#panicked OC the entire time I was writing this

[deformedcat]

the fake princess

pairing: reincarnated male reader x yandere prince oc

fic includes: arranged marriage, cross dressing, reader's death (briefly mentioned), Dom to sub bottom male reader, rough sex, rimming 2x, gruwhdbwb will add more in the morning

note: THIS IS NOT FINISHED!! tumblr is rlly messing me up by posting my work earlier whenever i save my draft lol. feel free to read as i write the ending. reader is male! a male!! a certain character will be calling him "lady" for the plot!! i wont spoil much but please keep that in mind ;; this is messy lmao

poor you were just on the way back to your apartment after a barbeque party with your friends— until a drunk man grabbed you from the dark alley way and stabbed you in the stomach and pussied out after he realized what he did.

is this how you die? fuck, he couldve do you a favour by taking you out in one go and not run away?? loser behaviour.

you laid down in your own blood in the dimly lit alley way, your vision slowly getting blurry as your surrounding turns into a blur of colours and into nothing.

before slipping into darkness, you heard a loud voice shouting out your name. its too late, bootlicking shitfuck.

you opened your eyes by the sound of bird chipping, you stared up at the bright blue sky accompanied by someone with dark brown hair and green eyes staring back at you.

"Lady Amador.. it's time to go back to the palace. the prince is looking foward for you during lunch time."

who the fuck is lady amador, and why are they wearing a maid outfit?

sitting up, you take note of the grass underneath you instead of the rough concrete floor from earlier- are you hallucinating to the point youre in this nice garden..? huh, why are you wearing a dress, did a creep kidnapped you and dress you in one of their grandma's dresses?!

panicking, you got up towards the pond and looked into your own reflection. you still looked the same as before, you cant say the same since your hair looked much longer and the light makeup on your face.

lady amador.. prince?? garden.. holy- is that a palace behind you?! whats going on?!

before you could brainstorm any longer, the person from earlier waved their hand in front of you, catching your attention. "lady amador, its time to go. prince sebastian is looking for you."

prince sebastian? sebastian..

slowly, everything clicked to you, did you really reincarnated as one of the characters in the novel "The Villainess's Ultimate Plan!" holy shit.

you touched your face, and then looked into the pond again, that face..

the villainess younger brother?!

the one who disguised as the protagonist.. the one that planned the entire scheme to assassinate the crown prince but end up getting beheaded one day after the wedding night?!

with that information, your vision fade into black once again.

"My lady?!"

jerking awake, you hunched over, clasping a hand against your face. you slowly takes a few deep breathe, you slowly brought your hand away.

you looked to your side, the same person from earlier is standing next to you with a worried expression. not only them, a man with bright gold hair is sitting on a chair nearby reading a book.

prince fucking sebastian. the man that you're supposed to kill during you and the prince's wedding night.

he looked up from his book and walked up to you, you flinched away when he raised his hand, he stopped his action before he promptly caressing your face.

"you, please step out of Lady Penelope's room." he ordered the person (the maid maybe?), and they complied.

there was an awkward silence in the room, he was still holding your face, you looked at the side, scared to hold any eye contact with the man in front of you.

"look at me." he said in a stern voice, like a mom scolding her child.

so you did, afraid of any consequences. (since he was the same man that's willing to destroy the kingdom for your supposed sister.)

he let go of your face before sitting onto the side of the bed, his face is blank,, as if he dont care about you, but the worried tone in his voice said otherwise.

"y/n." you jumped at the name, how did he know your name- wasnt he supposed to call you by your sister's name ?! before you can say amything, he cut you off.

"..i was waiting for you at the dining table, but i got the news of you fainting in the garden right after waking up from your nap."

"..i apologize."

he leans in towards you, settling his hands onto your face once again as if to inspect for any injuries, he lets go once again when he saw no visible injuries.

"i know you prefer to be called lady amador when it comes to appearing as your sister, but a maid was here, and i have to convince people we have a medium love with each other.

especially when our wedding night is two days from now on."

what. the story already started?! no- screw that, how did he know you were pretending to be penelope?!

"how did you know im not lady penelope?" you kissed your teeth, gripping onto the comforter, subtly slapping the prince's hand away when he tried to reach for yours.

"lady penelope had sent a letter to me, personally stating about her plan, and we agreed on one term: i keep you safe and she sends me information of the war, simple.

though, i shall say, youre quite the beauty."

you were about to curse at penelope but your ears becoming warm after he said that, he chuckled before getting up of the bed.

"most married or engaged couples have monthly night together, and ours is two night from now on. we wont do anything sensual, do not worry."

"what-"

"see you tomorrow at lunch, dear." he kissed you on the forehead before walking out of your room.

for the next two days, you learnt the person at the garden is your personal maid, Andrea. apparently she found you laying on the ground at the garden (that sebastian built for you.) after you stated you were gonna take a stroll.

you also met your personal knight, William, Penelope's second love interest but was sadly killed when he defended you during your trail.

the three of you got along well, often seen having conversation near the garden or having tea party together. sebastian watched from his office and smiled at the sight of you chatting with Andrea.

william on the other hand,, have been too close to you for his liking. he nearly ripped an important paper when he saw william wiping off some biscuit crumbs from your face- why is he so touchy? Andrea couldve done that using a napkin.

he broke his pen, the black ink soaked his hand and his paper work. did you like damian better than him? why did you become flustered when the knight spoke about something?

should he get rid of him?

how troublesome.

he remembered when a butler and notify him what happened to you. he nearly tear down the entire palace when you didnt wake up for two hours he almost frown when you flinched and move away from him when he reach out to you. the way you were nervous around him,,

he slowly calmed down, reminding himself that you and his night together is tonight. he sighed, he should finish his work first then meet you tonight.

back in your chamber, Andrea and a few other maids helped you to get ready, even helping you to take a bath. you enjoyed the smell of lavender from the soapy water, an old maid massaged your body when you're just soaking inside the bathtub.

the old lady was kind enough to even offer you a drink as she tells you stories of her youth.

after that and when Andrea deemed you 'clean', began to dress you into a white night gown made with the finest silk, the strap of the grown barely hanging on your shoulder. the maid had explained that you have to wear this because 'the prince gave the gown as a gift.'

was he not shameless when his gift includes a set of lingerie?!

you fidget around with the ring, Andrea styled your hair into a loose braid, making sure you look presentable before leading you to the prince's chamber. you insisted that you walked by yourself, so she went back to the maid headquarter.

walking down the dimly lit hallway, no one is wandering except for a few knight patrolling. you soon arrived in front of his room, knocking a few time to make your presence known "sir sebastian-"

before you could finish, sebastian opened the door and grab you by the waist, dragging you into the room.

he lifts you up and carries you to the spacious bed, he gently laid you down and take a whiff of your scent before mumbled out a "you smells nice.."

you looked at him with wide eyes, he was only wearing a robe- your eyes wonders down and sees his toned body that he had clearly worked on. he noticed you and grinned, taking your hand and putting it on his chest

"like what you see?"

if you could kill him right now you would.

instead, you pushed him down the bed, him lying down on the bed and you on top.

"what if i do?

also.. i will be the one in charge tonight."

you leaned down, opening his robe hastily and take one nipple into your lips.

sebastian nearly flipped you over, but he held himself back. he moaned when you grinned onto his crotch, he lightly tugged your hair, leaning in as if asking for a kiss.

you gave him what he wanted, he softly moaned into the kiss, slowly his hand make its way towards your shorts, pulling it down your ankle before he pulls away from the kiss.

he sat up against the bed frame and settled you on his lap, he took in the sight of you wearing his gift- that he had commissioned for it to fit you, and god.

you are so pretty.

hair messy from the kissing session, the collar of the gown was low enough for him to see the lacey bra, a garter designed with silver lining tightly wrapped around your thigh and the underwear that only covered your erected cock-

he want to eat you up,,

so he did.

Sebastian was known to be a beast in bed as he was known in the battlefield,, was what the novel described him.

Unfortunately they were true to their words, his thrust was harsh and deep, creating impacts thats enough to make you cry out.

so much of being gentle?! he even ripped off your outfit, leaving you naked!

he was nice enough to eat you out earlier, even giving you to opportunity to ride his face.

sebastian continue with this harsh pace, holding one of your leg onto his shoulder while another holds your hand. his apologized multiple times while grunting, saying things likes

"im sorry- ah! youre so tight!"

"mm- if you keep moaning like that- hng! i wont be able to slow down-"

"dear.. mmh.. im sorry.. i'll take care of you later-!" im gonna kill you, you handsome bastard!!

you clung onto him on each thrust, it just feel so-! sebastian suddenly changed the position, pushing you on your knees while holding your arms at the back,

"se-sebasti- ah! wait-! mngh!" he holds your hand behind you back tightly to ground you, the position didnt help at all, you couldnt muffle your moans and his dick reach deeper than it did in the previous position.

he panted, letting go of your arms fearing that your arm is sore. he gave an apologetic kiss on your forehead before continuing .

he grunted when you tighten around him, he tried to sooth you by giving stroking your cock, but that only add to the pleasure as you cried out of overstimulation.

you felt like you were melting.

you had climax into sebastian's hand, fuck- why isnt he stopping-?! you continued to cry out before he stuff his finger with your cum into your mouth, you immediately bit onto his fingers to muffle your moans.

his climax came sooner than you expected, he twitched and came inside. he slowed down his thrust, riding out his climax before pulling out.

you panted, thinking its over,, until sebastian gripped your aas and spread them apart revealing your winking hole, dripping out his children batter.

without hesitation, he dive in as if its his last meal, slurping and eating his own cum. you moaned at this, trying to push him away but he stayed still.

"what are you-"

"round 2? gotta have heirs for the future y'know.." he said with a toothy grin, flipping you over your back and pressing you thigh until your ankle reach your chest.

"ah?!"

the knights guarding outside sebastian's chamber looked at each other then looked down, the two of them had an erection from your moaning- tone it down sometimes!

a/n: not proud with this one, will check and edit it in the morning (its 3.56 am right now) goodnight ^_^

[sorchathered]

The Willows Never Stopped Weeping for You

Pairing-Tyler Owens x female OC (Olivia Wright)

Warnings- language, drinking, angst, death, injury, smut

Summary- Olivia let Tyler go to carry out his dreams, but broke his heart in the process. What happens when in the wreckage of a little small town he learns the real reason she left him, and how do they repair it?

