#more chips will NOT fill the void in my soul

[postapocalyptic-cryptic]

the worst thing about binge eating disorder is that eating a normal amount triggers the urge to binge. do you understand how hard this makes recovery??? do you????? do you know how often you have to eat?? it’s fucking often!!!!! it’s like trying to sober up sitting at a bar. and you know what’s the real kicker? if you stop eating, that’s just a DIFFERENT FUCKING DISORDER!!!!!

[tightjeansjavi]

The Menu | Part 1

“Vices to fill a Void”

A/N: so I decided this is gonna be a two-parter because if theres one thing I’m good at, it’s edging my dear readers ;)

~word count: 3.4k~

Pairing | dark! Joel Miller x f! reader

Summary: Joel Miller has a menu concocted just for his customers. Pills? He’s got ‘em. Guns? Ammo? Name your price. Booze to warm the broken souls and hearts of the QZ? give him a holler. Everything comes with a price, of course. Joels got somethin’ special on his menu. Somethin’ that he doesn’t advertise freely. Y’gotta want it. Y’gotta have a desire that matches his own, only then will he offer what you seek.

Warnings: dark themes, two feral cats energy, mentions of deceased bodies, Joel is an asshole that knows how to get exactly what he wants. Dark! Joel, post!outbreak, Joel and Tess run the black market in the QZ, age gap, Joel is in his 40’s reader is in her late 20’s, mentions of drugs, smoking, alcohol, graphic depictions of violence, reader is a spitfire with a no-shit taking attitude, enemies to lovers type beat, Joel likes to play mind games, reader has no physical descriptions, readers nickname is Angel, +18 minors dni!

The first time you meet the infamous Joel Miller is in his and Tess’s apartment in one of the few available Boston QZ apartments. Rumor on the street is that Joel and Tess are an item. When in all actuality, they’re business partners that occasionally fuck. His options, however, are not just limited to Tess. He likes to keep that part of his business on the low. He’s got a reputation, sure. But he doesn’t boast it proudly like a peacock. He knows his expertise, and he knows it well. His purpose in the structure of the QZ was smuggling. He’d bring pills, booze, ammo, guns, and anything else that was desirable. He’d trade for ration cards; a hefty amount of them. Sometimes, he’d allow his customers to trade their bodies, but he was quite picky, and it ain’t had anything to do with women’s appearances. In that department, he indulged in all body types. What he was most intrigued about was their minds. Their ability to survive, and most importantly, what they desired most in this shit-hole world.

He liked it when they were verbal. Silence was not a name in his game. He liked it when they showed up at his doorstep knowing exactly what it was that they wanted from him. He could play all the cards, and he played them well. He could be empathetic if they asked for it. He could pretend to love them just for the night. He could yank their hair, dig his nails into their flesh and call them a dirty, useless whore, but only if it was requested. See, he wasn’t all that brutal of a man, but if you weren’t careful and direct, he might send you home with more than just an ache between your thighs. He knew how to fuck, and he enjoyed it almost as much as he enjoyed beating a man senseless, almost.

You, however, held no interest to know what laid beneath his weathered jeans. You showed up wanting one thing, and one thing only. A vice to fill the hole in the void of your heart. You knew that Joel Miller’s menu was just what the doctor ordered.

Tess and Joel were seated at the kitchen table going through their supplies for the day. They had their usual customers, but Joel was always intrigued to see new faces walk through his door.

A cigarette dangled between his lips as he flipped through a stack of ration cards. The scent of tobacco wafted through the cracks in the door frame as your knuckles rapped firmly along the chipped paint. You knocked once, then twice five seconds later. It was customary like a code. Not that Joel or Tess had any concerns with FEDRA; they were a part of his regular cycle of customers too.

“Come in.” His voice was thick, deep, and dripping with authority.

The tip of the cigarette glowed bright orange as he inhaled the toxic fumes. The nicotine that coursed through his system calmed his nerves. Everyone had their own skeletons in their closets after all.

He paused his counting momentarily as he listened to the door handle squeak before it was pushed open.

“Sit.” He rasped with his freehand gesturing to the open seat in front of the table. “State your business.”

You watched the way the smoke coiled around his head like an ashy halo through the stagnant air. His brow cocked in your direction as his eyes zoned in on the stack of ration cards that you pulled from your jacket pocket.

“I was told that your menu is designed to cater to one's vices. I’m needin’ a bottle of booze, and a pack of smokes if you got any.” You placed the ration cards along the table before leaning back against the chairs frame.

“We ain’t got a whole pack, unfortunately. Five cards gets you five sticks, and three gets ya a bottle of hooch.” He declared in his warm Texas twang.

He was handsome, you’d give him that satisfaction only.

“I’ve got ten cards total. How about you throw’n two more smokes to make it even?” You countered smoothly as you crossed your arms against your chest.

“A negotiator, huh? Well, I'll tell ya what, girlie. Y’got yourself a deal. Y’new around here? Ain’t seen ya before.” He knew pretty much every face in the QZ. But yours remained a mystery. He wasn’t all too big of a fan of mysteries.

“Don’t think that is any of your concern, Joel.” You ignored his question as you passed off the cards.

“True.” He mused with a grin tugging across his lips. ‘S’alright. I’ll jus’ end up findin’ out about you in my own way.” He shrugged with the utmost casualness that sent your blood boiling under the surface. “Besides, my customers always end up comin’ back for more.” He grabbed a bottle of hooch and seven freshly rolled cigarettes concealed in tinfoil.

“There ain’t much for you to find out. Wouldn’t go wastin’ your time.” You grabbed the bottle swiftly before tucking it into the inner lining of your jacket. Before he could send you on your way, however, you unrolled the tinfoil to inspect the handiwork. Once you were satisfied with the merch, you plucked one of the cigarettes and placed it between your lips. “You got a light I can borrow?”

His nose twitched and his eyes squinted tightly before he reached into his pocket and pulled out a lighter. He beckoned you silently to lean in as he ignited the flame.

“Y’know, these are a nasty habit to break.” He leaned back into his chair with his own cigarette dying between his lips. “Ain’t nothin’ like a good ole’ fashioned nicotine addiction.”

You scoffed under your breath as you took a deep inhale of the cancerous smoke that filled your lungs. “Says the man puffin’ away on one right in front of my face.”

He didn’t even look half fazed by your remark as he blew the smoke drifting from his lips off to the side.

You stared at one another a second longer before you stood up from your chair and snatched the cigarettes from the table.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you, Joel Miller. See ya around.”

Before he could respond, you were already slipping back out his apartment door and into the hallway.

“Man, she’s got a pair of balls on her, huh?” Tess mused from her seat alongside him.

“Yeah,” He smirked. “She sure does.”

The next time you saw Joel Miller was a few weeks later. You were assigned with assisting in dumping deceased infected into the deep pits where their flesh would be burned and melted away and all that would be remaining was their brittle bones. You had done this job enough times to get used to the putrid stench of rotting flesh. Others, however, couldn’t stand the smell. Some would pass out, others would empty what little was in their stomachs.

A denim-clad shoulder brushed against you as you lifted another body from the truck bed.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Angel.” Joel’s voice was muffled through the bandana he wore across his face, but you knew it was him just from that Texas twang of his.

Your eyes rolled back as walked past him and dropped the body into the flames that engulfed it.

“C’mon now.” He mused. “I know y’heard me.” He pressed.

“Fuck off, Joel.” You muttered under your breath as you bumped his shoulder harshly.

“Y’break that nasty habit yet?” He asked with a twinge of curiosity.

“Nope. Don’t plan on it either.”

Much to your relief, he walked away without speaking another word. It was short-lived however as he was standing right behind you in line to receive your ration cards for the day. The air was hot and almost unbearable as you wiped the sweat of your brow along your sleeve. When the cards were placed into your outstretched palm you shoved them deep into your pocket. The pay wasn’t worth the work that you put in.

Before you could disappear around the corner of the alley to head home, a hand grasped your shoulder rather firmly and before you could reach for your concealed weapon, your back was met with something hard that nearly knocked the air from your lungs.

Joel Miller.

“Just what the fuck do you think you’re doin’, Joel?!” You hissed under your breath as he flipped you around to face him.

“Got a proposition for ya, girlie. Trust me, you’ll want in.” His voice dipped down an octave as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of pills. Painkillers you suspected. The kind of shit that people could easily find themselves getting addicted to.

“And what makes you fuckin’ think that I would wanna do anythin’ for you?” What the fuck was this guys problem? The nerve he had.

“Cus’ I know there’s somethin’ that you want. Somethin’ that you need. Besides, you ain’t gonna make it long here if you don’t start usin’ people. S’the only way to survive in this world now. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. Tess and I wanna branch out further and in order to do that, we gotta get the rest of FEDRA off our backs.”

“You ain’t know shit about me, Joel. I’m doin’ just fine on my own.” You ripped your arm from his grasp, but he was quicker than you expected.

“I ain’t askin’ you, Angel. I’m tellin.’ Now, you’re gonna take these pills, and you’re gonna go on over to those guys o’there, and you’re gonna trade them. Y’get half the ration cards from the deal. Seem fair?” His tall stature loomed over you like a shadow being casted across the sun. Everything about this man was massive. His hands. His bulging arms. His shoulders. He was built like a fucking fridge, and he clearly wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Is this what you do to all of your customers? Corner them into alleys and force them to do your dirty work for you?” You scoffed as you ripped the baggy from his hand. “And I get all the cards. I ain’t gonna let you just go and boss me around for half.”

“Jus’ the pretty ones that have a mouth to ‘em.” He mused with a wicked grin. “Fine. Y’get all the cards, but only if they agree to trade. Go on now, Angel. Time's a tickin away.” He nudged you forward with the palm of his calloused hand resting along your lower back.

“Asshole.” You hissed under your breath as you stashed the pills into your pocket before departing from the alley. If there was one thing you were good at, it was getting men to give you exactly what you wanted. You could flutter your lashes, giggle, flirt a little and their little egos would be crushed to dust beneath your fingertips.

“Hey boys, got a minute?” You spoke in a honeyed voice as the three officers diverted their attention towards you.

Joel watched from the shadows of the alley as you worked your charm like a fiddle. He was impressed with your natural skills. You certainly were no pushover. He did wonder if this was all a facade that you wore confidently. He thought briefly about what it would be like to have you beneath his sheets. What would you request from him? Would you ask him to be sweet and gentle? To fuck you like a man oughta? Or, would you be willing to share your deepest, darkest, filthy desires with him? He hoped for the latter.

When the deal was done, you made your way back across the street. Maybe Joel Miller was right. Maybe you should start using people for what they have. Who gave a fuck about morale anyway?

“How’d it go?” he inquired with his broad arms crossed against his chest as he leaned back against the brick wall.

“They wouldn’t take the bait unfortunately.” You let out a faux sigh. “Guess the deal is off.”

“What a shame, Angel. I surely thought you had it in ya. Guess I was wrong. Oh well. Good luck to ya.” He pushed himself off the wall only to find himself being pushed right up against it. Your palm lay flat against his chest as your freehand reached into your pocket and pulled out a single ration card.

His brow raised curiously as you went to slip the card into his back pocket. His eyes widened when he felt the warmth of your fingers searing through his jeans. At this close proximity, he got a proper whiff of your natural scent, and his cock pathetically twitched in the tight confines of the denim.

“Here’s your half of the deal. Decided to be generous.” You whispered through the thick growing tension.

His hand reached up to grab your wrist but before he could make contact with your skin, you were already stepping away from his reach. Your fingers rose in a mock salute before you turned on your heel and walked away.

Fuck. She’s perfect.

The next time Joel Miller saw you it's past curfew. Hours to be exact. The Boston QZ streets are quiet sans the labored breathing and deep grunts coming from a group of low-life scumbags.

“I already told you, I don’t have shit on me!” You emptied out your pockets to show these fuckers that you weren’t messing around. Would raw honesty really keep these men from tearing you apart?

“Bullshit. Y’got stuff back at your place, right? C’mon now darlin’, don’t lie to us. We’ve seen you hangin’ around Miller. Y’workin’ with him?” The man that had you pinned against the brick wall pressed further.

“Oh, for fuck sakes! Are y’all really that boneheaded to think that i’m gonna be carryin’ merch on me out in the open like this?!” You yelled out of frustration as you tried to pin your wrists free to reach your concealed knife.

“How about you shut the fuck up and tell us where Joel’s apartment is, and we won’t have to kill you. How’s that sound?” The man twisted your wrists tightly to the point where you were just waiting to hear a sickening crack.

“I don’t know where his apartment is, asshole. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you because i’m not a fuckin’ rat!” You hissed between your gritted teeth as you threw your head back in one swift movement right into the face of the man that was holding you hostage. His nose crunched audibly from the force as he stumbled back right onto his ass.

Blood pooled and gushed down his lips as he yelled out a slew of profanities in your direction. Just as you were reaching for your knife, it was knocked from your grasp and clattered to the concrete out of your reach.

A fist collided with your face that sent you slamming into the brick wall with your ears wildly ringing.

You detected a familiar voice through your half-conscious haze as you slumped down to the ground with a labored wheeze.

A sickening crunch, followed by a strangled yell as Joel had one of the men in a headlock. Their body dropped to the ground like a bag of bricks. Eyes forever unmoving. The man that you headbutted was desperately trying to crawl away as Joel staggered after him. He bent down, grasping the hilt of your knife in his calloused palm.

