at her, too stunned to respond, as his cheek turned bright red and his eyes watered, ever so slightly. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and said coldly, “This date is over.” She turned on her heel, grabbed her purse, and marched out in a huff. Ronny slumped in his chair, simmering with fury and humiliation as he felt the prying eyes of the other restaurant patrons on him.

“Smooth,” Patty murmured to herself sardonically. She was so caught up in the drama of the moment, like watching a soap opera on TV, she forgot the reality of her position. Unfortunately, Ronny picked up on her commentary.

“Excuse me?” Ronny bellowed, leaning forward in his chair so he loomed over her with malice. Patty was not cowed into submission by his gargantuan mass, however. She was frustrated and annoyed with her circumstances as they were, and she knew this Giant wasn’t going to do anything to hurt her beyond swallowing her whole, which he would do anyway regardless of what she said. So, instead of keeping her mouth shut, she unloaded her pent-up feelings, all her anger and despair and fear, onto him.

“She’s right, you know,” she spat bitterly. “You have no right to eat me! I AM a person, not just some piece of meat!”

Ronny’s expression darkened, and Patty realized she had made a terrible mistake, but it was too late. She couldn’t take back her words now. With a snarl, Ronny wrenched her out of the pasta with his fork and crammed her into his mouth. He chewed the pasta furiously, although he was still cognizant enough not to crunch up the human in his mouth. He didn’t want to have to pay full price for her. He was surprised how good she tasted, but different from the human back at the office. She was more savory, meatier, like a cut of filet mignon. He could see why she had been given the nickname “Patty.” He forgot his anger for a short moment as he appreciated her flavor before swallowing forcefully.

He felt her resist against his esophagus as she descended through his body into his stomach. She struggled when she reached his belly, and despite himself, he felt a stab of guilt. She hadn’t really done anything to deserve his wrath, or deserve to be eaten. She had irresponsibly run her mouth, sure, but it wasn’t as if she were the one that slapped him across the face. His hand drifted down to his midsection. Despite his guilt, he had to admit she felt really good inside his stomach. He had never actually eaten a human before, and he liked the feeling. It was comforting, satisfying, and seemed to fill his heart as much as his belly. He knew he’d definitely be coming back to the restaurant for more.

Patty supposed she couldn’t really blame the Giant for eating her, as frustrated as she felt. He did pay for her, after all. That was her expected role, to be an entrée. She still chuckled at the thought of him getting slapped across the face. He had gotten his just desserts for his rudeness. She kept that mental image in her thoughts to sustain her battered spirit, even as Ronny ate the rest of his meal and she was showered with masticated pasta and salad.

He didn’t keep her inside his stomach for very long, to Patty’s surprise. He flagged down a waitress and asked for the rope and bowl early. Patty listened to him from inside with confusion, but also relief. When he dragged her out of his mouth, he placed her down in the bowl with a surprisingly gentle movement. Patty looked back at him questioningly. He had a pained look on his face.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, rubbing his neck and averting his eyes with shame. “I’m trying to be a better man, but I’m still a rotten, horrible person in my core… I don’t know if I can change…” He said this statement quietly, almost more to himself than to Patty. She gazed up at him wordlessly, not sure how to react. Before she could find her voice, the waitress scooped up the bowl and took her away.

Chapter 9

Chapter 1

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