A/N- we back at it again on the angst train, third week in a row lol!! I really loved this one, twisters was so good and I am excited to start writing for the fandom! As always, like, comment, reblog anything to let me know what you think!

“We’ve gotta get the hell out of dodge, we can’t sit here any longer Ty!” Dani is panicked, sweat dripping from their brow as they tremble, eyes wild and afraid of what will happen if they don’t make it out.

“I can’t- I can’t leave without her goddamnit and you know it, go ahead of me, you gotta trust me! We will make it out of here, get everyone to safety Dan, I’m serious get the hell out of here!” He yells over the roar of the wind, shoving them towards the rv and as much as it pains the crew, they know Tyler would die in this storm before he ever left Olivia behind. She was his everything, he’d loved her his whole life, and even if things were broken between them he would die a thousand times over to make sure she was safe.

——————————————————————

The crew had been up and down the state the past few weeks, working together with Javi and his crew to test out Kate’s theory and it had been one hell of a ride. They’d mostly been able to help keep the damage to a minimum, but as always with storms like these it was always a risk.

The little town on the outskirts of Enid had been ravaged more than once, but this storm seemed to be hell bent on taking whatever was left of the small community and turning it to rubble. So many injured, and so many homes and businesses destroyed, it seemed like a no-brainer that the government would send aid relief workers to help repair the damage, but what Tyler Owens hadn’t foreseen was the bright green eyes and auburn hair of his first love as he helped people in the aftermath.

Olivia Wright had been his everything since he was fourteen years old, occupied every one of his dirty fantasies and dreams of the future. He’d never been more sure of anyone in his life, until they’d crashed and burned so spectacularly shortly after college. He’d fallen in love with storm chasing, his dreams of working for the NWS had turned into something else entirely as he and the crew of misfits he migrated to became more and more obsessed with the beauty and danger these storms brought.

Liv had their whole future planned, finish college, get married. Ty would work for the NWS and she would become a nurse, fulfilling your passion to help people and getting to be by his side while he pursued his passion for meteorology. The two of them were growing apart, everyone could see it but him, and she knew she’d have to be the one to let go, he was always bigger than the whole sky and Liv couldn’t bear to keep him down. So she broke his heart and her own, and in that time she watched him flourish. His channel and all of his friends, the articles written about his discoveries, she watched it all with rapt attention, he was living out his dreams and Liv couldn’t have been more proud. Eventually she had to decide what was best for her, and watching storms ravage communities just like hers in Arkansas became too much to bear, working in disaster relief and helping to save lives became her passion, she kept her head down and let the work take over, but never lost hope that one day she’d run smack dab into that man that was as wild as the western wind.

It had happened less like a rom com and more like a horror movie, he’d seen her first and lost his cool immediately, ducking under an awning and scrambling to find somewhere, anywhere else to be but near her. Lily, who had been both of their friends in college couldn’t quite figure out what the hell was wrong with him, but it didn’t take long to spot her bright hair and the FEMA t-shirt Liv was sporting as she handed out water to a group not far from theirs.

“Oh my God is that my Livvy?!” She shrieked as she ran for her friend, the two of them erupting in giggles and swaying each other in the midst of the debris-covered road.

“Lily bug!! Oh my goodness what are y’all doing here?! I thought from your last video you guys were over near Lawton!” She said, smacking a hand over her mouth as she realized she’d given herself away already.

“Ooh so you have been watching hmm? Come say hi to everyone cutie pie, it’s been too long and we need to catch up.” She pulled her along but Liv tried to dig her heels in, wild green eyes panicked.

“I can’t intrude Lils, and I don’t want to make Tyler uncomfortable, I’m sure he doesn’t want to see me” she says as she puts both hands up in surrender but Lily is having none of it.

“Nope, you don’t get to pussy out Olivia, life is too short and you know it. Now come on! I want to hear all about your life, and Dani makes some bomb ass burritos so you should try to eat something, it’s gonna be a long day babygirl.

————————————————————-

He somehow manages to avoid her like the plague all day, catching glimpses here and there but mostly staying close to Kate and Javi, much to Lily's frustration if the glares she’s cut at him all afternoon are any indication.

Livvy wasn’t quite sure what to make of it; she had been watching them for so long online that she felt like she knew the crew personally, they were some of the kindest people she’d ever met and it wasn’t lost on her that all of them had been brought together by Ty. He’d made himself a family, it was just another thing that she had missed her chance on and she couldn’t help but feel a little emotional over it.

When Kate had come over to introduce herself later in the evening, it had been obvious to Olivia that she and Tyler had something going on. It was hard to dislike her, she was beautiful and kind, and smart as a whip from what Liv could tell. Definitely perfect for him, so after a while of watching them all interact and being all but ignored by her oldest friend, it got to be too much and she found a way to make her escape, using an early morning as an excuse and holing up in her motel room to lick her wounds and cry.

Lily chases after her with another nasty glare in Tyler’s direction, everyone had questions now and he couldn’t give them, waving them off with a middle finger as he stumbled through the parking lot, a little tipsy and feeling an ache in his chest that he’d thought he’d healed from.

“Liv! Stop damnit, I know this shit is hard but just talk to me honey, tell me.” Lily shouts into the crowded lot and watches her friend's shoulders sag as she turns with tears sliding down her cheeks.

“Oh Lily.” She lets out a ragged breath and lets it all wash over her, everything she’s left unsaid and held deep inside. “I could never deny him happiness, if it’s not with me that’s OK, it’s been a long time and I’ve learned to accept it. If Kate makes him happy then of course I want that for him. I never stopped loving him, so of course I would always want what’s best for him. It wasn’t right back then Lily, that kinda love was unpredictable. We were growing together like two gnarled trees, neither of us were helping the other reach our potential and I had to let him go so we didn’t end up hating each other. “ A shudder runs through her at the declaration, tears are threatening to seep from her eyes but she won’t give them the satisfaction.

“That sounds like horseshit and you know it” Lily says she jabs her finger into Liv’s shoulder, her eyes are full of fire. Liv knows she means well, she’s always been a good man in the storm, someone you want in your corner when things get hard which is why she’s so glad that Tyler has her. Liv lets her shoulders sag and look at Lily full of defeat.

“I can’t change it now, even if I wish I could.”

“Do you wish you could?” She says with raised eyebrow and Olivia gives her a little nod.

“Every day. I miss him every day.” Tears well up in her eyes and she shivers as the wind blows through the camp, but she won’t let the pain overtake her, she made her choice and she can only hope that he’ll be happy.

Olivia doesn’t see it but Lily does, Tyler is half hidden behind the RV, he’s heard it all and she watches as his face goes from grief stricken to angry turning on his heel as he walks off into the dark, the weight of her confession breaking his heart all over again.

—————————————————

He paces the concrete hallway of the motel for what feels like hours, letting the weight of what she said run over him. Had he really been so blind? Olivia hadn’t wanted to let him go, and he’d never thought to question it when she pushed him away. He had been hurt and stubborn, shutting down immediately and saying some of the meanest things he could hurl at her to hurt her back. In hindsight he should have known she was just trying to give him the ability to do what he wanted, but just the fact that she had convinced herself that she was what was holding him back made a fire rage in him. Sure it would have been hard to manage, but they could’ve handled it! They could handle anything together, he’d always told her that, why she would have ever thought otherwise was something he couldn’t reconcile with.

He was at her door before he could stop himself, rapping sharply on the peeling metal and praying that she would listen. The sounds of the lock being undone told him she was still awake, the door swinging open to reveal her puffy tear stained face, hair up in a messy knot on her head and an oversized t shirt full of holes, one that had definitely belonged to him.

“Why are you here Ty? You’d had all day to say something to me, and you waited until midnight?” She said with a sniffle, there was no point in trying to hide what she’d been doing, it was all over her face and his heart clenched in his chest knowing he’d hurt her again.

“You didn’t want us to end, did you?” He said gruffly, he wasn’t leaving until he got his answers, he needed to know the truth.

“What does it matter now? You’re with Kate-“ she said as more tears formed, arms wrapped tightly around her waist as though she was trying to hold herself together.

“I’m not. We tried it, but she’s got her own demons to work out, and we agreed it would be better to be friends. Answer my question baby, I need to hear it. Do you still want me?” He was leaning in close to the door frame now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body and smell the beer on his breath. Liv let out a ragged breath and nodded, that was all he needed to push the door the rest of the way open and pull her into his arms, kicking the door shut behind him as he pressed kisses to her cheek and neck while she held on for dear life. Sobs wracked her body as he sat down on the creeky mattress, pulling her into his lap as he rocked her side to side.

“My sweet girl” he murmured into her hair, he let her cry it all out until she relaxed in his grip, tipping her chin up to look at him as he stroked her cheek.

“I never stopped hoping for this, I didn’t want to hold you back but- I can’t stay away anymore. I-I love you Ty, I always will.” She stuttered and he let out a groan as he pressed his mouth to hers, flipping them both so she was on her back and spread out for him, she’d been the star of every fantasy he’d ever had, and nothing would ever be as good as the real thing.

“I never stopped either Livvy girl, can I have you? Please baby I- I need it, need to show you how much I missed you.” He looks wrecked, hair a mess and eyes wild, and she can’t stop herself from pulling him down to her, licking into his mouth and running her hands over his broad shoulders, watching him shiver in her embrace as he grinds down into her.

They make up for all the time lost, re-learning each other's bodies until the early morning, finally coming up for air when Tyler’s phone begins to go off with weather alerts and texts from Boone.

“Looks like there’s another cell coming this way, we need to get these people to safety while we can.” He says with a sigh as he rolls his body off of hers, she’s sated and happy as she stretches her limbs like a cat and moans, he feels himself twitch in his boxers as he watches her. She’s like a siren, calling him back to her and he wants nothing more to than to stay right here between the sheets and ravage her again.

“Stop looking at me like that Owens, or we’ll never get out of here in time” she playfully punches his chest and he lets out a hearty laugh, they’d have plenty of time to talk and catch up, he wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight anytime soon.

“Ok, ok sugar, let’s get back out here, storms a comin’ and times a wastin’.”

——————————————————————-

He should have known. He should have known they’d never get that lucky, especially knowing how unpredictable the storms had been this season.