His pupils were dark like a never ending black pit as he sent his steel-toed boot colliding into his gut over and over again. The man’s wails died in his throat as Joel flipped him over onto his back and slit his throat with one fatal swipe. Blood spurted from the entry wound and speckled Joel’s skin in a spray of crimson.

The third man almost got away, but Joel fired a bullet right into his spine without a second thought.

He focused his attention on you as he crouched down, knife still in his grasp, dripping with blood onto the pavement. His freehand grasped your face gently as he assessed your injuries. His good ear detected the sound of tires crunching under gravel; FEDRA.

“Angel, we need to go. We need to move. NOW.” He spoke urgently as he tucked your knife away before placing that hand along your shoulder. “FEDRA is gonna be here any minute, and I don’t know about you, but my ass is NOT bein’ thrown in lockup!”

When you didn’t immediately respond to his dire request, he took matters into his own hands, literally. You felt his strong arms lift you from the ground as if you weighed nothing. He left the crime scene in a flash. He was speaking to you, but you couldn’t detect his words as his mouth was moving too fast.

The last thing you remembered seeing was his dark, espresso brown eyes, and his blood spattered skin.

“Need’ya to open your eyes for me, sweetheart. C’mon. Guy knocked ya pretty good, but you’ll live.” Joel murmured close to your face as you were coming to.

What the fuck.

Your lashes fluttered for a moment and then snapped open. Despite the ache in your face from being punched, and the pounding in your skull, you immediately shot your hands upwards and shoved harshly at his broad chest.

“Joel?! What the actual fuck–”

“Ah, there she is. The sleepin’ beauty awakes, finally!” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat as he moves off the couch to give you space to breathe.

“What the fuck are you doin’ here, Joel?”

“Wow.” He tuts under his breath dissaprovingly. “Can’t even get a thank you for savin’ your fuckin’ life?”

“I had the situation handled on my own. What the hell were you doin’ out past curfew anyway?” You sat up a little too fast as blood rushed to your head.

His strong hands were gently easing you back down to a lying position before he was backing off again.

“Easy now, Angel. I wouldn’t sit up a’that fast if I were you.” He warned you sternly.

“Well, good thing you aren’t me, huh?” You snapped back as you swung your legs over the side of the couch.

This time he was more forceful in his actions as his hands pressed down on your shoulders firmly. “I said, stay put. God, can’t you jus’ fuckin’ listen to me when I tell ya to take it easy? You’re gonna bust your nose back open, and the stitches on the back of your head. Just chill the fuck out.” You could taste his hot breath on his tongue and feel his pulse quicken. The bulging veins in his neck protruded through the thin skin.

You swallowed harshly as your gaze wavered along the remnants of blood on his skin. Why didn’t he bother to wash it off? You couldn't help but wonder.

“I didn’t fuckin’ need your help, Joel. And you still haven’t answered my previous question either.”

He rolled his eyes before he lifted his hands from your shoulders and stalked away into the kitchen. You heard him grumbling under his breath as he slammed open a cabinet door that was already hanging by the hinges on its last legs.

“Oh, I see. So you’re just gonna ignore me now? Y’know, its fuckin’ rude to not answer someone when they ask you a question, Joel.” You muttered mostly to yourself, but you secretly had hoped that he heard you too.

Two semi-cleaned glasses were yanked from the sink and lifted from their rims as Joel swiped up a bottle of whiskey before stalking back over to the couch. He slammed the glasses down on the faded coffee table before popping the cap off with his teeth.

You were infuriating. Disrespectful. And he wanted nothing more than to put you right back into your fucking place. He however, refrained from doing so and instead poured a large splash of amber liquor into both glasses.

“Y’know, Angel. One day that mouth of yours is gonna send ya six feet under.” He stated firmly as he picked up his glass, swirled the liquor around before throwing it down his throat in one gulp.

Your eyes narrowed into slits as you glared at him from the couch. You reached for your own glass as you slowly sat up. He was pouring himself another when you downed the liquor without a fuss.

“I am well aware of that, Joel.” You deadpanned and he poured you another.

“Good, that’s real good, Angel. S’then it should come as no surprise to you that I think you’re a fuckin’ disrespectful brat.” He rasped low and deep as his words rumbled like an oncoming storm.

The tension in the room was palpable as you stared one another down. Two predators with sharpened claws ready to strike.

______

please follow @tightjeansjaviupdates for fic updates as I no longer use a masterlist!

banners made by the lovely @saradika

[justasecretflower]

🥀 Meeting Jeff! The killer again after dating him before he was a proxy🤍.

A/N- The long awaited sequel to my. Dating Jeff the killer before he was a proxy. Yes, I am still doing requests, except I’m writing really slow because I’m sick :(.

~fluff.

___________________________________________

- you met him again at a dingy old convenience store while you were out with your friends.

- he didn’t come back from murdering someone, he was just kinda hanging out and getting some junk food and that’s when he saw you, and you saw him.

___________________________________________

One of my friends pushed open the door with an exaggerated heave, laughing with my other three friends. After a long night of bar hopping with my friends f/n suggested that we stock up on gas station junk food then have a movie marathon at their house. Everyone agreed of course, being absolutely wasted and it being a Saturday night.

I walked into the local convenience store. The flickering lights reminded me of a worn down elementary school, the metal shelves top to bottom filled with up with sugary sweet candy to salty and spicy chips. bunch of junk food and a slushy machine was turning and making 3 flavors of slushy. Mindlessly, I walk towards the chips aisle. My shoes lightly tap on the dirty cold floor, crossing my arms to gain warmth in the cool atmosphere while my eyes roll over the options. I hear someone strolling through the aisle with me, instinctively I look over to see..Jeff?

He was looking at me, his head turned and his eyes glittered in such a peculiar way that I had to make sure I was seeing things right. His cheeks were cut, making him have a permanent smile, his black hair now shoulder length and tousled, dirty black converse, and a white hoodie stained with some slightly dried up blood stains. He looks so different, so..not him? Like after he went away he lost all sanity, fell into the depths of a black hole to never return, never find himself again. Nonetheless his eyes were still the same the same ocean blue, the ocean that I fell into and happily let myself drown in, the eyes that looked at me, one day, with a deep affection, with love and care, the eyes that would scan over mine, and without any words create poetry in my soul. My heart squeezed and started thumping hard and fast, like out of instinct to try and reach out for him. Reach out for his touch, his voice, his arms. I couldn’t even get a word out before f/n stuck their head into the chips aisle and asked if I was done in a chipper voice.

I just take a bag of hot fries, eyes still trained on Jeff, and walk away from him, sensing his eyes still burned into my back. Like he was having a hard time taking his gaze away from me out of pure subconscious instinct. I may be reading into it too much.

But it seemed like we both wanted to say something to each other.

___________________________________________

- Jeff would follow you to your friends house that night.

- it took him awhile to muster up the words bubbling in his throat, stalking you and just..standing in front of you all the time.

- eventually he rasped out your name in the most desperate, lost, love-filled tone that made you literally almost fall down to your knees.

- his tone was more so of desperation because of the void left in his heart after he became a killer and you had left his life. He had needed you back, to fill it.

- he tells you what he does now, killing, in a casual manner. But inside? He’s freaking out that you’ll leave him again.

- he can’t let anyone know he’s freaking out though…

- comes through your window to your room all the time?

- dates are just the park at night like when you were kids. Alone in the slide together just talking about random stuff.

- that or you’re having a movie night.

- he doesn’t give physical affection that much. But he likes receiving it.

- he’ll just wait for you to be in the right position for him to lay down his head so you can play with his hair

- calls it “stupid” (he loves it)

- bullies you /srs

- doesn’t introduce you to the other creeps not for your safety but because he’s jealous.

- randomly likes going into the forest just to aggressively push you up to a tree, grip your hair like there’s no tomorrow and kiss you hard.

- then walks away😟

- whenever you say “I love you” he says “you better”

- I don’t think he’s ever actually said “I love you” as an adult to you.

- if you do ever end up visiting the mansion in his room, he’ll push you off him if someone walks in his room.

- scarily overprotective

- he’s such a meanie too.

- he’s overprotective, unstable, and mean.

- if you’re arguing, he’ll punch a wall near you just to scare you.

- I’m sorry I romanticize him a lot you guys need this..

- when he’s gone for missions he doesn’t call or text.

- but when he gets back he’s super clingy even though he denies it.

- yes, he’s toxic. But he’s also just a really really mentally broken man that needs some love here and there.

- he’ll never give you a white picket fence dream. He’ll give you like..random 7-11 runs at 1:30 am, and chug a monster while discussing random stuff

- he doesn’t call you pet names. If he does it’s baby and that’s when he’s being super soft or sarcastic.

- definitely gave you a necklace with his blood in it…

Hope you liked it!!

Working on a bunch of drafts rn✍️

Tags

[honey-minded-hivemind]

A Drop In The Universe, A Platonic Yandere X-Men Reader Post:

You wake up, but where you wake up is not where you usually are. It is cold, dark, and it shifts and coils and pulses around you, like enchanted ink or like the night planned to swallow you whole. Yet your drop of hope is a building, with red brick and plants across the windows and the faint warmth seeming to emanate from it. You wander towards it, until it seems to warp to fit you, a door opened under your fingers, and soon you're in a diner, connected to what looks like a school or college or library.

The air here is warm, inviting, with even gray walls with paintings lining them, windows that bring in light (you know not from where), so many potted and hanging green plants, and chairs set up at amber brown tables, a place for people, yet only you so far...

The smell of food and sweetness is in the air, but you don't see any food or drinks, only the counter. There is no register, no workers, no trash or mess. Just clean, neat, empty places, as though waiting to be filled, but no one to fill them.

"Hello, dear."

The sudden voice startles you, and you whirl around to see, sitting in the chair behind you, someone else. Their eyes are warm and bright, cool and dark at the same time. Their hair seems brown, but is then black, then golden, then white, then pink, each time you blink it's something new. Their skin changes as well, from human to shades to some inhuman, or seeming to turn invisible as well. Glasses sit on their nose, and they smile, welcoming and slightly amused.

"Never seen this place before?"

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak quite yet. Who is this person? Why are you here? Do they know where everyone is?

The person chuckles, eyes squinting a little, then speak. "Ah, well. We always come back around here. It's quite a fun place, once you pick out where you want to go."

You don't understand what they're saying. We? Where even are you two?

"Yes, we. Never met me, huh? Well, yes, you have. You just don't remember. I only remember each time we're back here." They never seem to lose their happy, laid back demeanor, simply stretching a little, then they tilt their head at the chair across from them. An invitation. You take it, wondering who this stranger is, and what they know.

"You see, my dear, I am you, and you are me, but we both aren't at the same time. There has been many yous, many mes, many wes, and each time we come here is the one time we get to talk. It is very confusing, but the point is, it's like, say, a hive, with bees who are all related and intertwined and usually genetically similar, if not the exact same, but we share one mind or soul between the lot of us all. So we all are our own person, but we're the same, or similar. A variant, if you will. I am a part of you, and you a part of me. I am your power, your virtues, your morals, your flaws, and you are the life, the central unit, the one who sees and hears all. And we as a whole make one, all of us make one, and that one needs to make a choice.

"What choice, you may ask? Well, my dear, it's a matter of life. Your department. We... well, we aren't currently we. We're somewhere, like a womb or a void or a place between places, not life or death, just being... and we have to go back. But there are a lot of places to go, you know, and so many options, and we only get to choose one each time. Sometimes we choose something entirely new, like dragonfruit ice-cream. Sometimes we choose a classic, like a chickate chip cookie. Even some messy choices, like cherry pie. The more cutesy ones are like boba tea. Inviting, feel-good worlds are like hot cocoa. Crack ones are like poprocks in soda. What I and you need to decide is what we want this time. So, what are you in the mood for?"

Is... is this person crazy?

Other worlds? We as in me and them, being one and the same yet not? Powers and virtues and flaws? Poprocks?! Are they out of their mind? You want to tell then they aren't making sense, that something isn't right, but they laugh, and you feel a bit more relaxed. They don't seem scary or dangerous; they feel like an old friend, or like how a sweater feels in the mid-October breeze.

"We aren't crazy, dear. I know, it's a shock each time we do this. You're not the only one who's confused in here." They chuckle, but tap their fingers against the warm brown table, their glasses reflecting a bit of overhead light. "There's a lot out there, and I know we want to call it quits; we have before. It's just..." They sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose, their other hand taking their glasses off for a moment. They seem tired now, almost weary. "We... we have to choose. And we can't disappear. I'm afraid we're too important a person for that."

You stop them there, asking what they mean. Why can't you two, or you, we, whatever you are, rest? Is there something going on?

"Well, dear... As there is one us, we, there are infinite more of them."

Them? You ask who they mean...

"I mean the people we meet. The ones who are the reason we come here, time and time and time again. They cannot exist without us. They don't want to, and they simply... can't. There are many, many versions of them, some practically the same, some so different it makes your mind spin. Sometimes we are friends with them; sometimes enemies; we are even blood family in some worlds; but in the end, they exist only as long as we do. They stop when we do. They're drawn to us, no matter what we choose or what we do or where we go or if we cease to exist. It cannot be changed."

You stare, taking it all in.

There are people who you can't escape... An entire world of them... An entire Multiverse of them... and no matter what choices you make, or what world you choose, they will find you. You stare at your companion, and they seem almost sad, resigned, even. You pat their hand, making them look surprised. It fades away just as fast, as they pull you into a warm, sweet hug. It smells of honey and smoke, their sweater feels like fuzz and dandelions on your skin, their warmth sinks into you, and you both let your combined comfort sink in...