They thought they’d had more time, weather warnings saying the tornado would likely just pass the town, but it had all gone wrong. What had started out as one had turned into two, splitting off and causing maximum damage to what was left of the area. He’d lost Liv and Boone somewhere along the way, Kate and Javi and the rest of the crew were safely out of danger, but somehow the twister had gotten between his truck and yours, and when the dust had settled you and Boone were nowhere to be found.

He was sick, bile crawling up his throat as he trembled, they’d been searching the perimeter when he’d heard Boone screaming for help, tearing through the field of corn to find your upturned truck, mangled and covered in broken glass. Boone had tried his best to pull you from the wreckage, but his shoulder was mangled; most likely dislocated from the crude angle it hung from.

Tyler pulled Olivia’s limp body out and heard a sharp gasp from her, she was alive, that was good. At least that was what he thought until he got her in his arms and saw the jagged shrapnel wedged in her abdomen, blood flowing like a water hose from the wound, way too much to be a minor wound. She kept lolling her head back and forth as she tried to lift her hand to his face, god there was blood everywhere, he couldn’t take the metal out, what if that made it worse? He yelled for Boone to give him his shirt, tears pouring from his eyes as he tried to stop the bleeding, but it just wouldn’t stop coming.

“Livvy, baby look at me ok?” He says with a gentle pat to her cheek, her eyes keep rolling around in her head as she tries to focus on something, anything, but she just can’t seem to get there.

Finally she seems to see him through her unfocused bloodshot eyes, a small victory and he breathes for the first time since he found her.

“Oh god, Ty there’s so much blood! What happened? Are- are you ok? How do we stop it? We need help!” She cries out as her body shakes in his arms, she’s going into shock and bleeding to death but is still selfless to the end, always worried about everyone but herself.

He’s sobbing so hard now he can hardly speak, just kissing whatever skin he can get to as he holds her tightly, still pressing hard into the gaping wound despite knowing it won’t do anything to stop the inevitable. He’s going to lose her, and he just got her back.

A scream comes from somewhere, Tyler jolting awake from the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. He’s drenched in sweat, and his neck aches, as he looks around the dimly lit room he realizes the scream came from him. He’s replayed that awful night over and over for the past three days, it ends with Olivia choking on her own blood as she fades away and he can’t seem to make his brain understand that while it definitely happened that way, the end result wasn’t quite so gruesome. She’s alive, unconscious, but alive. How EMS found them in time will consume his thoughts for a good long while. He’d been so sure he’d lost her but the miracles just kept coming because somehow the doctors were able to save her and had assured him that though recovery would be long and hard she would in fact recover.

—————————————————————

Months later he would still be convinced it was all just a dream, the nightmares had ceased but the jagged scar along Olivia’s sternum would always be there to remind him of how close he’d come to losing it all.

He lived for chasing storms, he’d convinced himself it was everything he’d ever need after she’d left, but he’d been so wrong.

She’d never ask him to give it up, but he didn’t know if he could continue to run after something that had nearly taken everything from him. He and Kate took a job consulting with the NWS on her research after Ben’s article got traction, and he left his truck to Boone to continue the legacy and the channel. He wanted to prevent the storms from happening before they started and he knew with Kate’s research and the grants from the government they could really dig in and make a difference.

He asked her to marry him on her birthday, 6 months after the accident and she’d said yes before he could even finish his speech. The future hadn’t been linear like he thought, he didn’t have to accept what he thought he deserved and finally allowed himself to accept what he wanted. Olivia Wright Owens sounded damn good to him, and maybe one day a house full of babies. Yeah he could definitely make that his new dream.

Tagging- @sailor-aviator @goldenseresinretriever @hangmanapologist @roosterforme @trickphotography2 @mynameismckenziemae @seitmai @sebsxphia @im-just-ken @kmc1989 @jessicab1991 @dizzybee03 @nouis-bum @attapullman @bobgasm @floydsglasses @withahappyrefrain

[kissforyouu]

Would you ever write a little drabble or something of oc having a huge reaction & going off at jk & how he responds? Or how he just crumbles lmao like you said he would 😭😂

"but then it didn't make sense, noh? i asked rhea about the theme and it was beach. the clothes they've provided us with are nowhere near beach? i don't know how we're gonna come up with a beachy look with those. i mean, kook, it's literally a long dress. even worse, it's fucking formal! who wears formal to the beach? nobody! but you know what the worst part is? they said we weren't allowed to use the given clothes to make new ones. like, what? that doesn't make sense at all", you continued with your rant, "it's unfair, to be honest. it was just our time and like 2 more out of the entire competition who got these non beachy looking clothes. it doesn't make sense. but we're all thinking of making a complaint. i have to win, you know." you nod, body slanted against the table.

"what do you think—" pause.

"you're not even listening are you?" you glare at your boyfriend, who's been glued to his phone for the past 20 minutes. he's watching some football match. a fucking football match.

he mindlessly nods, pretending to listen. he doesn't even know what you're saying!

"you're not listening to me."

once he just nods again, you groan and then just slap his arm. jungkook jolts at the sudden hit from you, looking up from his phone.

"what?"

"you're not listening to me." you whine.

"hm, no, i was." liar.

"quit lying, jungkook."

"nah, nah, i was." he looks back at his phone again. you hate when he acted like this. makes you feel ignored.

"see! again! you're not listening to me!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air.

jungkook groans, rolling his eyes at you. you gasp, looking at your boyfriend with pure shock. did he just roll his eyes at you? oh no, he didn't!

"my bad."

the short careless responds were annoying you to the core.

"okay." your voice is stern. you get up, stomping your way around his room. he still doesn't bother to look at you or anything, eagerly watching his match. and just because you're such a dramatic spoiled bitch, you grab your bag and put on your shoes. your boyfriend, who was playing with his lower lip, drifts his eyes away from his stupid football match for a moment. and suddenly, he starts panicking.

nah, you were gonna leave. oh he messed up.

"baby, where you going?" his lazy ass finally gets up from his bed, brushing his hands on his sweats as he walked towards you.

you scoff, looking away dramatically.

"home."

"nah, come on, stay." he grips onto your arm tightly.

"no. because my boyfriend who invited ME over isn't paying me any attention because of some stupid fucking football game!"

"baby, i'm so sorry, okay? i didn't realise. now come on, don't go."

you squint your eyes and look at your boyfriend with a glare. and because you love the game, you decline again.

"y/n, i'll be better, come onnn. you can't just leave. i'm sorry i was being an ass to you earlier. please stay. let's cuddle and watch a movie or something. i'll rub your feet and give you a massage too." you try not to break into a laugh at the rubbing your feet part and somehow manage to keep an expressionless face.

"you need to be put on timeout."

"okay, say less."

jungkook walks back to his bed, sits on and faces his wall. he stares at it blankly as if he was a toddler who had just gotten scolded by their parent. the sight was hilarious. god, the things he does because of you. i mean, you didn't mean it literally, but he just accepted it.

"am i good now?" your boyfriend peaks at you slowly. you scowl. he slightly finds it funny and cute at the same time. everything you do is cute for him.

"come on, sweetheart. don't look at me like that." you kiss your teeth at his slightly flirty comment.

"okay. i'll stay." jungkook releases a loud sigh, falling back onto the bed.

"you're so dramatic sometimes."

"I'M LEAVING!"

(okay ik this isn't a major argument but i js thought this would be cute😭😭)

taglist:

@fungie2332 @wintertxt @wheexine @hyunjinswifeee @ohsweetmimosa @canyon-txt @kooreo @rrosiitas @goldenjeonkoo

[the-banana-0verlord]

Love

Requested by @angeltreesunshine (i don't take requests anymore btw). You didn't specify which characters but you did send the request on my overblot malleus blog so i included him. I also included kalim because he was the one i had most ideas for. I really hope you enjoy!

Cw: i realized half-way through i wasn't comfortable with writing yandere that aren't ocs or canon yanderes anymore so there's that, possibly ooc, yandere stuff, implied kidnapping, obsession, reader has a mental breakdown.

Reader is gender neutral

🕯🕯��

Love.

It's a wonderful feeling, right? To look at someone in the eyes and think "I wish to spend the rest of my life with them."

But you knew better. You knew the truth about it. How it clawed at your chest, ripping your heart to shreds. How it left you broken beyond repair. What a wretched thing.

So why did he have to come in? Why did he have to appear in your life, bringing in the doomed butterflies?

"Why....why..." you uttered between sobs, your legs giving in as you slid down the wall behind you. The deserted courtyard could only echo your words. Tears as black as ink(or was it really ink? You didn't really know or care at this point) rolled down your cheeks.

"I wish I could just erase my feelings... I'm not cut out for love... Why can't it just go away!?" You cried aloud

Not knowing he was there, hearing your every word.

🕯🕯🕯

Malleus Draconia

How intriguing you were. Unafraid of him but terrified of love, the very thing he longed for. Yes, how truly intriguing.

The sound of his heels resonated closer and closer to you until he was standing in front of you, his shadow cast over your crouching body. He kneeled down at your level.

"Well well well, what do we have here?" He whispered, placing a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You looked up quickly, confused and panicked. In your sorrow, you hadn't noticed him arriving. He gently wiped your tears away with his thumb, leaving a dark stain. He was smiling, but there was no warmth to it.

"Wh-what are you doing?!" you spoke out, voice hoarse from crying.

"Shh..." he answered simply.

He took you in his arms and stood up again. He grabbed your hand and put it on his cheek.

"Look at us, what poor souls we are. Doomed to a life of unfortunate affection. How better would it be if we lived it together?"

You protested:

"Don't say that. It would only make it worse. I'm not sharing my life with anyone, even id it's you."

Especially if it's you.

Malleus brought your hand to his heart, this time. You could feel it thumping even through his thick dorm uniform.

"Do you feel it beat? It beats for you, my dear. No matter what. No matter if you don't want me. But you do. You're only scared. You'll see we're meant to be."

Green lights started forming around the both of you. As it began to cover you entirely, he brought his face close to yours.

That night, you disappeared from Night Raven College. You would learn to love Malleus, and you would stay together for eternity.

🕯🕯🕯

Kalim Al-Asim

Afraid of love? How could that be possible?! Love was the best feeling in the world! It made you all warm and fuzzy inside. It made his body catch on fire whenever he saw you.

So when he witnessed you all broken down in tears on the ground... It made him ache. He just had to show you how beautiful it was!

After that night, his behavior changed oh-so slightly. His usual clinginess became even more overwhelming. He wanted to spend every minute with you, and he was always either hugging you or holding your hand. You would also get showered with all kinds of presents.

It made you more uncomfortable than ever. Your skin crawled everytime his fingertips were laid on you. Your body had a natural knee-jerking, stomach-churning reaction to his dreaded affection. You tried to avoid him as much as you could, but it never seemed to work. He would always find you, wherever, whenever.

If he kept on like this, you wouls get used to it, right? Just like how people cured their arachnophobia by looking at pictures of spiders. It would work, Kalim was sure of it.

And before you knew it, a golden cage had formed around you.

🕯🕯🕯

I hope you have a good day/night!

[ilys00ga]

Exes to lovers hurt/comfort with Yoongi? Oc is going through a really hard time and one minor inconvenience sets her up to break down and yoongi finds her and they seek solace to each other because no one listens like Yoongi does. Just a moment of oc burrowing her head on his shoulder in silence and boom. Happy ending.

I GO BACK TO YOU, EVERYTIME !

pairing: yoongi x female reader.

genre: hurt/comfort, exes to lovers, post breakup, some bitter sweetness and fluff as well, yoongi is very sweet, they still love each other hahaha.

warnings: none, I think. oh some mentions of cheating. lots of crying lolol.

A/N: hello, I am SORRY for the late upload of this. I keep losing track of writing and posting 😫 but thank u sm for this <3 I hope you like it, I wasn't sure how and what to write tbh but that's what I could come up with...

I tried using "she/her" pronouns instead of "you" for some change, I hope that's fine with u!

I have one more request to make, and it'll probably be posted after a week or something:') but yeah, thanks to everyone who sent me reqs. this was so fun. remember, u can send more they are currently open! (my exams are in like one week or so lmfao)

PS. English is not my first language, so u know the drill.

the tip of yoongi's ears began to ache, and his eyes felt so heavy after several hours of sitting in front of his computer screen, wearing the same set of headphones on his head.

he rubbed his tired face with his palms and threw his head back with a loud groan. he was exhausted. this specific project he was working on consumed him the most this month.

just as he was about to resume his work, the door to his studio rang, and he huffed. the grumpy man up with slumped shoulders and a scowl ready to stare daggers at whoever decided it was just the perfect timing to interrupt his misery.

"....yoongi..." a whimper of his name made his head snap up and face the woman standing right in front of him. his eyes widened as he saw her flushed face twisted with tears running down her cheeks. visibly fresh stains of coffee covered her attire, and her hands were shaking.

swallowing, he didn't utter a word, standing there as he felt his heart pumping cold blood through his wide chest and into his entire body. it's been nearly two years since he'd last spoken to her after the messed up break-up they had.

"yoongi.." a sob shook the woman's shoulders this time as she crouched down, crying and shrinking into her own self right in front of him.

if you'd travel back two years and more ago in time, you'd see yoongi wasting no time in wrapping his arms around her body, but that sweet privilege he once had is long since gone. the she and he that once made this very beautiful thing is long since gone. she were no longer "her" and he was no longer "him". it was hard to decide whether to say "thankfully" or "unfortunately" each time yoongi recalled that gut-wrenching fact.

instead, he quickly kneeled in front of her, hesitating and contemplating before finally settling on just gently putting one of his trembling hands on her shoulder as he wasted no time in asking: "___ what's wrong? are you hurt?"

as if it was embarrassed of her commitment to silence, her head moved on its own will in a light shake of "no."

"what happened?" he repeated in a much calmer voice.

"he- he ch-cheated on m-... again- he-" her body rocked, dancing along with each sob as she struggled to speak. and when he realised that he won'tve getting a proper answer, yoongi silently–and very delicately, as though she would break if he tugged any harder on her skin–grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the studio.

after closing the door and making her sit on the couch, he asked one more time, "what happened?"

his voice never lost that soft tone, she noted, and gulped down the lump that was stuck in her throat, and after some time stuttered with a shaky voice, "I'm so sorry to bother you. i just had such a bad day, and I kind of panicked so hard and ran up here."

"what about this," he pointed at her stained clothes and frowned, "and what did you say about cheating again?"

sniffling, she sighed and rested her hair against the back of the sofa, "found out that Jaehun cheated on me multiple times, and I had a coffee accident. I didn't know where to go, so..."

yoongi stared at her silently, part of him was relieved nothing that bad had occurred to her, the other, the slightly selfish one, had the corners of its lips twitching upwards when he heard that the man he's been dreading for the past few months turned put to be a complete asshole. it was embarrassing, yes, that's why he can never admit that he's still stuck on her, that he felt as though he'd lost a chunk of himself when he knew that she was with somebody new. but he also can't complain, not after everything that happened, not after breaking it apart.

"I'm sorry you always end up with assholes." was all he said.

and a simple "by the way, it's fine, you've always been welcome here" from him was all it took to break her shell. all the self restraint she'd been pulling, all the walls she'd been shielding herself with, it all went flat to the ground, and this time her vision blurred up with hot tears, easily spilling and racing down her cheeks in a matter of seconds. finally giving up the strings she'd been clutching on for dear life.

yoongi was caught off guard, but not surprised. he pursed his lips as he extended his arm to wrap it around her shoulder, pulling her closer to him and burying her face right where it belongs, his neck.

that terribly reminded him of all the sleepless nights after heavy, long days at work they spent cuddled up so close to each other. her crying as she spilled her heart's content to him, and him listening as he rubbed on her back and kissed her head.

seeing her again, one hair away from him after long months of distance and silent, guilty glances whenever they ran into each other in the building they both worked at, was the cherry on top that poisoned cake.

he tightly hugged her, whispering sweet nothings into her hair as he buried his nose into it. he used to like doing that, feeling the tickling of her strands on his nose and the scent he sipped on like a mad man.

after a long moment, her sobs thinned into hiccups, then soft sniffles, and she dried her face up with the long sleeves of her cardigan.

"feeling better?" why is his voice always so damn soft?

she nodded with a tiny hum, slowly raising her body to pull out of the hug.

when she glanced at him, oh boy, when she did glance at him, she was met with those pair of cat eyes, all wide with pure concern. so intense that she quickly averted hers as heat spread through her face and neck.

"I'm fine.." she whispered with a voice hoarse from all the crying.

"you reek of coffee." yoongi joked in an attempt to brighten the mood, smiling as he offered her a package of wet wipes.

"thanks." the woman's lips slowly pushed into a small pout, and she muttered, "I'm sorry for bothering you with my crying."

"don't worry about that, i kind of missed this anyway."

"you miss seeing me cry?" she mused.

"no, I just... it's been so long..."

neither of them said anything for a while, falling into some kind of silence. strangely, there was no awkwardness in it, just hundreds of heavily unspoken confessions and things hanging in the air, all mixed with burning yearning for one another.

"I missed you.." she whispered in a hushed tone, "I thought I would never get to talk to you again."

"i hope you're joking." he replied, "because I don't think you being serious would make it hurt any less."

"I'm sorry that we fought." she apologized.

"I'm sorry, I was an asshole too." yoongi licked his lips, a pinch of fear ached his heart all of a sudden, but he added anyway with a small voice, "do you... do you wanna meet up tomorrow? we could grab some dinner and just... talk."

"alright" she smiled.

"good. I'll call you in the morning, then. good?" yoongi felt as though his heart would jump out of his rib cage and run out of the studio from how overwhelming the whole situation was, if it weren't for her reassuring smile that made it all so much easier to handle.

"good." she replied.

"that was so easy...why didn't we do this earlier?" he covered his burning face with his hands and chuckled.

"we were just too dumb to think back then."

"yeah, we were." he nodded.

and for the first time ever since the pair cut all sorts of communication between each other, yoongi looked directly into her eyes with pure gratitude and smiled.

they ended up meeting up more often than they intended to, slowly patching up the abandoned wounds they once scarred into the body of their broken relationship.

one dinner birthed two and three more, surface-level chitchat of updates about each other's lives turned into deeper dives into the ups and downs, the wrongs and rights of everything they have shared between each other before. where everything shattered into pieces before their own eyes.

it all went slow and steady, like the first time they met a few years ago, like the very beginning of what they once had. it was scary, uncertain, and a sensitive area overall for the two, yet they were still willing to take that road again.

like a wicked witch, miscommunication casted a spell of pain, sourness, and yearning on the pair.

and now that their priorities have changed, maybe there's still a chance for them to break that spell and work it out again.

- fin..

[onlyswan]

summary: in which cruel fate leads you and jungkook to bright places.

> fluff, a little twinge of angst? / wc: 4.2k

> warnings: none really. but if you’ve read the grocery store drabble, you really get lost in this one. hehe

note: oc!!! stop making him worry like this. cries in i love sweet boy jungkook sooo much. + i enjoyed writing this :[ <3 listened to cigs after sex while i was at it. and as you can tell i got very. carried away. scratches head. researching about pokemon bread was also kind of fun?

—

love is selfless— it’s what they often say. however, on his way home from work, jungkook finds himself admitting his ugly truth: he is selfish. when he arrives at your shared space, he will tangle his limbs with yours and let you drag him across the floor to wherever it is you need to go. he will hold on to you, and never let go. he will abandon the concept of time at the farthest corner of his mind, along with his exhaustive musings and responsibilities. instead, he will be consumed by you.

and sometimes, he finds that the telepathy connecting the two of you is baffling.

because he’s definitely not thinking about anything else but you. he’s scouring the entire apartment for any trace of life, but you’re nowhere to be found. the bed is still made. the bathroom lights are off. the pillows on the couch are organized. the center table is spotless. the kitchen is clean. he opens the trash bin, and the last thing tossed in there is still the egg tray he discarded this morning. he checks the laundry room, but the only clothes of yours in the laundry basket are from yesterday.

he ends up deciding that you’re not playing hide-and-seek with him like he originally thought. he sits on the counter top, anxiously playing with his lipring as he calls your number. again. and again. and again.

you did tell him earlier that you were going to visit the library, but it already closed an hour ago, so you should be home by now. moreover, if you were going to drop by other places, you would’ve updated him that you’d be home later at night. but you didn’t. the last text you sent him was a captured photo of page 73, an overview about thyme. you reminded him that he once mentioned that he wanted to grow some herbs in your balcony, so you’re doing some old-fashioned research about them in the library.

and thank heavens you answer the call on his fifth try, because he’s about to have a breakdown in the middle of your kitchen.