You ask what they recommend, pulling away to smile back at them, worried, but trying to make the best of this.

"Well... a snowcone would be a little bland, so maybe not one of those... might want to avoid the pigs-in-a-blanket, they're a bit too savory... caramel can be a little too sticky... apple pie is a bit too much to bite... so... what about some chocolate cake? It's sweet, dark, a little bitter, but it's a good bite, even rich..."

You nod, and suddenly there's a slice of cake before you. Your companion grins at you, and they take a forkful, and hold it up. You take a spoonful, and raise it to theirs. With a soft clink, you touch the pieces in a silent toast, then you take a bite...

The rich, deep taste rolls over your tongue... A hint of bitterness flecks it... Then the creamy filling glides in, sweet and conforting... And the bite is gone, and in a slow, dazed blink you slip away...

And then a new Reader enters a world, and a new adventure awaits, a world promises to them the moment they took a bite, and filled with people who'd come to love them someday, who'd do anything for them, no matter how dark it got or how bitter they became, with sweetness lining the cracked edges, a taste of despair and future warmth all in one...

[eldritch-spouse]

You swear you saw a glint of sadness in his expression. It might be presumptuous to ask but you feel the need to. Turning away from foraging for food, you look up at the god “Protector Saudramar, how has your day been going? You seem… lost in thought.”

He had been staring off for a while now, beyond the sea gently swaying before him, beyond his powers, dominions and virtues soaring dutifully through the skies. Saudramar looked past the clouds and saw the edges of Eden as the annex gently orbited Earth.

There's no words to describe the utter impotence he feels.

To be the pinnacle of perfection as a Protector yet desire so much more, know that he's capable of so much more but completely powerless to take his place amongst the great Fathers and Mothers. Born to see others fit into place like puzzle pieces while he's doomed to push against the walls of his cage.

Nothing he does can fill the void that's been growing in the siadar's very core. Every single day, boiling rage and vicious envy turn him into an increasingly sour shell of his former self. The pain of his own existence grows heavier on his weary shoulders and he retreats into his own mind to avoid putting those who have been entrusted to him at risk.

Most of these sentiments are unleashed in the great battles against Perdition and the Betrayer's growing forces. He has looked the first fiends in the face as he slayed their kin effortlessly, never a hint of fear to be found in his brilliant ocean eyes, just monumental hatred projected onto the abominations created by a rebel.

It was different, this time.

As he held one of those slithering, disgusting, deformed parodies of celestials- It had stared at him. In a way none had before.

It saw him. It saw the real him.

And the way that foul creature laughed in Saudramar's face made him pause.

You and Them are not so different.

It had rasped, bloodied and broken.

You live in the shadows of those that are inferior to you, as did They once.

Look at us now.

Saudramar couldn't kill it. He couldn't even process what was said to him in that moment. He launched the demonic lifeform into the bowels of its own degenerate annex and moved on. But those words, hissed through chipped teeth and a slithering tongue, held only truth, engraved themselves in his soul.

And the realization alone leaves a taste in the Protector's mouth he hasn't been able to wash off.

The Betrayer is a reflection of him.

The very things he's mercilessly slaughtering with others of his cast are no more than unauthorized creations, in an unauthorized annex, designed by a siadar who was also unhappy with their role in the universe.

Except, that one was strong enough to achieve a modicum of their vision, if only just for a glimpse in time. A window of self-fulfilment worth more than an entire existence of conformity.

What is he doing?

...

The sound of your soft voice has Saudramar snapping his gaze towards you, hardened stare gradually receding.

" Lesser. "

He has a complicated view of humanity. As much as he is unbelievably fond of your design, he's also of the opinion that this project was much too ambitious. The fruits of aimless impulse from Creators who, to him, have neither a plan nor a solution for the trouble your kind will eventually brew.

Alas, you are his favorite so far. Saudramar has witnessed many lessers be born and succumb to age, and not one was as captivating as you. He can't place what it is about you yet that's so appealing, but the Protector knows he'd like to keep you closer, the same way some other casts get to perform binding ceremonies with their favored.

You are his chosen.

But Saudramar won't burden you with that.

The god shakes his head.

" Fret not. Do you require my assistance? "

You smile, relieved. " No, my Lord. " There's a pause, you can clearly tell he's upset, and the siadar chides himself for displaying weakness like that to one of his entrusted.

" Was today's battle exhausting? "

He observes you forage idly.

" Never. Every day Perdition suffers the righteousness it deserves, and I am only fueled by its destruction. "

Saudramar squats when you look into his eyes. A pallid, beautiful hand reaches out, brushing over yours. One set of eyes studies the contrast, another keeps your attention on him.

" Not once shall the filth of the impure taint your sight. The land you step upon is under my protection, and harm will fall upon those who conceive of desecrating it. "

You hold onto his hand with both of yours, and Saudramar feels his chest blossom with a sensation that chases away the thunder in his soul for the briefest of moments.

" Can we cook for you tonight, Protector? " You offer, and Saudramar is thankful no one else is around to see the way he bleeds adoration through his stare.

" Of course, my lesser. "

He will have to hide you away from the seraphim this upcoming Spring, the though of you paired to another lesser is displeasing at best. None of the males here are of enough quality to impregnate you. You are exemplary, a perfect specimen.

Saudramar will protect you.

That's one thing he'll always be able to do, no matter what the future may bring.

" Now, finish. Night will fall soon. "

[glitteringaglarond]

'Do you think those halls are fair, where your King dwells under the hill in Mirkwood, and Dwarves helped in their making long ago? They are but hovels compared with the caverns I have seen here: immeasurable halls, filled with an everlasting music of water that tinkles into pools, as fair as Kheled-zâram in the starlight.

'And, Legolas, when the torches are kindled and men walk on the sandy floors under the echoing domes, ah! then, Legolas, gems and crystals and veins of precious ore glint in the polished walls; and the light glows through folded marbles, shell-like, translucent as the living hands of Queen Galadriel. There are columns of white and saffron and dawn-rose, Legolas, fluted and twisted into dreamlike forms; they spring up from many-coloured floors to meet the glistening pendants of the roof: wings, ropes, curtains fine as frozen clouds; spears, banners, pinnacles of suspended palaces! Still lakes mirror them: a glimmering world looks up from dark pools covered with clear glass; cities, such as the mind of Durin could scarce have imagined in his sleep, stretch on through avenues and pillared courts, on into the dark recesses where no light can come. And plink! a silver drop falls, and the round wrinkles in the glass make all the towers bend and waver like weeds and corals in a grotto of the sea. Then evening comes: they fade and twinkle out; the torches pass on into another chamber and another dream. There is chamber after chamber, Legolas; hall opening out of hall, dome after dome, stair beyond stair; and still the winding paths lead on into the mountains' heart. Caves! The Caverns of Helm's Deep! Happy was the chance that drove me there! It makes me weep to leave them.

'No, you do not understand,' said Gimli. 'No dwarf could be unmoved by such loveliness. None of Durin's race would mine those caves for stones or ore, not if diamonds and gold could be got there. Do you cut down groves of blossoming trees in the springtime for firewood? We would tend these glades of flowering stone, not quarry them. With cautious skill, tap by tap – a small chip of rock and no more, perhaps, in a whole anxious day – so we could work, and as the years went by, we should open up new ways, and display far chambers that are still dark, glimpsed only as a void beyond fissures in the rock. And lights, Legolas! We should make lights, such lamps as once shone in Khazad-dûm; and when we wished we would drive away the night that has lain there since the hills were made; and when we desired rest, we would let the night return.'

And this. This right here is why Gimli has been one of my favorite characters ever since I was a child. There is a reason my tumblr url is glitteringaglarond, and it’s this passage right here.

Gimli has proved himself to be many things throughout this story - he’s a badass, he is witty and intelligent, he has a brilliant sense of humor and is the funniest character in these books - but one of the most important things about him is his love for beauty.

We saw it in his longing to see Moria, regardless of the dangers. We saw it as he couldn’t help but turn aside and gaze into the waters of Kheled-zaram. We saw it as he praised the beauty of Galadriel. Gimli is a character with a deep, artistic, soulful love for beauty. And it comes across most strikingly here, in this passage.

Because Gimli is out of his element right now, traveling through this strange, dangerous, magical wood. He is injured and weary from battle, and is once again riding a horse - something that he explicitly dislikes. This is the absolute last situation where somebody should be unveiling their poetic soul, and yet that’s what Gimli does.

Because to Gimli love for beauty is stronger than weariness and fear and uncertainty. And while being in this forest makes him fearful, only being forced to leave a thing of beauty can make him weep.

So he tells Legolas about the caves, using language so poetic that we can’t help but see the caves through his eyes and appreciate their beauty in ways we might never have done otherwise. And even Legolas is moved.

I cannot overstate how important his love for beauty is to me, and unlike Gimli I am not enough of a wordsmith to communicate exactly how deeply the beauty of his soul, expressed through this love, touches me. The best I can do is express my joy at having been taught appreciation for beauty at such a young age by such a teacher, and I can only hope that like Gimli, I too can help others find an appreciation for the beauty around them that they might not otherwise have seen.

[callsigncherub]

His and Mine are the same - Prologue.

Summary: "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be;" - Emily Bronte.

Isabella Munro never believed she was capable of being loved. When she meets Bradley Bradshaw, an all consuming love teaches them both lessons about themselves they never knew they needed, until just the right moment.

This is my first ever series! Its a heavy one, a lot of angst! But there will be lots of fluff and smut in between. I hope everyone enjoys.

Bradley Bradshaw x OC! Isabella Munro

Warnings: Angst

Word Count: 1364 words

Growing up, most young girls are told stories of fairies and mythical creatures, princesses being saved by their prince in a land where there’s little evil. Stories with a happy ending. Most young girls dream about falling in love and living in the perfect world with their perfect prince, full of love and contentment.  

Protected from the vile, graphic, and downright soul shattering dangers of life, they hear these stories every night before bed, looking up at their mothers, with innocent eyes and they listen intently, engrossed by the idea of falling in love.

Most girls go on to live these stories in the real world, but they don’t always go to plan. Shielded by their mothers from experiencing the trials and tribulations of these tales, and most girls go on to find their new equilibrium. They meet their person; they experience true love in all its glory and then they tell their daughters the same stories their mothers told them. But for some young girls, this isn’t the case.

For some young girls, the experiences they encounter growing up are far more chilling than those same stories they heard when they were younger. Some girls grow up with their innocence stripped away far too soon. Some girls aren’t protected from the dangers of life. For some girls they live their lives in constant disruption. The love that they so desperately crave never comes. Instead, the horrors of humanity continue to rear their ugly heads as soon as even a small glimpse of hope for a happy future enters their life. They don’t get books filled with the purest of souls, instead they get empty pages with broken promises and a void too big to fill. The idea seems too bittersweet.

Over time it takes its toll, it becomes impossible to see the good in anything, in anyone. You love too hard, care to much and never have those feelings reciprocated. Somewhere between being that happy young girl the lines blur into a state of melancholy, the constant ache, the fear of realising loneliness is forever. Trapped by your roots, a lone weed in a field of wildflowers, the yearn to bloom.

That’s where the grief usually comes in. Slowly to begin with, like a parasite, eating away the memories of a happy childhood, the memories of being that little girl filled with hope, a bright future ahead of her, and then the dam finally breaks. All at once, an overbearing sadness, grieving the beautiful little personality once harboured by a young girl with the biggest hopes and dreams. A young girl with a toothy grin, that loved to play and sing and dance, who would swing as high as she could on the swings because that’s the closest, she could get to flying. But that same little one grew up too soon, and like many others, learnt in the hardest ways that growing up too fast, means knowing who you are before your body knows who you are. Memories of a happy childhood chipped away with age, and a heart broken by the one man who should’ve loved her before any other.

Her father.

And she feels it, the pure hatred for a man who couldn’t openly love his child. The man who makes her question whether or not he even has any love to show for all the years he’s ever walked this earth and all the years she’s been his daughter. The man who never understood the significance of cherishing the time spent with his daughter, making her feel valued and loved, calling her beautiful because she looks just like her mother, holding her in the dead of night when she wakes up from a night terror, even just holding her for one moment. One. Moment. Because even showing her the slightest bit of appreciation, the slightest bit of love in that single second could protect her from a lifetime of damnation, for seeking that solicitude in the arms of men who could never live up to even half of the man her father could’ve been.

It was never her fault. But she couldn’t stop blaming herself for hating him as much as she did, because there was no excuse in the world that meant that it was okay for him to treat her that way, to hurt her repeatedly in ways most fathers would never, ever think of doing.

So, she often finds herself lying awake in bed at night wishing she could visit herself as a little girl. She would take her by the hand and pull her to the grass to make daisy chains, she’d count the gaps between her teeth and savour the way her laughter fills her ears, she’d try to swing just as high on the swing and sit opposite her at the picnic bench. But most importantly, she would warn her about what’s to come, prepare her for the heartache she’s going to go through in life. She’d ache to show that little version of herself a picture of her father and urge her to run from away from her future, as far as her little legs would take her, and then run a little more.

But something always stops her. And that something is that somewhere out there in her future, through all the pain and suffering, someone was waiting for her. Someone just as broken, but had all the love the earth could hold, to give just to her.