“jungkook!”

not to be dramatic, but if he was standing, his knees would’ve collapsed on the tiled floor at the sound of your voice. he swallows the lump in his throat, breathes deeply to unload the weight sitting on his chest.

“where are you?”

“oh, right! about that-” you chuckle nervously, and he can already imagine you tapping your foot against the floor. “wait. let me just-”

“how long? i can’t wait. i miss you. tell me where you are and i’ll pick you up.” he hops off the counter, making a beeline to the front door.

“yes, pick me up. please. i’m not sure where i am exactly but i just checked and my location is still turned on with you.”

oh shit. the location feature. why didn’t he think of that? and what do you mean by-

he pauses on his tracks, car keys back in his hand not even twenty minutes since he got off his car. “baby, how do you not know where you are?”

“uhm, i fell asleep in the bus . . . then i panicked and got off because i thought i missed my stop. but you’re not gonna believe what happened next!”

he squeezes his eyes shut, fingers massaging his temple because he has a bad feeling about this. “okay. try me.”

“i realized i actually got on the wrong bus. stupid, right?” you giggle through the phone speaker, and it’s both endearing and ridiculous that you can still laugh in this situation.

nevermind that, he’s just relieved that you’re safe.

“i walked for a while and found this convenience store with a charging station. i emptied my battery trying to book a taxi but none accepted me!”

your whiny voice makes him smile, although he looked forward to hearing it more when he planned to be disgustingly clingy and affectionate.

“i’ll go, baby. just wait for me there, okay?” he presses the down button, waiting for the elevator to arrive.

“okaaay.” you reply in a sing-song voice.

he puts you on speaker mode when he enters, checking on your location to see how far you’ve strayed from home. you got on the wrong bus. no mistake about that.

“you’re an hour and three minutes away.”

he hears you choke out a cough from the other line, most probably on a drink. “an hour?! by foot, right?”

“no,” he chuckles. late night drives with you aren’t new, so he doesn’t mind it one bit. “by car.”

silence fills the air for a few seconds. “then i’ll drive on the way back. i’m about to eat ramyeon so i’ll be energized!”

“let’s see if i get too tired to drive. just stay on the phone for me, okay?”

“wait- i’m hungry. need to go put hot water in my noodles. let’s switch to video call.”

when he accepts the video call, he’s greeted by the candy and chocolate shelf in landscape view. you probably propped up your phone on the charging station, so he adjusts his phone’s position to match yours. and you . . . are nowhere to be found. again.

he’s already driving out on the road when you appear on his screen. you smile at him, waving the chopsticks in your hand.

“i’ll do a live mukbang for you in a few minutes.”

he takes a brief glance, memorizing the way you look before reverting his attention to the road. a small smile grows on his face, a huge wave of love flooding his system. “you look so pretty today.”

“thank you. it took me thirty minutes to pick out my outfit.” you chirp happily before revealing the hand hidden behind your back, holding up a special item you stumbled upon during your little adventure. “look what i found! do you want it?”

“what is it?” he asks as he makes a turn.

“team rocket’s pokemon bread. it’s chocolate.” you inspect the bread again to confirm that you’re correct. “it’s the last one on the shelf so i just bought it.”

his eyes widen in surprise, lips forming an ‘o’. he personally knows many people who have been visiting stores until the late hours to buy them. it’s all the rage nowadays.

“oh? you actually found one?!”

“don’t you think fate led me here for this?” you gush excitedly.

he finally stops at a red light, taking a good look at you with fondness. “you’re giving it to me?”

“yes. enjoy it, okay? i walked in boots for this.” you point at the camera threateningly.

so adorable. he misses you so much.

he obediently crosses his fingers to forge a promise. “i won’t leave a single crumb uneaten.”

“good boy,” you poke the camera as if you’re booping his nose. “i left my food too long. i’ll go get my overcooked ramyeon now.”

you disappear again, and he resumes his journey leading to you. you return moments later, devouring a cup of ramyeon. you’re holding it with some tissue paper. you were never really good with touching hot things— you drop them without thinking twice . . . which is a health hazard.

and it stays like that for a little while. as jungkook drives, he looks at you and the navigation guide every now and then. just to make sure he’s turning to the correct lefts and rights as the voice says; and to give himself the assurance that you didn’t stray somewhere else again. you, on the other hand, is too focused on your food to give your boyfriend a smidge of attention. that’s how mukbang asmr is, right? only eating sounds?

the cashier is probably thinking of you funny for eating infront of your boyfriend via video call in a public place. you couldn’t care less. it’s been a long day, and staying still in this small corner of the earth feels oddly comforting.

you’re in the middle of sipping down the leftover broth at the bottom of the cup when you hear movement from the aisle behind you. being nosy as you are, you find yourself taking a peek. you take quick and light steps back to jungkook to tell him about what you saw.

“babe, they’re restocking the pokemon breads. i’m the only person left here.” you whisper with one hand covering your mouth from the side, as if you’re sharing a secret. “i’ll buy more.”

he unconsciously copies the gesture and the volume of your voice. “do they have the other flavors too?”

“yes. keep driving safe. be right back.”

you dash to the other aisle, and jungkook and the long row of kitkats play a staring contest in the middle of traffic yet again.

familiar with your nature, it is entertaining to watch you participate in the pokemon bread hunt out of the blue. very on-brand and-

“so competitive.” he laughs to himself.

—

“hi!” you beam at the camera, hugging the paper bag inhabited by your new prized possessions. “uh, we have eight in total. i bought one of each flavor so there’s two team rocket now. and three jigglypuff bread just because- um-”

jungkook stifles his laughter. oh, of course you did.

“it’s so cute. i couldn’t help myself.” you sigh, slightly feeling guilty. other people do hoard them and buy everything off the shelf, so you think about that to feel less bad about taking all the jigglypuffs.

fuck. if you’re being this cute over a jigglypuff bread, he might just have to join everyone and do convenience store raids, too.

“you’re kind for still leaving some. i saw a person in the internet buy all the pokemon breads in the store they went to.”

“right?! i saw that, too.” you exclaim, relieved that you had the same thought as him.

“did you get me my pikachu, though?”

“of course. pikachu must always be present!” you answer proudly as you unplug your phone after seeing that it’s already at 50%. “i’m getting bored here. there’s a thrift shop just beside this, so i’ll go see if they’re still opened.”

jungkook drums his fingers on the steering wheel, following a beat he’s making up on the spot. “alright. i’m only fifteen minutes away, so don’t go anywhere else.”

”yes, sir.”

“and don’t end the call.”

“i won’t. you’ll miss me.”

he clicks his tongue before sighing, expressing his frustrating sorrow. “i already do.”

—

the air from outside is warmer, and it engulfs you the second you pull the door open. it makes your skin feel sticky and uncomfortable. the thought of going back inside enters your mind, but the idea gets shot down immediately after. might get tempted to buy more bread.

the thrift shop heavily contrasts the vivid conveniece store. there is no door. racks of pre-loved clothing greet you by the entrance, leading to more of them inside. a lone warm lightbulb illuminates the cramped space, hanging in the middle of the dirty white ceiling. and the smell. oh, the smell— it causes nostalgia to rush throughout your body.

a woman emerges from the wooden counter. she’s in her 50s, if you had the guess. you make eye-contact, and her kind eyes eases your uncertainty about whether you’re allowed to enter or not.

“you can still look around if you want. i’m just cleaning before i close up.”

“oh, thank you!” you politely bow before approaching the long rack of shirts and long-sleeves against the wall. you’ve been eyeing them since the moment you arrived.

left with no other choice, you leave the paper bag of pokemon breads on the floor, under one of the racks. you carefully lean your phone against a shoe on the shelf above it, just a little higher than your eye-level. you smile unbeknownst to yourself. your jungkook looks extra handsome when driving. while he admittedly has a short attention span, he’s very focused on the road when he’s behind the wheel.

you’re already browsing through the clothes when he glances at his phone. he can only see half your face, but he also hears your fast hands pushing back the hanger of the ones that don’t capture your interest.

your love for shopping doubled when you entered a relationship with jungkook, because purchasing items you think he like or need also brings you an unexplainable joy. it’s not limited to clothes or accessories. for example, you bought him white and blue acrylic paint two months ago because you noticed that he used them all up for a project.

after more or less ten minutes, there are already two t-shirts and one sweater hanging on your forearm. one of the t-shirt is yours. it matches with one of your trousers that you barely wear.

you’ve walked past the camera frame when you stumble upon a black bomber jacket, looking so cool and brand-new, which explains why it’s a bit on the pricier side. and you know jungkook has a lot of other black jackets back at home, but you just can’t help yourself because it reminds you so much of him.

it’s so jungkook. you can’t allow it to live in another person’s closet.

you approach the counter with the clothes you picked out. the woman halts her sweeping outside, leaving the broom against the wall before wiping her hands on her long skirt, the floral print noticeably faded with time. you hastily grab the belongings you left unattended, putting your phone’s microphone on mute to keep your little surprise.

there’s no paper bills left in your wallet after spending all your money on food and clothes. with a grimace, you drop it inside your bag. you were only supposed to go to the library today, spend a little money on bus fare and lunch. perhaps, spontaneously add in a little snack in between. however, this is called spontaneity out of hand.

“are these for your boyfriend’s birthday?” the woman asks in a hushed, yet teasing, voice as she folds up the jacket.

two pairs of eyes fall on the phone you’re holding, and you smile sheepishly. “i’m trying to make everyday his birthday.”

“he’s very handsome. you better take good care of him!”

you cover your face in embarrassment, silently laughing. “we take good care of each other! he’s coming to pick me up because i couldn’t find a taxi.”

“oh dear, are you new here?” she stuffs the jacket in the big plastic bag, along with the other clothes you bought. “there’s barely any taxis here after 9pm. everyone just walks. many complaints about it, but good exercise for my rusty bones when they ask me.”

“i’ll keep that in mind for next time.” you wrap your left arm around the bag of clothes, sliding it off the counter until you’re carrying its full weight. “thank you again. have a great night! and stay healthy!”

you stumble on the single step leading outside because the weight of the breads and clothes are unbalanced. thankfully, you make it out of the shop without a scratch. the woman bids you a safe trip and picks up the broom, the melancholia of night-time quietness blanketing her home once again.

you look down at your phone to find that the video call with jungkook has ended, but before you can question him, a familiar voice sings your name from a close distance.

“jungkook!” you call out to him, crossing the distance between you in high spirits. “you really came for me!”

jungkook shakes his head in disbelief. “you really thought i’d leave you here stranded? you always make me worried.”

“i never do it on purpose.” you frown, shoulders sagged with guilt.

“that makes it more worrisome.” he breathes out a sigh. “come here. i missed you.”

“i want to hug you, but my hands are full.”

he takes a step forward and wraps his arms around you, squeezing you in a tight embrace. he feels you give a chaste kiss to his jaw before leaning your cheek on his shoulder, and just like that, his anxiety melts away. your favorite perfume invades his sense of smell. as a person with a sensitive nose, many perfumes often give him a headache. he is in love with yours. it’s sweet and subtle; it feels like coming home.

“i was so excited to come home but you weren’t there.”

“i’m sorry for always making you worry. i’ll be more mindful next time.” you apologize to him with a kiss on the cheek, and you feel it rise against your lips when he smiles. “oh no, wait. the bread- they’re going to get all mushed up.”

he reluctantly untangles himself from you, taking away the heavy load you’re carrying without you having to ask. this is when you swiftly snatch the car keys from his hand.

“i want to drive this time.”

he breathes out a sigh of relief. “oh my god, thank you. i’m getting sleepy.”

—

it’s impossible not to quickly look over to the passenger seat when a bright flash fills the vehicle. surprise, surprise! instead of sleeping, jungkook is taking pictures of the packs of pokemon bread he eagerly arranged on his lap.

“that flash is brighter than the sun.”

he throws a thumbs-up with an overly enthusiastic voice. “samsung!”

you swear, every chance he gets he promotes thei-

“don’t you dare steal my jigglypuff.”

he raises his arms in surrender, making balloons with his cheeks. “i just didn’t know they were strawberry flavored. i’m tasting team rocket’s chocolate rolls first. namjoon-hyung likes it.”

he carefully tears it from the other side to keep team rocket’s image unharmed. he takes a bite from the choco roll, and feeds the remaining half to you.

“mhmmm.” he hums, eyebrows furrowed in sheer delight. “it’s so good? i’m glad you bought another.”

he divides another roll in the middle. he munches on his share as he waits for you to finish your first bite. while he does as such, he suddenly perks up when he remembers the story he was supposed to tell you.

“i saw a group of guys enter the convenience store when i arrived earlier. they were looking for pokemon bread, too.”

“how’d you know?”

“i heard one of them say ‘this one better have the gastly bread or i will cry.’” he imitates the stranger’s deep voice speaking in a whiny manner. “it was funny.”

“then he’s probably on his way home crying now.” your giggles create a harmony.

that store did not have gastly bread, unfortunately.

—

“moment of truth.”

jungkook locates the pokemon sticker after you finish the rest of the bread. you wait with bated breath as he unveils the first out of eight stickers.

he gasps as he comes face-to-face with- “it’s snorlax! number 143 . . . 143.” he freezes as he scans his memory for the special meaning of the number code. “doesn’t that mean ‘i love you’?”

“it does,” you confirm with a grin. “i told you it was fate! isn’t it the best love confession?”

while living with you is a type of intimacy he values greatly, and protects everyday, getting lost in unfamiliar places with you has a charm of its own. it’s one of the days when he allows himself to say: jungkook, you lived well today.

he presses the sticker on your cheek, giving you a kiss through snorlax. “i love you, too.”

—

“since we can’t finish all these bread tonight, we’ll open the rest tomorrow.” jungkook announces as he sets down the plastic bag on the floor. in the meantime, snorlax is kept in his wallet for safety purposes.

he carries the clothes to his lap next, curious eyes and curious hands taking out the items one by one. he squeaks a sound of amazement. “you found quite a lot in that shop.”

“they had a lot of good stuff. i got the dark green-ish shirt. the rest are for you.”

he holds the baby blue sweater by the shoulders, letting the rest of it unfold and hang suspended in the air. “this one is so pretty.”

“oh! i really like that one. might borrow it a lot.”

“you’d look pretty in it. especially in the winter.” he says fondly. the mental image of you wearing it surrounded by snow is making him miss the season that just passed.

you pout. “but i got it for you. so wear it more than me.”

“i will. i want to wear it to work right after laundry day.” you beam in contentment, and he pats your head appreciatively. “you’re so fucking cute, baby. thank you for buying it for me.”

the black jacket catches his attention next, and the galaxies in his eyes sparkle as he takes in its the details and overall appearance. “this is totally my style! how does it look so brand-new?”

“right? it’s a steal so i had to buy it!”

jungkook chews on his bottom lip, a conscious effort to restrain himself from attacking you with hugs and kisses. buying treats and gifts for each other on random days— it’s grown to be a second nature in your relationship. this is why you always go on trips on birthdays and anniversaries instead of buying big gifts. he loves that there’s no pressure, and the element of surprise never fades. he loves that he knows what you like, and you know what he likes. a huge part of what makes him who he is has permanently resided in who you are, and vice versa. he will carry you with him for the rest of his life, just like the food he learned to love because his childhood friend forced him to have a bite, and how he adds a bar on top of the letter J because it reminds him of the number 7.

so from now on, he will refuse to wear any other jacket but the one you bought him, and he will think of you every time the sky is baby blue.

“i think this is going to be one of those clothes i’d wear all the time. like the first sneakers you got me.”

“oh god,” you chuckle at the old memory. if people didn’t know he was rich, they would’ve thought he only had one pair of shoes. “you really wore those out.”

“that’s how much i loved it!”

“okay, but you need to wash it before wearing it.”

“i’ll wake up earlier to do laundry.” he starts planning out his day inside his head as he folds up the clothes to put back inside the bag. but then he traces his thoughts two hours backwards, and he is reminded physical affection he’s been craving the whole day.

“can we cuddle when we get home?”

“of course, my love.” you raise an eyebrow in question. “when do we not cuddle?”

“i just missed you a lot today.” he sighs, turning over to his side to look at you. perhaps, also to memorize the street lights reflecting on your face, and how your beige cardigan has slipped down your shoulder. oh, the urge to write a song at this magical moment.

“what’s wrong? did anything bad happen today?” pure concern adorns your voice. you hate it when he’s sad. so much. you want to shield him from everything bad in the world.

“nothing.” his face starts to feel flushed, one of the dead giveaways that he’s emotional. “i just love you, that’s all. you get it, right?”

you have never been more grateful to meet a light that just turned red.

you solely focus on him momentarily, combing his hair with your fingers because it always helps him to relax. “feeling a little overwhelmed, is that it?”

he only nods as a reply. he catches your hand in his to give your knuckles a kiss, plushy lips caressing the tough bones of your doting hand.

“we’re almost home. wanna cuddle in the bathtub?” you propose when you recognize the familiar scenery through his window. the promising comfort and safety of your home causes exhaustion to come crashing down on you. your muscles are suffering the consequences of your actions, and therefore, are asking for compensation.

jungkook seems to be relishing in the idea, doe eyes sparkling instead of shining with unshed tears. “please, that sounds nice. but i’m sorry for when i fall asleep in there.”

—

you laugh nervously as you enter your parking lot. you do have your license, but you don’t drive very often. maybe three times a month at most. you find driving to be energy consuming despite being seated, so you much prefer commuting because it also serves as your rest time before and after attending to your duties.

“i need to reverse park before we can get into the bathtub, so you have to help me.”

and yes, additionally, you just simply hate reverse parking with burning passion.

“why do you hate reverse parking so much?” your boyfriend asks out of curiosity.

good question.

“i know we have cameras now, but i’m still always scared of bumping into other cars.”

he flashes you his old-fashioned captivating smirk, resting his hand behind the driver’s seat. what makes it funnier is that you’re not even looking. you’re too preoccupied with finding your parking space.

he raises his eyebrows teasingly, doe eyes turning into small slits as they do when he’s playfully flirting. “you don’t have to be scared of such thing, baby. i’ll pay for the damages.”

“you’re jinxing it! i’ll definitely mess up that ferrari now!”

—

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[ghastigiggles]

danse macabre

so uh. uhm. hi. i kept forgetting to post this and i feel really bad about it. i'm so sorry tadc nation here's some food for you

npc oc because i didnt feel comfortable writing anyone as a ler - not yet, anyway. but pomni needed to get wrecked so bad. she's so cute. i get cuteness aggression every time she's on screen

usual disclaimer; sfw tickling fic, very soft and fluffy, even a little goofy and silly.

"Given that our last adventure took an exciting turn, I thought doing a rerun would be a better idea today!"

A rippling groan passed through the veteran players that Caine seemed to entirely ignore, turning his attention to Pomni with an exaggerated movement.

"Something a little more calm, I'd say! Should help bring you down from any thoughts of the Void from the other day!"

"Ahh… I don't –"

"You'll love it," He interrupted, swooping back into the air with an extravagant gesture; "It's a fan favourite! Everyone knows it, everyone loves it, it's… 'Where in the World is Sir Wigglesburg?'!"

Pomni, of course, didn't miss the way everyone else in the room tensed up – though she didn't catch the way Gangle actually perked instead, immediately shooting sideways glances at everyone else before poorly mirroring their tension. 

"... You're kiddin'," Jax muttered, his eyes narrowing in annoyance. Caine simply continued as though he didn't hear the rabbit while Bubble floated nearby with an empty look in her eyes.

"Sir Wigglesburg is one of our most esteemed citizens –"

"Not an actual player," Ragatha helpfully cut in with a glance to Pomni, trying to give her context.

" – with a terrible habit of wandering off! His dear wife has, once again, asked us – rather, you – to lend a helping hand and bring him home safe! The first to lead Sir Wigglesburg back to the stage shall win a prize! (To be determined, prize may or may not meet or exceed expectations.) Good luck!"

And, with no further context or instruction, their ringmaster and his companion entirely disappeared. There was a brief silence before Zooble grunted, already walking away.

"... Right. I'm going back to my room, then."

"Aww, somebody too chicken to help the poor guy?"

Jax sneered in their direction, and they shot him a searing glare; "Well, if you want a repeat of last time, be my guest. I don't."

"I will also take my leave," Kinger muttered in a hurried fashion, looking askance; "The last time we did this, it was before… Mngh…"

Ragatha offered him a sympathetic smile, nodding as the other two softened just slightly. 

"It's alright, Kinger. We understand."

"Thank you… If you do take on the quest, give Sir my best." 