They had no idea they existed together, they were complete strangers to one another, crossing paths anonymously, in the most unexpected of ways until eventually, they were in the right place at exactly the right time. They were each other’s firsts. Not in any sense of first love, first kiss, first time. Not at all. But they were each other’s firsts to love the other unconditionally. To prove that they were never too much, to prove that they were not in fact a burden on one another. But that the love they had to give, the type of love that was so beautiful it consumed them, the love that showed that whatever their souls were embodied with, theirs were intertwined. That love was more than enough. They were meant to be. Maybe not forever, but they needed to experience this love, that usually only comes once in a lifetime – there to show you the true beauty of living life, to motivate you to find your soul within yourself and stand up to you when you need it. It’s a challenging type of love, there’s the darkest of days, the wind and the rain and the thunder. But these two souls are also connected like the sun and the moon, always in the midst of different phases but brought together by that unknown gravitational pull. There will never be any connection stronger. – C.B

“Isabella Munro, there will never be anyone else that I’ll ever be able to love as much as I love you, simply because I’ll never know how to. You are the first and last person I will wholeheartedly love for the rest of my life, and this love, I will hold onto until my hands are bleeding and I have nothing left to give. I know deep down that you’re the one I will continue to fall for everyday until I take my last breath and not because I want you, or need you, but because you have given a part of yourself to me that I never imagined I’d have. You’ve given me a love so unconditional I’m not sure I’m even worthy of it. But trust me when I say that I am completely in love with every inch of you, every part of your soul that you’ve given to me, and I will always be here I promise you that. Come back to me sweetheart. Please” The voicemail echoed through Isabella’s mind, and she felt a single hot tear rolling down her cheek, burning a path a long her pale face.

“Bradley, I’m so sorry. I love you, so much”. She panted, before her eyes closed and all she could hear was the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First part of the series is up!

All likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

Drop me a message if you wish to be added to my taglist.

Taglist:

@roosterforme

@roosterscockpit

@aistash

@ishipdabands

@minichrismd

[ffxivtranslations]

The Final Showdown with Zenos - Translation

Jpn -> Eng translation of Zenos and the WoL's final conversation before their deciding battle, plus the voiced lines from the actual battle stage.

ゼノス・ヴェトル・ガルヴァス : ……戻るのか。お前を、英雄たらしめる世界に。ならば、ここで聞け……ただのお前としてな。……あのアラミゴでの決戦で、俺は何に歓喜したのかと、考えていた。

お前が比類なき強敵であったこと。最後の一息すら絞り出すような戦いができたこと。すなわち……己が命を、燃やすことだ。それが俺の歓びであり、同時に、俺からお前に渡し得る唯一の愉しみだろう。

ゆえにこそ、俺は今一度、お前に再戦を申し入れる。応じぬのであれば、そのまま仲間のもとへ帰るがいい。なにせ人は命を尊ぶ。それを危険にさらすこと、無暗に費やすことは、望んでするなというのが道理らしい。

あるいは英雄たるお前も、人命を護らんという一心で、こんな果てへと至ったのやもしれぬ。だが、ここに……外からお前を定めるものは、何もない。思い出せ……！武器を手にし、技を会得したときの高揚を。

新たな脅威、いまだ踏破せぬ頂を目にしたときの欲を！命を費やさねば得られぬ歓びがあったはずだ。なあ……「冒険者」よ。

Zenos: … … Are you returning? To the world that makes you it’s hero? If so, please listen to me here…. as simply “you”, not a “hero”. I thought about what it was that so delighted me about our showdown in Ala Mhigo.

About how you were my peerless rival. About how we were able to have a battle that could have squeezed my last breath from me. In other words… burning one’s own life. That is my joy, and at the same time, the only enjoyment I can give to you, right?

Therefore, once more I propose a rematch to you. If you wish, you may ignore it and return to your comrades. After all, people value their lives. Exposing yourself to danger, recklessly throwing your life away- apparently, it’s not logical to wish for those things.

Hero- you who believe with your whole heart that life should be protected- perhaps you will be led to such an end. However, in this place, there is no-one to force it upon you. Try to remember! The elation you felt when taking a weapon into your hand and learning new skills.

The desire you felt when you found a new threat, or reached a summit you had never traversed! Surely there was joy that could only be felt by expending your very life. Isn’t that right, “adventurer”?

……まったくそのとおりだ

どうあれお前を、あの星には帰さない

いい加減、お前はうんざりだ

では、勝負といくか。俺とお前の命で……天つ星、そのすべてを焦がそうぞ！

あくまで英雄であることを貫くか。それでも構わね。。。。。。お前が受けて立つというならば、戦いの中で知らしめよう。命を懸ける歓び、その熱を！

……ハ。やっと本気で俺を殺すつもりになったか。ならば、この最果てに俺の骸を打ち捨てるがいい。こちらもお前を仕留める気でいく。命のすべてを削ぎ切って、最期の愉しみに耽ようぞ！

WoL’s options:

… …well, you got me there.

No matter what, I’m not letting you go back to our planet.

Let’s get this over with, I’m already sick of you.

Zenos’s replies:

Well then, let’s fight. With my life and your life… let us burn everything in the heavens!

So, you are determined to play the hero to the bitter end? It matters not to me…… as long as you take up the gauntlet, I will force you to understand through our battle. The joy of wagering one’s life- the passion I feel!!!

…. ha. So, you’ve finally decided to get serious about killing me huh? If so, you are welcome to abandon my remains in this distant place. Of course, I will also be intent on ending you here. Let us indulge in the final pleasure of chipping away at our lives!

Zenos: You mean to return. To the world where you are hailed as a hero. Hear me then not as a hero but as simply you. As I learned in Ala Mhigo you are a formidable foe. Stronger than any I have faced. Against you, I need bring my all to bear. I need burn through the candle of my life. This is the sole pleasure I know, and it is the sole pleasure I have to share. And so I come before you. To issue challenge and offer singular bliss. If you wish to walk away, I will not stop you. You value life. You do not burn your save for reasons you deem worthy. Reasons such as those which brought you here. The salvation of a world and its people. The motives of a hero true. But there is more to you than that. You know this to be true. As surely as you know the thrill of pushing your body and soul to their limits. Of confronting ever-mightier foes, dancing ever closer to the precipice, wondering if this will be the one to finally, finally fill the void. Such pleasures you seek for their own sake, and no other reason. Is this not so… adventurer?

WoL’s options:

That, I can't deny.

Think what you will. But I’m not letting you leave this place.

I’ve have enough of you. It ends here.

Zenos’s replies:

Ha! Acceptance. At long last. The conflagration of our clash will scorch even the stars!

So you would still play the hero. No matter. In acceptance you betray your deception. You know full well what we are, and what we seek. To shine incandescent in death’s shadow!

Ha! Finally mustered the desire to kill me, have you? Go on, then. Try and strike me down in this forsaken place. I shall return the favor. Aye, let us indulge in the only worthwhile pursuit, and burn our lies to their ends!

Japanese battle lines:

俺はただ、勝つために戦おう……！

I am simply fighting to win!

ハ……いきなりは仕留められぬか！

Ha, you won’t be able to take me down suddenly!

凌いでみせろよ。

Try to endure this.

この一戦のため磨いた技……すべて解放する！

All the skills I have honed for the sake of this one battle, I will unleash them all now!

見切れるか？

Can you see through my attacks?

刈り取る！

I reap!

熱い……そうだ……これが戦いだ……！

It’s hot…indeed… this is battle!

お前もまだいけような？　俺は……

ここから、もっと、燃やそうぞ！

Can you keep going? I am… going to start burning even more now!

どうした、この程度でくたばるのか……？ デュナミスを燃焼させ、　　は再び立ち上がった！

What’s wrong, was that enough to make you croak???

(You burn Dynamis and stand up again!)

フフ、そうだ……！ 果てるにはまだ早かろう、友よ！

Heh heh, yes!!

It is far to soon to end this, friend!

無様だな……戦い前の威勢はどうした？

Pathetic… what happened to the power you showed me before this battle? まだだ……俺はまだ、生きている！: オオオオオォォッ！

I’m still… I’m still alive! OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! 血の一滴も余さず、この刹那に喰らいつこうぞッ！

Without wasting a drop of blood, I will devour you in this moment!

[therichantsim]

So for the last 8 weeks, I’ve been walking daily, grilling or baking my food, and eating a shitload of veggies. This weekend I had a craving that just wouldn’t go away. So I gave into it, but I only made enough for two servings, today and tomorrow’s dinner. That way I won’t go back for seconds. I made spicy vinegar chicken, savory buttery succotash, and rice. I also made a strawberry lemonade (from scratch). Y’all, I love to cook it’s how I love on my people. I literally do a happy dance when I eat and if you are happily eating my food it warms my heart. If you visit and you’re hungry I will feed you and send you off with a to-go plate. I love hospitality and being hospitable. You get a well-made bed with good bedding, tucked tight and right. You get breakfast, all of the things.

Therapy and addiction mention below the cut.

When I say loving and appreciating good food and good ingredients all while being addicted to it ain’t easy! Ya girl wakes up thinking about dinner and goes to sleep thinking about breakfast. My therapist says food has replaced work (at the salon) which gave me a sense of purpose. Being behind the chair was workplace ministry for lack of a better word. My kids are grown and doing their own thing and I’ve also suffered some loss. My doctor was stunned by the amount of weight I put on within the last three years. I've even felt a drastic decline in my health within the last three years. My heart cusses me own on the regular. Saying "bitch I am not supposed to be working this damn hard" So I've been trying to do better and within a week I felt the difference and now I'm going on week 8. I'm supposed to be finding another outlet to feed my soul instead of constantly reaching for food. Humans are animals and like other animals, we should only eat when our body needs nourishment but food taste so damn good. It also releases endorphins and shit.

So my new methodology has been to only eat what you've cooked from scratch. If I want fries then I must peel and cut up potatoes and cook them. If I want chips I must do the same. If I want cookies they have to be from scratch. Needless to say that more often than not this method makes me reach for a piece of fruit or a small healthy snack instead. Because I can be bothered.

Still looking for that outlet that fills the void though. I volunteer at my local shelter a few times a month. My shade tree mechanic passed away recently and my car which lasted me for the last 20 years just died as well. Oh and did I mention it's been 9 years since my last kiss or anything else for that matter.

Saying all this to say ya girl needs to get a life or a new purpose in life because as much as I love this game it ain't it and it ain't real life. Food can no longer be my boyfriend. It can delicious and nourishing but boyfriend it can not be.

If you have read this far. Thank you and I love you. Bye xoxo Antwanyce

[ginnsbaker]

That was Scenes from a Marriage (2021) level of angst, J. Can’t count the number of gasps I let out!

I have a lot of thoughts, i hope you don’t mind 😭

> Modern Idiots was a nice touch. 10/10 no notes. TS is MADE for fics.

> I absolutely love that Sara has become a recurring character! You write her so well, her confidence and appeal can be felt so vividly. It’s amazing how you were able to create an OC that is such a scene stealer (still picturing her as Rebecca btw)

> Chrysanthemums!!! I love how it’s like almost like an easter egg by now

> “Always just shy of what they hoped” “It’s more of an outline than a shape”

How beautifully put. being the eldest daughter in an asian household i have experienced that firsthand. You’ve captured that feeling so profoundly

> “I want to stop assuming things and thinking my perspective is the whole reality. We all do it, don’t we? Set traps for ourselves with our own expectations and assumptions.”

What a great thing to read at the end of a long, and taxing day.

> The confrontation scene was SUPERB. You have written an incredibly accurate scene of how painful and terrifying it is to stand across a person you love and to see this mask of coldness and indifference.

The courage it takes to stand there and try to chip at the walls, and to love a person who can switch off their emotions when it’s getting difficult.

Kudos to Leigh for trying, when it was easier to dismiss everything. And kudos to the reader for standing our ground.

“A lesser woman would have lost hope”

P.S.

I can’t say I understand nor condone Matt’s cheating. But i want to share how the conversation scene with Jules felt to me.

That for a brief moment there was hope, that despite the family’s feeling of grief and betrayal, and possibly conflicting feelings about us (given that we were a part of the disloyalty) there was a fleeting moment that we filled in the void of kindness that Matt left. That maybe, the memory of Matt isn’t all tarnished and somehow redeemed if his mistake brought another version of him, another sympathetic soul to their lives.

Thank you, J! This is an extraordinary work, and this chapter is just magnificent

Hi Oceane!!! So nice to hear from you :3

First of all, this is the first time I've heard of Scenes from a Marriage (2021), and I'm shocked that I don't know this movie existed because it has Jessica Chastain in it?? I need to see this asap!

re: modern idiots - I couldn't help myself because 40% of my inspiration always comes from TS' music. I physically cannot hold back from writing them into the fic lol

re: Sara - though nothing will ever be between y/n and Sara, i've grown to love her myself. But I wanted to portray an atypical relationship development between people who meet through dating apps. and of course, i wanted her there to remind Leigh that if she ever lets y/n go, y/n won't be left empty-handed ;)

re: mums - yes, the same flowers from ILGOSS :)

re: eldest daughter??? in an asian household??? are you like a mirror image of my life? lol. though i'm an only child. but i understand the pressure put on eldest asian daughters.

re: confrontation scene - i don't think i'd be able to write that if i haven't experienced that myself, tbh. it's painful and a risk, but someone needs to be brave or else it will fall apart.

re: final words on matt - I agree. I don't think one mistake makes a person. Matt was still kind, he did his best to love Leigh and in the end, it's himself he couldn't live with, and that was the tragedy.

Thank YOU for your wonderful introspection on the chapter. It's such an insightful read. I know I'll go back to your asks every now and then, and especially when I'm experiencing writer's block.

[jenamonoxide]

My brother's best friend.

The trust was a different level. Not a second thought crossed my mind when letting him in. He was older, wiser, handsome, everything that would never truly end up with someone like me. He towered over me and made me feel worthy. I couldn't wrap my head around why this 34 year old man, who has his life together and stable, would want anything to do with 27 year old me. I'm not done with college. I'm as financially independent as possible with a daughter who keeps me on my toes and constantly on edge. He convinced me that he saw me; behind all of the defenses and rough edges. I gave him all of me...mistake #1.

This was a secret love affair. No one knew. It was filled with excitement, giggles and secret meet ups. Like the movies. But that's all it would be. A movie. A fantasy. But, no happy ending. As soon as I allowed myself to trust him and jump all in...he stepped back and watched me fall. My self-esteem chipped away more and more each day. I started to drown, but I couldn't ask for help or else I'd blow our cover. The one person who should've saved me wouldn't even throw out a life preserver to help me stay afloat. Did he really see who I was? Or did he just see the potential I had to become weak for him? I fell in love with him anyway...mistake #2.

6 months. It took 6 months for my self esteem to completely deteriorate. I spent days wondering what I was doing wrong. I wasn't enough. He drained me. My depression came back. My anxiety had me biting my nails down to the quick. I swallowed my pride. I cried myself to sleep; and not just a few tears. It was the gut wrenching cries that knock the breath out of you because you just want the pain to stop. He built a trauma bond by taking jabs at me that left stings in my self esteem, only for him to pacify me and write it off as a joke. He held my head underwater and gaslit me anytime I finally spoke up from my lungs burning. I never understood his jokes, nor did I ever feel the need to calm down. My feelings were valid. I never laughed. I never calmed down, especially internally. I just kept loving him, and I continued to be a pathological people pleaser. I still continued to accept less than what I deserved...mistake #3.

Now that the rug has been pulled out from under me, the truth did not set me free. I was thrown under the bus and the blame was put on me. It took two to fuck. It took his words and broken promises to make me swoon and fall in love with him. Lastly, It took his actions to break me completely. Everyone wants to move along and forget it happened, but how am I supposed to do that when I am the one who fell in love? There's no moving on in the matter of days. I still have to pick myself up and put the pieces back together. Why isn't he held accountable for how reckless he was with my soul and heart? They were dark grey when he came in, and now they're a black bottomless pit.

Never again.

I will never allow someone to see all the cracks and crevices that define me. They never appreciate who I am as a person. They see my defenses and strength as a challenge. A game. I'm seen as nothing but an ego boost and a temporary use to fill a void. No more. I am done. I'll never be soft again. There is no fight left in me in all aspects. I will allow myself to die in battle before someone takes me away from myself ever again.

[abhainnwhump]

IMYM Chapter 5: Last Minute Preparations: Nightmare

<- Previous Chapter || Masterlist || Next Chapter ->

Nightmare adjusted his shirt collar in the master bathroom's mirror. He wore a gray dress shirt with bishop sleeves, a black suit jacket on his shoulders, and a black cravat. He usually only dressed up this much for business meetings or the few times he’s been to masquerade balls. A date couldn’t have been that different.

Yes, he was five hundred and seven years old and had never been on a date. He’s never had a reason to. Romance was never a focus in his life, not now and likely not ever. He was more focused on taking over the multiverse and spreading negativity. Killer was relentless with the jokes when he found out. Nightmare was inches away from wrapping him in his tendrils and throwing him out the window.

As he was about to grab his pocket watch, he touched a woven bookmark. It was made of dark black fabric with a white X near the top. The string’s knot and two beads kept it from falling, one teal and one purple. A birthday gift from Cross. Along with his childhood crown, Nightmare didn’t know why he kept the damn thing. Nostagila most likely, even if he didn't want to admit it.

If there was one person he hated worse than Dream, it was Cross. He betrayed him not once, but twice. The first was treason, and the second was falling for the enemy. In a way, he did them both on the same day, three years ago.

================================================

Nightmare took the guard in after he murdered his entire AU. He only found out due to Cross venting to him about it. It was an accident, he didn't mean to kill everyone he loved, people betrayed him over and over. He became stuck in the Anti-void, helpless and afraid of losing himself further. He was a fascinating soul, filled with regret and hatred. Cross needed to find a new purpose and Nightmare fancied a new team member. So he offered him a deal. If Cross joined his team, Nightmare would allow him meaning and help with his trauma.

And he was a good member. Resourceful, charismatic, a hard worker, and close friends with the rest of the team. Nightmare enjoyed having him as a subordinate.

But one day, without clear reason, he couldn’t take the killing anymore. He told Nightmare he wanted to quit. He told him he was sorry and grateful for everything he’s done, but he wanted to leave. Nightmare said no. A deal was a deal. They argued for an hour before Cross backed down. He didn’t say anything for a while after that. Less shine in his eye lights, but otherwise he worked as usual. He did become concerned for his mental health though. Was he too harsh? Cross had a habit of hiding both his physical and mental injuries. Especially if someone asked him if he was okay.

The next time they went on a mission, Cross ran away with nothing but an apology note—a weak one at that.

Nightmare canceled the mission and sent the entire team to find the traitor. He couldn't have gone far. They were reluctant but did as their boss asked. As he searched through the minor AU. He caught a strange conversation in the wind.

“Please, I want to help you! I know you’re not evil, and I’m not leaving you to die with a broken leg!”

“Stay away from me! And whatever you’re doing to make me happy, stop it! Happiness is the last thing I want to feel right now.”

“I can’t! It’s my aura! I can’t control it! You feel happy because you’re close to me! I'll leave you alone, but please let me heal your leg.”

The dark king followed the sound until he reached a clearing. Dream kneeled in front of a scuffling Cross, hand hovering with gold magic over his wound. Dream appeared to glow in the dark forest. It was back when he wore teal instead of yellow and a full cape instead of ripped shreds. Cross wore his over-complicated outfit too. A white jacket over a turtleneck and an X-sash. Cross’s right leg was a disaster of chipped bone, purple blood, and torn fabric.

Cross waited until Dream finished to adjust his leg. He seemed shocked over how well it worked. "Thanks, now leave me alone."

Dream’s sighed. “I- okay. Even if you don’t trust me, I want you to have this.”

The guardian reached to his belt and pulled out a gray orb, no larger than a golf ball. It had a small gold star in the center.

Cross scoffed and took the ball. “What is this? Some kind of miniature bomb? Nice try, but it won’t work on me.” He threw it into the forest. Dream gasped and reached out for it, but it was too late.

The orb broke into pieces and blasted a wave of wind and positivity. Nightmare cringed in pain and stifled a scream. It felt like he was burning inside out. The two other skeletons shielded their eye lights from the bright light.

When Nightmare lowered his hand, his eye socket widened. From the orb spouted beams of gold light and a hundred stars. Each star held a positive memory of Cross’s. Nightmare had never seen nor met any of them, but he could tell they were the other monsters from his world. Xtale Papyrus, Undyne, Mettaton, Muffet, he had a sickly sweet love and care for his friends and brother. Yet despite the happiness, sorrow and guilt tainted the memories.

Dream took one of the stars and held it in his hands. He waved his hand over it and smiled, his eye lights turning into stars. “I knew it! You have so many hopes and dreams and happy memories. You loved your friends. You used to be so positive, what ha- Cross?”

Cross failed to hold back his tears. His smile shook as much as his breathing; he struggled to keep quiet to stay strong. He wiped his tears away with one of his dirty sleeves. One of the stars floated by his face and he swatted it away. Then a second, and then a third. He crossed his arms and scowled. His aura was consumed in the guilt and sorrow he repressed for years. "Get rid of them."

“I can't, they will only leave on their own. It takes time. All healing and good things take time.” Dream moved closer, now curious. “Is that the problem? You're scared of what they'll think of you, so you're running away from your past?"

"I'm not running away from it. I tried to save them. I . . . forget it." He closed himself off. "It was a stupid idea in the first place. I should've known I couldn't rip apart other worlds and still expect everything to be normal."

Cross didn’t elaborate and continued to retreat into himself. Dream rubbed the back of his head, opening his mouth and closing it again. He did the one thing he knew to do best. He held him in a protective hug, rubbing his skull and letting him cry on his shoulder. “Shh, it’s okay. You deserve to be happy. If you want . . . I could help you to be happy again. But only if you want me to!"

Nightmare couldn’t hear his response as Cross muttered it, but his aura gained a twinge of comfort. And that’s when the Lord of Negativity decided to make his presence known.

“Well, well, well, I hate to ruin your little bonding moment, but your positivity is sickening.” Nightmare shot a tendril at Dream and tied him up. His brother gasped and struggled. The negativity was too much for him. He lay limp in his tendrils, breathing ragged.

Nightmare turned to Cross, smiling like a proud father. “Cross, you realize that by distracting my brother, you have earned yourself back in my favor. And because of that, I will let you do the honor of killing him.” He lowered Dream and held him spread-eagle style. “Go on, cut into his chest, and take out his soul.”

Cross looked hesitant. Nightmare decided he had to sweeten the deal. He raised his brother in the air behind him. Dream was running out of air. “You will become my first lieutenant and leader of the new army. You will have power you could only dream of.” He laughed at his unintentional pun. “I also won’t punish you for treason as I planned. Do you know how many monsters would take that deal? Many. You’re lucky you-”

A knife blade came down on the base of Dream’s tendril. Nightmare howled in agony. Losing a tendril was worse than a little positivity. He could regrow it within time, but his tendrils contained most of his magic. It would stay weakened until it regrows. But he still had three others.

Dream screamed as he fell. Cross teleported and caught him in midair. He shielded the smaller one with his body as they rolled on the ground. Purple covered his brother's face as he couldn't breathe. His skull lolled back on Cross's shoulder, blinking to refocus.

Nightmare’s eye twitched. “Are you betraying me for him?”

Cross didn’t answer.

Nightmare scowled. “Idiot, don't you see? Dream is messing with your head. He’s making you weak by tricking you into a false sense of empathy. And that’s why I must annihilate him, so no one can feel these emotions again. You still need me. I’m giving you a purpose. Would you rather be alone? Suffering in the guilt you caused yourself?"

Cross stood back up with a firm grip on his magic, claymore-sized knife. “You misunderstand me. I was created to protect people. And Dream . . . people like him are worth protecting. I made a mistake by working for you. I won’t make it again-”

Nightmare stabbed Cross through the chest and arms, yawning.

His tendrils splattered with purple blood as he slow-clapped. “That was beautifully . . . stupid, you should’ve considered being a poet. But I am very disappointed. You had so much potential, only to throw it away for the ‘greater good’. Oh well.” Nightmare thickened his tendrils to snap Cross’s bones. His clothing strained and began to tear. Cross screamed in pain. Snaps broke out. It would’ve gone faster if he had the fourth tendril, but this would do.

“Brother, stop!” Dream stood back up, bow in hand. “L-leave him alone! It’s me you want!”

Nightmare cackled. This was almost too perfect. “Let’s see, should I kill a traitor? Or kill my brother? Oh, decisions, decisions . . .”

He didn’t hear the Gaster Blaster behind him. Cross summoned it with the last of his magic strength. Nightmare barely had time to turn into a puddle, having to drop him in the process. Cross fell with a groan.

He turned to Dream and wiped some of the blood off his face. “Look, sunshine, just get out of here. Leave me, I’ll be fine. I can fight-”

“NO! You have a chance for a happy life! I’m giving you a second chance and there is nothing you can say or do about it!” Dream fixed his sun cape and steadied his breathing. He held up his bow.

Nightmare’s body distorted. He thinned his tendrils out into whips and fired them at Dream and Cross. Dream threw up a shield and defended them. The tendrils stabbed and bounced off the barrier, clanking like hail on a window.

Cross eyed the cracking and breakage. “I got a plan. We need to take cover behind that boulder and then-”

“Oh, Crossy!”

Killer shot a knife from the woods. Cross used his weak state and weight to tackle Dream to the ground. The knife tore off Cross’s already-ruined jacket sleeve.

Cross scowled and grumbled, “Oh, fuck me.”

“If you insist,” Killer taunted. He charged at the two. Dream summoned a wave of positivity and fired it at him. Nightmare’s right hand dashed and teleported, reappearing beside Dream. He slashed a long line down his skull. Dream winced, but focused on keeping Cross out of danger, even with his blood dripping into his eye socket.

“Come on, we need to get out of here,” Cross commanded. “I’ll lend you some happiness for your powers or whatever, but we can’t stay here!”

Dream gave a curt nod before twirling his staff into a portal. “Let’s heal you- um, do you prefer to go by Cross or San-”

“Cross. Never call me Sans.”

Dream tucked his staff into his belt holster. He struggled to carry Cross’s weight. Nightmare’s tendrils flew on their own and tore up Dream’s cape—his most treasured possession. The scraps of fabric fell at his feet.

Dream slowed down looked down, holding the ruined ends. “No! My-my cape!”

“Leave it! We don’t have time!” Cross grabbed the guardian’s arm, wincing at his own injuries. Dream snapped back to his senses. Still crying like a baby, he supported Cross and helped him through the portal. They both fell on the other side and sealed it.