With that, both Zooble and Kinger headed towards the living quarters, leaving Pomni to finally pipe up again, looking between Ragatha and Jax.

"... So, um… W-what's so upsetting about the rerun, anyway? Is it, um, bad…?"

"Oh – no, not – not per se," The ragdoll replied quickly, tapping her chin; "I mean, Caine wasn't lying… This is one of the calmer adventures."

"Yeah. You should do it, newbie."

Both sets of eyes snapped to Jax, who simply grinned passively. Ragatha squinted.

"... And I don't suppose you'd be coming along?"

"I will, actually. Could be funny. What about you, Rags?"

Though she grimaced, Ragatha sighed in resignation, turning a little to give Pomni a small smile.

"Well, I'm not gonna let her go it alone… Again."

That much, at least, gave Pomni heart, and she almost smiled back – until she realized one of their party wasn't accounted for, and her brow furrowed.

"Uh… Where's Gangle?"

The other two also seemed to only just notice Gangle's absence, and the three of them glanced around briefly before their search was cut short by a distant shriek from the player in question.

"That sounded like her…!"

"Is she getting hurt?! W-what if someone else abstracted?!" Pomni shot them a panicked glance; "Sh-should we –"

"Let's go investigate before anything else," Jax interrupted calmly, barely keeping the amusement from his face as he gestured for Pomni to take the lead. When Ragatha shot him a glare, he simply shrugged, following after her with the ragdoll shortly behind.

They had little more than a vague direction, down a corridor and two left turns that seemed to dim the further along they went; Gangle made no further sounds, giving them little in the way of direction, and eventually Pomni sighed haplessly, squinting into the darkness.

"... It's no use… Should – should we go find Caine again…?"

She was met with silence, and turned around – only to find Ragatha and Jax were nowhere to be seen, and her stomach dropped with dread.

"... Guys…?"

"Ooh? Who is this…? A face I've yet to see and greet?"

At a new voice, Pomni yelped, whipping around – and coming face-to-face with what appeared to be some kind of massive, cartoonish caterpillar. His body appeared to be covered in green fur, disappearing into the darkness past his neck – or so Pomni assumed at first glance, anyway. His face and what could only be described as underbelly were covered in white fur that parted around his features, such as a long purple nose and big black eyes – one of which sported a golden monocle. And, of course, his hands had the same cartoon glove sort of thing that Kinger had going on, though this time with black noodle arms seemingly attached.

In her shock, she entirely lost her voice, merely stammering wordlessly – and earning a chuckle from the caterpillar looming over her. 

"Such a small thing, you are! 'Tis a pleasure, indeed!" 

Smiling, he extended one of his hands for a shake, a gesture that finally managed to pull Pomni from her stupor.

"I am Sir Wigglesburg! And you, my gentile jester, would be…?"

"A-ahhh…" Though hesitant, she extended her own hand, despite it being barely half the size of his own, "P-Pomni – woah –!"

The moment their palms yet, Wigglesburg pulled her closer, twirling her around so suddenly that her eyes spun in alternating directions – and as she was steadied again, pulled along by his sudden movements, she was abruptly made aware of his overwhelming amount of hands, with a second dominant one taking her free hand to hold her steady while two more settled on her back and hip, respectively.

"Pomni, Pomni! A wondrously adorable and charming name! Please, indulge me with a dance – 'tis a formal greeting between my people!"

"I – I'm actually – ah!"

The hand on her hip pinched her side unexpectedly, making her jerk in an attempt to escape – yet Wigglesburg easily moved with her reflexive maneuver like it was a step in her dance.  

"I'm actually – ehh! – l-looking for s – hey! – some – sohome –"

The hand squeezed again, and again, and again; and every time, she tried to sidestep or wiggle away – and every time, it just encouraged their "dance", with Wigglesburg's gentle but firm grip keeping her upright despite the giggles bubbling in her chest and the involuntary smile that had been pulling at her lips. 

"My dear Pomni," Wigglesburg crooned as though she wasn't struggling to articulate a sentence; "You are a wonderful dancer!"

" – Ghhh, thank you…? But I – ah!! – would you plehease –"

She squeaked again as she was suddenly pulled into a dip, very nearly panicking before she realized Wigglesburg was still supporting her gently. His wide smile was kind and sweet, but undercut by the mischief in his eyes as he looked down at her.

"... That said, you are giggling quite a lot! I didn't think dancing with a wyrm would be that much fun for you!"

"I-It's not the dancing – GyaAH –"

"Is it not?" 

Pomni couldn't manage a reply, stuck in a fit of uncontrollable giggles caused by the fingers wiggling at both sides, forcing her to squirm back and forth with no true escape from the unexpected and overwhelming sensation. Wigglesburg hummed, tilting his head with an adoring expression.

"I say, I was under the impression that it was the jester who caused nobles to laugh, not the other way around! Yet, here you are, practically beside yourself…"

For a mercy, he did release her hands, and she immediately brought her arms in – not that they did much, proportionately, to protect her. 

"Aheheh, I can't – I cahahan't –"

"Oh, my poor dear, does it tickle? Are we feeling a little sensitive?"

She hiccuped through her laughter at that, shaking her head and ducking down; it felt like the teasing sent a shot through her nerves, which only made it worse when he started scratching experimentally at her ribs, prompting a few snorts to escape her as well.

"Ngh – nahahaa, not th - thehehere…!"

"What? Here? Or here – oh, dear me."

His hands shot to Pomni's underarms for just a few seconds, but it was enough to prompt a shriek from her, wriggling and kicking fruitlessly with even more vigour than before.

"NnnoOHOHO – gh – $%^@# – I cahAAHAAN'T –!"

"Yes, I can see that! 'Twould seem that 'tis an especially sensitive spot."

"Plhehe – PLEHEEHEEHEASE!"

She threw back her head with a loud cackle as Wigglesburg doubled down, every stroke of his fingers sending shocks down her arms and through her body – but she only had to endure it a moment longer before he finally laid off, lightly massaging her sides with his thumbs as she gasped for breath – an act that was more instinctual than actually necessary, given that breathing wasn't really a thing anymore – with a goofy, natural smile still stuck on her face.

"I do hope you can forgive my zeal in tormenting you," Wigglesburg offered after a moment, smiling apologetically; "I cannot help myself around the players."

"I – it's… Haah…" With a final breath, Pomni shook out the residual giggles, looking back up at Wigglesburg; "It's alright…"

"Oh, I figured! You never once asked me to stop, after all."

She stiffened at that, her eyes widening as she searched her memory – because, surely not… And yet, he was right.

She had no idea if the digital avatar could blush, but with how hot her face felt upon that realization, she really, really hoped it couldn't.

"But enough of that – you were searching for someone, yes?"

"Uh! Um. Y-yeah. You, actually, but also – Gangle, if you've seen her…"

"Oh! My dear Gangle has been here all along!"

Pomni blinked dumbly, and Wigglesburg chuckled, curling in on himself and cradling her close as his spine arched up to where she could see clearly – and, sure enough, Gangle was splayed out in the wyrm's green fur, seeming a little sleepy and out of it… Yet, content, even as she looked up and waved at Pomni.

"But… Her scream…"

"'Twas a scream of joy and laughter," Wigglesburg assured her; "Gangle is one of my favorite dancing partners – and I, hers! I admit, I went overboard this time, though… It has been too long since the last time."

"Oh."

A lot of things made sense, now. The way everyone had seemed tense and awkward when Wigglesburg's name came up; Gangle's quiet disappearance in the wake of the adventure's start. The little comments everyone was making towards each other… 

"Pomni! Are you alright?!"

Ragatha's voice pulled Pomni from her thoughts, and she looked down to see the ragdoll standing below, looking up with faint relief… And heavy amusement. Shortly behind her stood Jax, smug as ever – yet, notably, keeping a good generous distance between himself and the wyrm.

"Uh. Yeah," Pomni replied; "I found Gangle? And… And Sir Wigglesburg."

"We know. We heard you," Jax chuckled, easily side-stepping to avoid a tiny kick from Ragatha. For her part, the doll smiled.

"That's great! Let's head back to the stage and wrap up this adventure, then!"

Sir Wigglesburg, however, pouted a little, looking down at her.

"Oh, are you sure I can't convince you to share just one dance with me…?"

"Ahh… Maybe next time?"

Ragatha offered him a nervous smile, and Wigglesburg sighed dramatically – but he didn't object, simply setting Pomni on his back near Gangle before he began to crawl along on the path back to the stage. Distantly, Jax grumbled about not being offered a ride as he and Ragatha followed on foot.

In the softness of his fur, Pomni felt a tempting urge to "nod off", partially encouraged by the dance she'd just been through – but Gangle's voice, just barely loud enough to be heard – kept her in the waking world.

"... I'm glad you like his game. I've been the only one for awhile… Knowing someone else likes it makes me feel less weird."

And, with a small nod in response, Pomni hid her smile in the wyrm's fur.

Maybe not every part of the digital circus was terrible or terrifying.

[spacebobastories]

Something Real

Chapter 1 - Wake Up

Summary: Louis didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Sure, he *knew* but didn’t think it would be that bad. Boy, how wrong he was. Everything hurts now…and what’s with these people wanting to take him in? What happened? Pairing: Poly 141 x OC

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, I'm not a military expert so there will be inaccuracies, some panicked flashbacks from Louis, mentions of experiments.

Author's Note: I reeealllllyyy wanted to start writing again. So, Call Of Duty is one of my fascinations right now. I also have been reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood by Soaps-mohawk which you should check out because their story is freaking amazing! I have gotten inspired to write again because of them and their amazing work!

Next Chapter

When Louis was a boy, he always dreamed of being a soldier, a doctor, hell even an astronaut. Anything so he wouldn't just be an Omega.

"Stop! It burns!!"

He never wanted to be an omega. Never wanted to just be something to bring children into the world and nothing else. It was depressing to be born an omega. You're treated like some kind of birthing machine. Always lusted after by Alphas who don't treat you right. Always looked down at because of the status you're born. Oh how he hated the looks he got as a child, those lingering looks from Alphas. It made his skin crawl.

"He's flat lining! We need a defibrillator shock now!"

Growing up, it got worse. He couldn't do certain things, couldn't go anywhere without someone telling him he couldn't do it or go there. Alphas breathing down his neck, always crowding him...always touching.

"Louis, I know it hurts. But it will be for the good of the country."