Killer teleported to Nightmare’s side as he reformed properly. “Boss, should I go after them? Give me three hours and I will bring back their skulls.”

Nightmare watched the portal close. “A tempting offer, but no. We’re returning to the castle and reporting the news to the others. From there, I will decide what to do next. Cross is no longer a member of the VSS and that should be clear. He is a target that should suffer as much as the Star Sanses if not more."

“Gotcha.”

================================================

Nightmare banished Cross but didn’t send an immediate search mission. He expected the Star Sanses to take him as a new member. To his shock, Cross stayed neutral. But there was something else, something far worse than that. Error was the one who broke the news to him.

Cross and Dream fell in love.

Love, what a worthless feeling. Well, perhaps worthless wasn’t the right word. It could be exploited, used, and taken advantage of. Pathetic was better. Isn’t that where this idea came from? To make Ink fall in love with him so he could turn him into a living weapon?

These days, Nightmare took the sympathy he had for Cross and burned them until all there was only hate. If he surrendered there and then, Nightmare would have made his death painless. Now, he didn’t care. He wanted to see him severed and hanging.

Nightmare slammed his hands on the marble sink. His fingers clenched, but he managed to take a deep breath. As long as he didn’t think about Cross and/or Dream, he could keep his temper managed. Besides, he couldn’t intimidate Ink on the first date. What was the adage about a frog? If you drop a frog into a pot of boiling water, it will immediately jump out. Drop a frog into a pot of lukewarm water and raise the heat, it will stay until it dies.

It’s a failing metaphor because the frog jumps out no matter how hot the pot is. You would need to lobotomize it first. He snapped a pair of black silk gloves on.

Nightmare finished readying himself and left the bathroom. He had one more stop to make before he could go to the date.

He walked down his finely decorated hallways. Long purple rugs lined the stone floor. Every decoration had a place in his gothic black and purple theme. The left wall held tall windows with moon designs, shining the sunset through them. The right were old oil paintings. Nightmare had an appreciation for old art, especially those depicting misery and pain. The more suffering the better.

One might ask how he landed such exquisite decor. The answer was centuries worth of exchange and thievery. Nightmare never had a problem with stealing. His moral compass was as nonexistent as his skin.

Nightmare walked inside his office and pushed a stack of papers aside with a tendril. He lay Ink’s sash flat, removing each vial and laying them in a straight line. He touched each of the vials’ rainbow, heart-shaped tops. He could sense the emotions radiating from each color. Not as powerful as natural feelings, not even close. It was like holding artificial flavoring. It does the job, but it’s farce compared to the real thing.

Once he removed the yellow one, his smile distorted so it pointed by his eye sockets. The sturdy glass kept it from burning him, but he still felt happiness and positivity inside. Nightmare opened one of his windows and breathed in the cool night air. He looked down into the blue lake and smiled.

He threw the vial into the water below.

The vial flew, yellow against black until it crashed and sunk into the lake below. The darkness sucked it down. Ink wouldn’t be able to weaken him with happiness now. As long as he stayed here, he would be miserable. The pink paint's love would trick him into thinking he feels positive. Love wasn’t a positive or negative emotion, it was neutral as it could work both ways. Love could be selfless or selfish depending on the person. Most of the time, it was the latter.

He touched the breast pocket of his suit. He nestled the bottle of pink and red paint inside. It glowed softly. You couldn’t notice the light unless you were searching for it.

Nightmare ceased touching the vials when a lumbering sound outside caught his attention. He learned how to tell which member of the trio was who based on the sound of their footsteps. "Come in, Horror."

Horror opened the door and peered inside. His red eye was the only thing lighting up his face. Otherwise, he was backlit by the dark gold light of the hall.

Nightmare turned toward the oldest member of the Murder Time Trio. Horror was a few inches taller than he was and more muscular, but Nightmare didn’t mind.

“When Ink gets ’ere . . . can we torture him?”

Nightmare thought about it. “In time. I need to break him in first. Then you, Killer, and Dust can have a field day. I don’t care what you do to him, just keep him functional. Break a few fingers or use him as a test dummy for all I care,” he said. “Remember, he won’t be an equal to us. He’s far less, so don’t feel bad about making him hurt.”

Horror nodded. “So he’s . . . a torture toy with . . . a special excuse?”

“Mm, close enough. You’re in charge while I’m gone; I trust you the most. But if I come back to any pranks, destruction, or Ouija board incidents, you are all cleaning the dungeon. Including the blades and chains. We need to make a good impression on our new member, don't we?”

“Yes, boss.”

With a final nod, Nightmare stepped through the portal to Outertale. It was one of the AUs he was fond of, and the only one he liked that wasn’t negative-centric. The sky was forever dark and covered with stars. The residents were low energy and had little animosity towards anyone. Nightmare stayed in the shadows and out of sight as much as possible. As kind as Outertale was, he still had a reputation and a price on his head. Thank you, Dream.

Nightmare followed the roads until he made it to the restaurant. Tucked between two shops, it was fancier than either of them, looking like it belonged to a different AU. It was made with white pillars and had an old style, like the buildings in ancient mythology books he read as a child.

Nightmare pushed the doors open. The lively atmosphere almost immediately quieted down. It was like a blanket of uncertainty and fear. He couldn’t sense Ink’s artificial aura so that guaranteed he was late.

“Reservations for Nightmare Joku.” He set his hands on the counter, holding a confident cool smile. The worker seemed unnerved, but they gave him a polite smile in return. It turned strained once they looked into his glowing eye light.

“Joku . . . give me one sec.” They flipped through the massive book and scanned through a page. “Ah, found you.”

They set the book down and mumbled to themself. “Mother of the stars, why can’t I ever get the normal customers . . .” They stood up and walked, gesturing for Nightmare to follow. He did. He looked straight ahead but noticed nervous looks and whispers from the other monsters.

The attendant lead him to a spare room saved for events. Nightmare needed the privacy, not just for the view, though that was a bonus. The window showed the white Milky Way against a deep purple sky. He wanted to keep the affair between him and Ink, and them alone.

The attendant looked nervous, messing with their clipboard. “Um . . . would you like any drinks to begin with?”

Nightmare nodded. “I’ll have a pinot noir and my date will have a rosé champagne. He should be here within the next . . . five to ten minutes, roughly. If you see him, please tell him I’m waiting. Oh, and one last request, please. Could you leave me and him alone for, let’s say, twenty minutes? No, make it fifteen. That should be enough time.”

They rubbed their clipboard more, tapping the chained pen against it. The outside suddenly looked very interesting to them. “Apologies, sir. It’s policy to not leave customers alone for too long. It's considered rude.".

Nightmare nonchalantly passed the waiter one hundred gold pieces from his pocket. The waiter stared with eyes as wide as saucers. They also seemed desperate to get out of there. “Well . . . I suppose an exception can be made.”

As soon as he slipped out, Nightmare shook his head. Mortals could be convinced with the simplest bribe. They came back with the glasses of wine and water not long after. Once he left, he activated his plan.

The dark king removed the bottle of love potion from his pocket and poured half of the pink liquid into the wine. He decided it would be safe if he saved some in case the effects failed to work. He wasn’t too concerned though. The main reason he chose Ink as his target was how easily he could be manipulated. Physically, Ink was the strongest member of the Star Sanses. Mentally, he’s the weakest. If only he was as intelligent as he was arrogant.

Nightmare drank his red wine. He was incapable of getting drunk, likely due to his body lacking a solid form. The power from his black apple soul was the only thing keeping it together. Along with the fact he was using a six-year-old skeleton as a, well, skeleton.

The stars entranced and distracted him. He focused his attention on what appeared to be a flaming asteroid. Then he caught a bitter aura. Nightmare couldn’t read minds, but if he could, he could imagine the host thinking vulgar language.

The fire monster at the reception desk peeked in through the curtains. “Your Highness? Your date is here.”

[alihightowers]

Disclaimer: I've only seen the show and have just started the book, so please don't come for me if this reads ooc. This was just a fun (angst-ish) idea that came to me and I felt like writing it out, so yeah. :)

~

God, Rest My Soul

How many times can one be torn apart before they cease to exist altogether? 

Alicent was 15 when she first started to feel it.  

Loss.  

Honest and brutal, it would linger by her side as a shadow, a starving parasite begging to be fed. 

It began with the theft of her girlhood, stripped and stolen from beneath her before she could find a stable grounding.  

And it was harsh, getting thrown off balance so abruptly. She attempted to reach out for something to hold on to, anything to save her from falling.  

All she could catch was air. 

Alicent had never belonged to herself. She was always someone else’s. 

A pawn. A wife. A mother. 

Just a pretty mosaic of fragmented glass, soldered together and molded to be what the people around her desired her to be. 

Forever sentenced to follow the strict line between duty and sacrifice, and driven by a strong sense of faith, she was impressed upon performing only what was expected of her. And she was taught to do so without resistance. 

Chipped away piece by piece, she was always one step away from being emptied completely, existing as no more than the shell of a girl who once made secret wishes on blue skies and worn book pages, on cake and the Narrow Sea’s great wonders. 

She could only cling to her fragile innocence for so long before her fingers went numb and her will began to crumble into dust. 

When the war came to its gruesome end, that emptiness finally claimed her. It took time to peel away at her insides, shredding the remnants of her heart to ribbons until there was nothing left but a hollow void.  

Bound to the burden of her losses, Alicent never got the chance to know what it felt like to be whole. 

xxx 

Alicent wakes as she does most nights, drenched in sweat with a strangled cry in her throat. Her long, auburn tresses stick to the back of her neck, her nightgown tangled around her legs. The sheets fit tight around her waist, binding her in cotton chains. She can’t move. 

Then the nightmare spills into reality. They always spill with a taunting, slow drip. 

Her mind plays cruel tricks on her in the dark. The walls stretch and yawn open, expanding beyond the ceiling. She shrinks as they rise and wonders if this will be the time such nothingness will swallow her whole.  

Sometimes she wishes it would. 

Alicent’s hands curl into fists around her pillows and she shudders when she hears it. Dragons. The roar comes with the thunder of a thousand storms, growing louder and louder until it booms right outside her open windows, close enough to shake her bed. A wing scrapes like steel blades against the front facing wall of her chamber and the room fills with the sinister orange glow of dragon fire.  

And as the beast passes, she begins to hear the screams.  

Muffled at first and then rising to an unbearable, piercing cacophony of guttural agony. The smallfolk, civilians who asked for none of it, but suffered from it all the same, trampling over each other in the narrow streets in a futile attempt to seek shelter.  

A true queen always counts the cost to her people. 

And she can do nothing but sit at the top of it all, her throne a burning pyre of broken promises and blood-soaked bone.  

A wave of nausea ripples through her when she finally opens her eyes to search the darkness in a panic, lip trembling and cheeks already flushed with tears.  

Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me. 

She repeats the words under her breath until the terror finally relents and her pulse stops hammering in her ears. 

A habit never cured, Alicent raises her thumb to her mouth to pick the already raw skin between her teeth. Scar tissue has grown over the wounds around her cuticles over the years, but she somehow always finds a way to break through. Maybe it’s a weakness, or maybe a twisted determination. Either way, It’s the only thing that calms her. If she bleeds, she’s less heavy. 

She only stops once the taste of copper melts onto her tongue.  

Alicent swallows, wiping her fingers on the white sheet. The moment she manages to sit up, a cough rattles in her chest almost hard enough to double her over. 

With a desperate gasp for air, she presses the heels of her hands over her eyelids to ease the sudden dizziness, forcing her chest to rise and fall with deep, uneven breaths. 

 The air shifts around her then, a gentle disturbance that makes her pause.  

“Mother.” The whisper is so faint in her ear she almost misses it, but it’s the cadence of the voice that catches her. It’s one she hasn’t heard in years but knows so deeply to the very core of her being. 

A weight settles on her right shoulder and a small part of her chest stops aching. Phantom fingers gently press into her skin, and she so desperately wants to reach up and touch him. To pull herself up and hug him, hold him to her just as she had the moment after he was born.  

“My darling boy.” She speaks, voice thick with sleep and tight with emotion. 

Fingertips press more firmly into her shoulder when she tries to move. She stills with a sigh, her own hand twitching with the need to reach out. 

“I wish to see you.” 

“Not yet.” 

Her brow furrows, confused. It makes no sense. 

A question lingers on Alicent’s lips, but before she can ask it, her son leans closer and brushes a soft kiss to her temple. The way the corner of his mouth lifts at the edge with a small smile fills her eyes with fresh tears that stick to her eyelashes. 

“Your Grace?” 

Alicent startles at the sound of her septa, body jolting in response to the new voice. 

Ignoring the woman, she raises her hand to her cold shoulder and turns to the side. Her head spins, her eyes blur. The space beside her bed is empty, but through the dizzy spell, she watches the facets of a sapphire sparkle in the blackened sky until it blends in with the full moon. 

The familiar, dull ache pierces her womb then, needling deeper until it joins the three other wounds carved there. 

Do not mourn me, mother. 

“Your Grace.” Her septa tries again, her concern for Alicent evident. Her tone never changes; she’s always concerned. 

Alicent no longer cares much, nor has the energy to argue her detest for pity, for being made to feel weak. The only thing that matters, the only thing she cares for, the only thing she wants, are her children. 

They are her reason and her salvation. Her greatest triumphs and her biggest failures. 

She loves them and they haunt her. 

“Hmm?” She finally manages to answer, watching as the woman approaches her to sit on the edge of the bed. 

“The guards heard you scream, are you alright?” 

Alicent nods, but her bottom lip starts trembling again and her face crumples, giving way to her unrelenting sorrow. 

“Oh, my dear.” Her septa says, taking care in pushing her thick hair back and away from her shoulders before bringing weathered fingers up to gingerly wipe beneath Alicent’s eyes.  

The gentle touch stings. Her tender skin is chapped from the salt of her tears, permanent rivers having been burned across the apples of her cheeks over time. 

“I’m so tired.” She confesses with a whimper, dropping her cheek to rest against the woman’s palm. 

“Then you must rest, your grace.” 

She feels the back of her septa’s soft, wrinkled hand touch her forehead. 

“But all I ever do is rest...” 

The heavy sigh she releases brings forth another series of coughs violent enough to ricochet off her spine. 

“You’re burning, let me fetch you something to ease the fever.” 

Her septa cradles one of Alicent’s hands between both of hers and squeezes them softly with a nod.  

Before she gets to the door, Alicent looks to her, eyes wide and rounded with hope. 

“Do you think they are safe?” 

My sons. My daughter. 

“Let us pray for it with the rise of the sun.” 

Every day she asks the same question, and every day they pray together, but never for herself. Instead, she speaks out for her children, recites their names like sacred hymns that only she can understand. 

A mother should never outlive her children. 

xxx 

The hours pass by slowly, and Alicent finds her exhaustion growing alongside them as the fever worsens. 

She can only stand up long enough to allow her bed to be remade with clean linens. Her pillows are fluffed, an extra quilt is lying over the comforter. Her maid combs through her mussed hair, untangling the curls until they fall in uniform down her back. The girl washes the sweat from her clammy skin and dresses her in a fresh nightgown.  

With the last of her strength siphoned from the simple task, it’s the last time she rises from her bed. 

The sky is overcast in the afternoon. Grey and murky, she briefly wonders if it will finally rain, if the sky will collect her tears and cry them for her after she’s gone. 

In the silence once she is left alone to rest, she can hear the distinct slosh of waves crashing against stone if she listens hard enough. The constant and methodic turbulence lulls her in and out of sleep, hushes her when she struggles between bouts of lucidity. 

And then there’s the distinct smell of damp earth, maple leaves, and lemon. 

The subtle notes filter through her senses, easing her to a soft wakefulness. Her sight focuses on the cloth on her bedside table in the dim light when she blinks her eyes open. Stretched taught over an embroidery hoop, Alicent studies the half-finished image of a spider she tried to weave from a fading memory. She remembers seeing it from time to time, delicate and intricately stitched by Helaena. There were other insects too. Beetles and dragonflies and moths. But her daughter always seemed to favor the arachnids most. 

The body of her own rendition is uneven. Seven out of eight legs are disproportioned, protruding out at odd angles. A needle still sticks upright in the middle of the head where she gave up, the single black thread unraveled to the floor, spool likely lost under her bed having been forgotten some time ago.  

My dearest love. 

“I never could get it right.” She mumbles to the empty room, reaching out to trace one of the skewed legs. 

The quiet lingers until an answer echoes off the walls. 

“But you did try your best.” 

The soft melody carried on Helaena’s words fills Alicent's chest with warmth. Her lips crack with a smile, the muscles weakened from lack of use. The corners of her mouth ache until she can no longer keep them upturned.  

“Did I?” Her voice breaks her question in half. She should have tried harder.  

A reply never comes, and a spark of panic unfurls within her veins. 

“Why can I not see you?” 

Alicent waits in the deafening silence, begging for something to let her know she’s not alone. 

“To see you must close both eyes.” Helaena whispers, and then as quickly as she came, she’s gone. 

xxx

Alicent begins shivering after that. Goosebumps cover her skin and she’s cold, but her body runs too hot in protest. She pushes her blankets down to her knees one moment, only to pull them back up around her neck the next. In a viscous cycle, she’s agitated with restlessness, but she barely has the energy to move.  

Well into the night, her breath shortens, lungs unable to expand the way they used to just hours prior.  

Her eyes roll unseeing up to the canopy over her bed, following the patterns in the fabric to try and focus on anything other than the ache that has since spread throughout each of her limbs. 

Her septa reads passages from the bible to her, the old, warped pages crinkling from years of use. Alicent knows the words by heart, has recited them more times than she can count, but she lets them soothe her instead of joining in. It’s enough to still her mind and focus on her own silent prayer. 

Alicent can feel herself slipping. Her eyes are heavy, she just wants to sleep, but she’s waiting. 

She’s been waiting ever since the sickness took her, since she knew death would come swiftly. 

When she finally feels a warm hand cover her own, she turns hers over quickly to grasp at the wrist, clinging. 

It’s the hand she knows best by heart. Much larger than hers now that he’s a man grown, Alicent digs her fingertips into the back of it, mad with a hope that if she squeezes hard enough, she could somehow shrink it back into the soft, chubby hand still shielded from the world. One she had held so carefully while she helped him take his first steps. 

Maybe if they had all been smaller, she could have protected them better. 

Glossy-eyed, Alicent directs her attention away from the canopy to the face of her son. 

“Aegon.” She sighs, and it’s instant, the way the tension drains from her frail body. Tears leak freely from the corners of her eyes and into her ears. 

Neither smile, they simply stare at each other, mirrored as they’ve always been. Same eyes, same nose, same mouth. Her first and her last.  

“Do you love me?” 

You imbecile.  

His voice is raw with emotion. Alicent swallows against the dryness of her throat, following the peaks and valleys of his scarred, burnt skin with her fingers. 

“You were one thing I never wanted,” she begins and reaches up with her free hand to sweep the fallen hair from his eyes, “and yet when I looked into your eyes for the first time, I found that I wanted for nothing else, because it was then that I knew what love felt like.” 

Alicent watches as he hangs his head for a breath with something akin to resolve, then leans forward to place a feather-light kiss on her forehead. 

“I free you from your sins.” 

I forgive you. 

Aegon’s voice is a ghost just behind her septa’s as the woman blesses her. There is nothing left to fight against.  

Her eyes flutter closed; peace replaces her pain.  

The sweet voices of babes call to her from the other side of the door to her chamber. 

It’s the only thing she hears when she takes her last breath. 

xxx

Alicent is 45 when she no longer feels it. 

Loss. 

Weightless and free, she finds there is nothing chasing after her, no beast to feed. 

It ends with the release of her chains, stripped and reclaimed, but this time she is balanced, and the ground beneath her is solid. 

Somewhere, in some wrinkle finely carved between space and time, Alicent is waking without the nightmares and stepping into a room filled with the warmth of an afternoon sun. The gentle breeze of summer sweeps through sheer curtains, carrying the faint perfume of the sea on its coattails.  

And her babies are there. Her greatest loves. The very center of her soul borne from her body sat before her eyes, unharmed and perfect. Their silver hair catches in the light like wildfire, and the twinkle of innocent laughter brings her to her knees. 

I want to see my sons again, and Helaena, my sweet girl. 

They reach out for her, and her arms fall open.  

She catches them, and she holds on.  

And as they settle into her embrace, she knows exactly what it feels like to be whole. 

Maybe it’s Heaven, or something far greater than what the New Gods could have predicted. 

But perhaps it’s just a simple gift, a wish of a mother’s heart.  

[blueberryjam1201]

Unexpected

Chapter 7

Genre: Drama, Romance

"The part of my personality I hate the most is ...

I can't be apathetic,

I can't do things halfway...

that comes also to the love.

I wasn't aware of it until I met her, YiSeul.

I was naive to truly believe this would last forever.

I gave her my everything... ah...how can I get out from this void?"

The thunder fell silent as the morning sun has risen. The swang in the wind grass hummed the melody. A lullaby for a still sleeping souls. The doors weren't locked. In the kitchen and sitting room, only silence breathed, distracting attention from the sadness which was still lying on the floor together with scattered chips, food and a broken bottle...

Whiskey bottle...

His legs were hanging helplessly from the couch, and his arms were covering his face. That's where Kyungsoo fell asleep...there was no point in going upstairs. The bedding in the bedroom was reminding of her too much... Every corner in this house did.The void in his head created in the last few hours was keeping him sane, and at the same time cutting off the reality supply.

He moved one arm off his face, staying still in the same position. Dark circles under his wide-open eyes were telling about every second of the heartbreaking story he experienced. Red and swollen eyes were shouting about the litres of tears shedded.

...the scattered chips on the floor. Hopefully, he hadn't damaged the TV... Wet stain after throwing the glass with orange juice...it's probably sticky...needs to be washed properly... white food containers after take away were lying near the couch on the left side...oh...the pieces of food were still inside. Now they are covering part of the white carpet...it needs to be washed too...

He rose from the couch and moved slowly to the kitchen. The feeling of hangover was painted on his face, even though he wasn't drinking much. That was more of the damage made by overwhelming emotions. The silence wasn't only outside. The void created in his head was blocking any sounds from outside. There was no recollection or planning for the upcoming few minutes. Just silence. No existing thoughts.

His weak hands opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water just at the bottom. Then, after opening it and taking a sip he moved to the stairs. Climbing up was for some reason more difficult than usual. Every step seemed higher.

After reaching the top he moved to his bedroom on the left.

This corridor had two doors on the left wall leading to the bedroom and bathroom, and two on the right, a small recording mini studio and storage room. However, on that side in the middle was another corridor leading to another room. That was his library, office room or just a place dedicated to work. He opened the bedroom doors and walked inside. It was perfectly tidied, with no sign of the war. Still no sound in this void. Just an image of the white, printed bed cover. How many times has he confessed to her here? How many times did he touch her naked arms from behind to fall asleep while feeling her presence? Lost in the memories, he stood in silence for a few minutes.

Suddenly the phone started ringing in his pocket. No need to check who is calling. He ran to the bed, ripped the sheets off and threw them on the floor. Stripped the pillow case and duvet cover, ran to the wardrobe under the right wall, grabbed all the rest of the sheets from it, then ran to the stairs and threw it at the bottom... It gave him a little ease. Breathing heavily he was looking down on the abandoned sheets, and slowly the hate start to blooming in his mind.

It was a chaos in his void... It wasn't a void anymore, this became a prison. Cube filled with display screens playing that scene from the night before on loop, and many other scenes from their last year's history. Everything was becoming so clear now. He was naive. He was too absorbed by work and love he felt, that in his mind there was no possibility of doubting her. If not for her, he would probably live for work only anyway...

He moved to the storage room at the end on the left side of the stairs. This was just a simple small room, with white walls and wooden panels covering the floor. Two wardrobes on the left side, a shelving unit on the right and then a wooded glass door cabinet. Many pictures were standing behind the glass, his family, friends and ...YiSeul.

The one he was looking at was a simple couple picture... Was it? She was standing next to him in a summer dress, decorated with painted flowers, holding a small shopping bag in one hand while the other was grabbing his t-shirt sleeve for some reason. He was standing next to her...he just realised he never grabbed her hand. They never held hands randomly...

She was happy about the present. He bought an iPhone, the new model back then, with headphones on Bluetooth, and took her to the cinema to watch Pixar's new animation. She enjoyed it! ...or that's what he thought back then... he won't believe in anything anymore....

He opened the glass and grabbed all the pictures with her, then walked out of the room.

"Your hand was always near mine, I could grab it anytime... ...ah..." he looked at the floor while the teardrops appeared in his eyes corners. Then he thought:

"The sand, Collapsing under our wet steps, The long empty street...

....we didn't care about hurting our feet while running barefoot..." he suddenly took out the phone from his pocket and pressed record. There was a spark in his eyes for a second. The inspiration gave him an ease, idea for a song... He repeated everything and then added:

"The taste of this drink was different with you, I could drink from your lips until I fell..." he gritted his teeth due to sudden waves of sadness which came back again. He froze in one place and closed his eyes: "Because... I was certain... you would be there... Next to me in the morning..." He bent his back and kneeled on the floor while crying. The strong heart has broken...

That was the moment which he couldn't fight anymore... He wiped the tears, stood up and with still clenched teeth threw the picture he was looking at before to the wall, and the rest of them just over the stairs railing...

"I was certain you would be there... How naive was that..." whispered after the screams in the void had passed...

Later, he cleaned up all the mess downstairs and sat on the couch looking at the switched-off TV. The phone start to vibrate, that was Chanyeol. He looked at the screen, but there was no point in answering...he didn't want to speak or see anybody... Suddenly, the intercom bell rang. He rose and moved to the front doors.

"Hi, it's food delivery" he head after pressing the voice button. He then went outside to collect the food. It was raining...

He brought the takeaway inside, grabbed chopsticks and sat down on a couch to eat akisoba, the food he ordered. It was tasty, and the flavour wasn't as much as he expected, but considering he still hadn't eaten anything, hunger made him eat anything.

"You told me you hate akisoba" He suddenly heard her voice in his head, like in a dream, or reality if she'd be there.He stopped... Looked at the half-eaten food, left chopsticks next to it and stayed like this in silence.

"I never said I don't like it, there was always something more interesting on the menu..." he squeezed his head with his hands as if he wanted it to burst. Then grabbed food and hurried to the kitchen's bin to throw it away. Then he brought a big box from the small toilet behind the kitchen and boxed up all the items he had thrown over the stairs railing. Then, while holding the box he rushed to the door and when he was about to press the handle... He slowly backed up, turned to his coat hanging on the rack and put his left hand in the pocket. He took out a small box... That was an engagement ring he bought when he was on a trip... He planned to propose yesterday... Slowly he put it inside the box with all the sheets and the walked outside.

His household waste bins were standing in the garden next to a dumpster. It's not usual to keep a dumpster on house properties, but it was here already when he moved in, and it's useful so he kept it for large rubbish like equipment or furniture. He opened the dumpster and threw the box with the abandoned items. Then stand again in silence . Gazing and the dumpster without any move. Even his breathing has stopped...then the fire exploded inside, embracing the dumpster and creating a dark fog. Small burned pieces were flying around him, floating in the wind, touching his faces naked skin...but he hadn't felt anything... the void was still silent...

*bzzzz bzzz* the phone in his pocket rang. That woke him up from the nightmare which seemed to bring him a little piece of joy. The dumpster was still there, and the non-existing fire disappeared. He grabbed his phone without even looking at the screen, his gaze was still stuck in one place.

"Kyungsoo-yah, what's up? Why not answering my calls?" That was Chanyeol Kyungsoo needed a few seconds to sober.

"Chanyeol-ah..." he whispered

"What's up? Did you just woke up?"

"...YiSeul..."

"We need to get ready, the date is set up for next two weeks. Kim's going mad..."

"YiSeul..." Kyungsoo had to rise his voice slightly to interrupt his friend in full of excitement speech "YiSeul is gone...."

"No man, that's not good. Is it?"

"She left yesterday..."

"But why? Do you want to talk about it?" Kyungsoo lowered his head and grit his teeth, fighting with himself to not break apart. He sobered...

"Kyungsoo-yah, are you coming to work tomorrow?"

It took him few seconds to catch a breath between sobbing and holding and breath to not make any sounds.

"Tell them I feel ill...Chanyeol..." that was the moment when the tears fallen down and he couldn't hold it inside anymore. He crouched holding his stomach. "I don't know what should I do now...she said things I don't understand..." this time sobbing was more aggressive, he wanted to shout, to punch anything standing in his way..."She came back to her ex, never loved me. I was just a substitute...a support in her loneliness..."

"Kyungsoo, you need a break. I'll come by tomorrow...no, tomorrow work...I'll be there in the evening, ok? I'll definitely come..."

"No..."

"...you don't want to see anybody?"

"..."

This few seconds of silence was deafening.

"I understand, give me a call if you need anything. I'll speak with them tomorrow, so no worries. Take your time...see you" He hang up leaving Kyugsoo alone as he was told. On this dark evening, in the pitched black garden, still crouching.

Crying of sorrow...

He woke up in the morning on a bare mattress in the bedroom. In clothes. His mind was still in the void he created, hopefully any memories dissapeared.

He went to the toilet to take a shower, then grabbed a protein baton. No need for a breakfast, even though he is not going to work. His stomach wasn't feeling the hunger or any other need. He grabbed water and after getting dressed in a blue hooded tracksuit with white strips on side, he gone outside. The tracksuit hoodie was covering his head, he didn't want to show his face, nor looking at other people. Using a car was a first thought. His main point of going outside was to buy a new bedding and grocery. However, after grabbing the car doors handle, he changed his mind. He is not fully well to drive, his state of mind is not fully sane to do it, and a walk can help him collect his thoughts.

In the city center he made all the shopping as planned. The main street near his house seemed to calm him down. It's not center anymore, but all the most important shops are here...and life. Crowds of people, individuals, couples or families, all the residents are living their own life.

On This long street was a barber and next to it regular hairdresser, which looked like for women only. Funny how both of them were owned by a couple. Next, accountancy private office, a bar usually crowded by football fans, watching the match and making sure to let all the neighbours know about it. Then corner shop with limited grocery, random items and magazines. The Alley leading down to KyungSoo's place. Pharmacy. And so on... On the other side of the road, the one Kyungsoo was walking, there was a large shop dedicated for kids, electronic devices repair, jewellery shop where, except buying jewellery customers could use other jewellers services. And then KyungSoo's favourite florist's. He will look at the name today, it was bothering him for long time.

"I like this place, can't imagine to live somewhere else" the thought "Atmosphere here is like at home. We all know each other even if we never talked. All the shops were here from when I remember, it would be sad if any of them would disappear...I never showed this to YiSeul...she was always coming straight to my house, or meet in the city center...have I ever been walking with her on this street? Ah..for some reason being here is giving me a peace of mind. I should have walk more, not using car all the.." *BUM*

He jumped on side, barely stayed on his feed. Someone just bumped into him, so he impatiently start searching for the culprit...and opened eyes widely.

"I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry...woow!" This voice! It was her! The girl from the airport!

"How...how is that possible!?" They both shouted at once. She started to laugh, even though he was speechless and still tried to comprehend who is he looking at.

" Are you from here? That's unbelievable! I mean...meeting you!" She said while grabbing the sleeve of his tracksuit. "I really need to go, I hope we will meet again!" She shouted while already running forward " See you, hopefully soon!" And dissapeared...

He needed few more seconds to understand. How is this wicked girl here? He didn't even realised that left corner of his lips has raised. He smiled...? First time from two days...

He turned around and crossed the street, but after reaching other side he turned around to finally check the flower shop's name.

ROSE

...

"This is insane" he thought, and while again his one corner of lips raised slightly showing amusement, he walked down the alley leading to his house.

Back at home, he was using a new bedding sets to cover the sheets. Phone was lying on the table under the window. Vibrating. For long time. He picked it up after finishing.

11 missed calls.

Suddenly, it started to ring again. It was Kim. Kyungsoo haven't felt anything, no panic, nor fear, even though he very much knew what he will hear. He answered...

"Doh Kyungsoo, have you filled the sick leave form?"

...

"For what?"

"Exactly, I don't care about your personal life, and you shouldn't mix it with work too. Your job is important for the company, and if we won't have everything fully prepared before the event I will make sure that was Your last time. You were lucky back then, but..."

("Yeol is talking too much" he thought)

...

"That was many years ago, I always wanted to ask you, are you resending me for staying?" Kyungsoo asked. Silence...

Kim moved on his chair what was head in the mobiles speaker.

" You were THE child, and the reason why I'm mentioning it is because you are again using your personal problems"

"I believe that is a different situation, and I will be back to work...just..need few more da..."

"You need to come to work tomorrow, I don't care how heartbroken you are. I'm hanging up" and so he did...

The void suddenly became loud again. The screens showed moments of fear...when he wanted to hide, when he was running away. When he saw the thousands of eyes, heard the laughs. He covered his ears and crunched.

Suddenly the phone vibrated again, but it wasn't a call, just a text message. He slowly sat down on a bed and looked at the screen.

Message from unknown number...

"Was is Kyunggu or Kyungchu?"

Surprised, he looked up on a different messages from this number as a part of investigation, who is it?

"Do you have my suitcase?!"

Then he messed up his bangs by hand and made irritated facial expression. "It's her..."

The phone buzzed again, so he quickly looked at the screen.

"My real name is Go YoonJung, save it!"

His eyes widened suddenly.

"YoonJung?....why does it sound so familar...?"

[sansloii]

my brain, for no reason: what if ( hear me out ), mikah has the ability to "reincarnate" in their god au. they're the moon but that physical form is just one of many iterations of the god. and since it's possible to have many versions of a singular god, there really wouldn't be any need to prioritize any sort of memory keeping or soul preservation beyond it's basic elements: a name, a purpose, and the capability to do their job and fill their role. it's not instant but gradual, so it's not really all that noticeable initially.

so if they were killed for some reason and their form rebuilt from the cosmos and stars, they'd be a couple fragments less than what they were. as old as they are, pieces of them chip off so easily--lost to time or emptied into the void that all gods succumb to. they know something is missing and something is gone but what it is escapes them. it's like walking into a room and immediately forgetting what you're there for, but you never remember what you were there for. ever.

and if it happens multiple times, that's more fractures and feathers that break off larger and larger pieces of that shell until... it's empty. something that's them in appearance only.

their reason for being stays. that's why they exist. everything else is just a cushion to soften whatever damage their soul takes.

me, sitting in bed with my laptop: me: what the fu

[bloodredx]

Day 27: Strange

Funny how categorical the Precious Living have become. How the arcane and unknown have spread far from the view of minds and their eyes. How relegated to history, banned, and cursed these outliers have transformed. A sense of Order is one thing, but to make negative of items purely neutral, why, this form fails to comprehend. Where does this so called morality come from? What benefit does it offer? Perhaps, something in the nature of organized society lends itself to a series of rules for functioning. How crass and boorish! What joy is there to be found, bound in such mundanity?

Reaching far across the void, following traces of curiosity is the best part of nature. Certainly, some disasters might be kindled in the process, but nothing that will not balance out in the long stretches of energy. Perhaps that is where the miscalculation lies, the eternity a soul experiences by one body is only so short. Fear and delights, cannot be tasted in the same mouth after all.

Though, should one ask the clearly informed opinions of this form, the so called strange of the world are far more in tune with the world, the dances, the Song itself than any other being that holds up any appearances of normality. For those who are at peace with themselves, often ostracized, know that tranquility alone. And those who struggle with what they are supposed to be, whatever that means, are left grasping at identity and struggle with a sense of self until the dying breath. Pray to this form that such struggles are beyond thine notice.

--

The old woman continued prattling on. What exactly she was talking about, didn’t seem to matter much. Aelita’s youthful companion kept his attention on every word, even without really adding much to the conversation. He was funny like that, such a good listener but rarely getting a word in himself. Perhaps that silence was what made him so good at it. Still, she set up their board game with simple pieces, small disks along the edge of the playing field.

Aiden watched politely, having retied his hair into a proper knot behind his head. A sudden fall in the conversation, and his mouth parted just enough to speak in his whispered voice. “Madam, may I ask you something?”

Her hand paused a moment, hovering just over a stack of pieces. Slowly her fingers curled around them, causing quite the satisfying click as they slid past each other. “Well, my dear. I fear you just did.” A moment of sobriety passed over, quickly interrupted by her raucous laughter. “Oh, I really should stop being so hard on you, but your face fills itself with dread so nicely. Ask whatever you like, Aiden. I have no secrets from anyone these days.”

A hint of a smile revealed itself on his lips, a polite “thank you” as she handed him the chips. He organized them by color, rank, and by counts as his mind seemed to churn on his question. Aelita smiled gently, waiting as he found his words. When they finally came, it was to no surprise the boldness of the inquisition. “Madam, why do you continually offer to play with me?”

“Oh, is that all? Thought you had something more critical, life threatening or otherwise.”

A mark of disbelief passed quickly, but he recounted instead of recoiling. “We have had many rounds since our meeting, but you have yet to win once. Does this not dishearten you? Frustrate? I cannot imagine it has been very pleasurable.”

“My sweet, it is not about winning or losing.” Her time stained hand gently reached out, taking one of his hands gently. “When you’re as old as I, and gods bless you to make it as far as I have, it is enough to have someone to share the company. As you can see, there hasn’t been much room for entertaining in these parts. Not that anyone would come knocking at my door anyways. My favorite game requires at least another player, blessed I should be to have a chance at playing at all. Win or lose.”

“I see.” His head turned slowly, facing the warmth of the window’s light. The heat of the day would be quickly passing. A few dragonflies skittered about, diving and swooping in their quest for a meal. All seemed calm as the waves of long grass around her property flickered in the gentle breeze. Peaceful, that was how it was, how it should be. “May I inquire to the nature of this solitude? Perhaps bold, but it seems a bit perilous to you to be on your lonesome. What if you fall? Get hurt? Do you not fear this newfound death?”

She laughed again, this time more softly as she reached for a tea cup and took a small sip. The warm beverage was nice on her throat, tired as it was. “It is a new fear, death, yes. To leave the body and become so entrenched in the misery of what it means to be without life. But bah, who has time to worry when all is already lost? The First One already made their declarations. Who am I to fear or stand in the way of the divine? All songs need an end, so why not the Song?”

The woman’s eyes closed, she seemed surprisingly at peace with this new inevitability. “That… is surprising.”

“I know, it’s hard to explain, child. But, I’ve seen a lot more in this life than I think I deserved. Besides, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my oldest friend again? It’s been so long.”

He perked up at that, confusion leeching into his eyes. “Old friend?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret.” A playful grin again tore across her face. “But you have to promise to never tell anyone. ‘Least not till I’m dead and gone, alright?”

Aiden nodded slowly, somewhat hesitant to agree to such terms, but it seemed curiosity got the better of him. “Very well. You have my word.”

“Such formalities.” Aelita teased again, resisting the urge to reach across the table and pinch his cheek. “But thank you. You do an old woman an honor she doesn’t deserve.” Some weight quickly lifted off her shoulders, and she sat back with a pleased smile. “It may surprise you, but in my youth I was the priestess attendant to Adamsa Frisay. Though my service opinions on service at the time were mixed, I now better understand the purpose of that task. So yes, I am quite eager to meet my old friend again. Perhaps go on a long walk, before taking me back to wherever I am destined to go. I wager he will give a gentle hand. Never one for surprises that one. Always up front, due for duty.”

Aiden shuffled slightly in his seat, eyes set upon the game pieces before him. “I think…” He picked up the first chip and made his first move on the board. “I should like to view him in the same way you do.”

(OC-tober challenge by @oc-tober2022 can be found here.)