Well, he proved them all wrong by joining the military. Something that an Omega should never do. Or in his case, they weren't allowed to. He fought tooth and nail to become a soldier, to claw his way up the ranks. His parents were proud of him. Proud that an Omega and a person of color could do what he did. Oh how he was hated by Alphas because he wouldn't roll over for them. Even in his heat, he wouldn't go to them. But he was also loved by many, even something to look up to. But then, there was a new project that opened up. The Shadow Project. The name of the project was obvious to the man. Make the subject a shadow so enemies can't spot you.

It would make the perfect soldier. The perfect killing machine to help in the wars over seas and on missions. He didn't have to do it. Didn't have to volunteer. But he wanted to. He needed to prove a point. If he could, he would have gone back in time and slapped his past self. What an idiot.

Louis didn't want this anymore. He didn't want to be in pain, the burning sensation of chemicals going through his veins. The feeling of his body breaking down and regenerating. It was mind numbingly painful. He hated it. He hated what his country was turning him into. He saw what the others had turned into. Monsters. Misshapen things that were once human. Their bodies mangled, skin an entirely different color, faces warped into something horrific.

Louis hoped he didn't turn into that, hoped that his body didn't morph into something monstrous. But with the chemicals that were pumped into his body and the pain he felt, he wished he did. He wished he did turn into that monster so he could die and be done with the pain. The was his body tore itself apart and came back together was excruciating. But, as time went on, as the months passed by, maybe even years, he learned to get used to the pain. He learned to push it down, deep down in the back of his head. He learned to be numb.

His lungs were constantly breaking down and regenerating, to the point it was hard for him to breath. They made him a special gas mask that used his own smoke- the way his body broke down looked like smoke- to have him breath properly. It didn't stop the way his lungs kept dying inside of him, but, it at least made it easier to breath. He didn't know a lot about The Shadow Project but he wished he had asked questions because he didn't know that they were going to make him into a literal shadow. A wraith if you want to be more specific. He didn't know how they did it. He didn't know what type of chemicals and cybernetics they put into his body. He should have cared, should have been worried. But, at this point, he just wanted it to end. He wanted it all to end.

He remembered walking down the long hall to one of the testing chambers, eyes dull and staring straight ahead. He had two soldiers on either side of him, Alphas he thinks. He was supposed to test out his shadow step to see if there needed to be improvements done. But the alarms started blaring and he heard the scientists yelling. He saw some running back and forth in the hall ahead of him. There was a large explosion that shook the place, making Louis and the guards stumble in place.

"What the hell is going on?!" He rasped out, voice muffled by the gas mask.

The explosion was muffled and sounded like it was coming from above. Soon, there were more explosions and the head scientist's voice came on "Everyone! Get to the bomb shelters! Get the experiments into the cryo pods! Quickly!"

It was all a blur as Louis was suddenly dragged down the many hall ways of the facility. The alarms were still blaring as Louis got dragged into the main Cryo Chamber room, scientists were quickly putting the 'perfect' subjects into the cryo pod. But he was put into the main one, at the end of the room. Like he would be watching over the others. The head scientist was standing in front of Louis as he was placed in the cryo pod.

"Everything will be okay. You will wake up soon and fight for this country."

Louis didn't fight back, glad this was happening so he wouldn't go through with the experiments. The thick glass door began to slowly close. The explosions became more intense, some rubble was beginning to fall from, the ceilings and yet the alarms kept going on. It seemed they were getting louder and louder. But the door finally closed with a hiss, everything was muffled. Hardly any sound was heard coming through. Only the blaring of the alarm could still be heard.

"The freezing process will start in 3..."

Louis felt his breathing begin to pick up, the wheezing and rasping of his breathing echoed loudly in the pod.

"2."

He saw the edges of the door begin to freeze over, the crystalized ice spiderwebbing across the glass. His body, which was was always so hot, began to cool down. He felt himself become cold. The temperature began to slowly drop.

And as the countdown came to an end, Louis closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He would be able to sleep without pain.

"1."

"The cryo pod will be opening in 3...2...1..."

The pod door hissed loudly, freezing cold carbon dioxide smoke creeped out of the bottom as the door began to slowly open.

"Please stand back."

Louis' eyes slowly fluttered open and he took a raspy breath, breathing in deeply. Louis fell forward and his body naturally turned into a thick cloud of bitch black smoke.

"Holy shit, L.T. You see what I'm seein'?"

His smoke felt hot to the touch and he groaned gently in discomfort as his body quickly formed back on the floor. Louis was on his hands and knees on the floor, panting softly. But with the gas mask he had on, it sounded like he was taking labored breaths.

"We have eyes on the target, Captain." Louis twitched lightly as he was finally becoming aware of his surroundings and heard people talking. He blinked his eyes a few times and with some effort, lifted his head from the floor. His eyes saw four pairs of feet standing in front of him, the glow from the pod making it easier to see. He blinked slowly as he mode his gaze up their bodies, seeing that they were men. One had a mohawk, tan skin with facial hair and beautiful blue eyes. They were wide with concern and awe. Louis looked at the other man and was surprised to see a skull looking back at him. But his brain was still foggy so he eventually realized that it wasn't an actual skull, but a mask.

Louis couldn't see any skin from him, he was fully covered up. From what Louis could see, the man in the skull mask had some kind of black paint around his eyes, making his blue eyes stand out more. Both men were large, but the one in the Ghost mask was massive and if Louis wasn't still out of it, he was be a little intimidated.

"Can you stand?" The one with the mohawk spoke and he had an odd accent. Sounding like Scottish. Louis glanced over at the man before slowly sitting back on his knees. "What...year is it?" He managed to get out, wincing as he cleared his throat, his lungs were dying and regenerating. It felt like he was breathing in shards of glass each second.

The one with the mohawk blinked in surprise "3055." Louis looked at the man in shock.

"W-what?" He rasped out and the one with the mohawk shifted in place, reaching up to rub a hand on his neck.

*That means I was in there for 33 years....!* He thought in shock as he breathed in sharply only to go into a coughing fit and hunched over on the floor. He heard shuffling before one of the guys kneeled down, placing a hand on Louis's back. Louis quickly reached up to take off his mask, still coughing and hacked up a glob of blood and a piece of his lung. He groaned in disgust as he took in deep breaths, feeling the hand slowly rubbing up and down his back.

"Fuck." He breathed out as he leaned back on his knees, letting his head fall back. His eyes were unfocused as he was still trying to come out of his stupor. He took a few more wheezing breaths and placed his mask back on, taking deep breaths of his own smoke. It helped a little with the pain.

"We need to go. Soap, carry him out of here." The skull man's voice was deep yet muffled by his mask and Soap, who was still kneeling beside Louis, nodded his head.

"Let's get you out of here." He muttered as he reached over to help Louis up and the redhead let him. He was tired and basically melted in the man's arms as he was carried out. As they moved down the halls, Louis could see that the once bright and clean facility was dark and dirty. There were cracks in the walls, rubble on the floor and he swore he saw a skeleton's hand underneath the caved in roof.

The two men were quiet as they moved down the halls and Louis couldn't help but relax in Soap's arms. It felt...nice to be carried. It felt nice to finally be awake again. But he knew the feeling wouldn't last long. The feeling of peace that he felt. His body was still waking up and once it was fully awake. He would be in constant pain. But for now, he enjoyed the peace.

[dw-squirrel]

Just throwing this out there. It was in my notes and has been for a few years and I have yet to actually write it. So if by some chance someone wants to write it or knows a story like this. PLEASE GO FOR IT AND SEND ME A LINK 😭

Fandom: Supernatural

Characters: Dean, Sam, Benny, Cas, OC's and other canon characters welcome.

Ships: Dean/Benny, Destiel, Destiel + Benny whatever floats your boat. Just no wincest.

Plot:

Set in the correct universe, but not entirely canon? In the sense that everything is somewhat normal. But Benny isn't dead. He came back from purgatory with Sam.

Sam still isn't a big fan of Benny, so Dean doesn't talk to him a lot. But he tries to find a balance between keeping Sam happy and also being there for his friend who is clearly struggling with life here.

Dean was out by himself one night and stumbles upon a case. He tells Sam he'll be home later. Doesn't tell him that he's hunting, he makes up some lie. He and Sam were probably fighting earlier. He'd rather be by himself than deal with Sam right now 😭

Well, Dean doesn't show up later that night. It's been hours and Sam is panicking.

Dean wakes up the next morning with very little memory of what happened. All he knows is he was hunting a vampire...and he woke up covered in blood, his stomach hurts he's so fuckin hungry...and he's terrified because he's sensitive to light and can hear things so much better. Better than he'd like, he can hear someone's heart beating, blood pumping from a mile away...he knows one thing for sure is he was turned last night...

But he doesn't know if he can be cured, cuz he doesn't remember if he killed someone/ate someone or drank blood or anything...

He was going to call Sam, but he's kinda embarrassed. He wants to just kill himself now... especially when he finds a dead body nearby and they were clearly attacked by a vampire.

Dean kills the vamp that turned him... but not in time before they force blood down his throat... there's no going back...

He calls Benny first. Not Sam. Benny was in the area, he was supposed to be visiting him anyway...and when Benny finds out...he makes it his top priority to take care of Dean. He says Dean doesn't have to die. They can work with this... but Dean doesn't *want* to do this. So now Benny is trying every thing he can to convince Dean he doesn't have to die... but they might end up both dying just to live in purgatory forever 😬😬

Sam doesn't find out for like a few weeks and he's obviously losing his shit. Because I just can't imagine Sam genuinely being chill about this. Sam would be looking for his brother. Eventually he finds him and he's upset that Dean's just been out with Benny.

Bonus points if the only reason Sam found out Dean was a vamp is cuz Benny told him.

If no one writes this, then maybe I will eventually get around to it. Thanks for reading. Sorry the idea is so long. I needed to add more detail otherwise it's too vague and might not get what I want exactly.

[sincerely-sofie]

Twig is my response to replaying PMD2 for the nth time and getting upset with how dry the Hero feels in comparison to the other characters! I’m really enjoying how she’s turning out, so I thought I’d share a little bit about my blorbo OC in case anyone reading my silly little comics is interested.

She’s a charmander— the reason for this is less because that’s what an internet quiz told me the personality I wanted for her would be, and more because the thought of “haha what if the leaf lizard’s bestie turned into fire lizard” grabbed me by the throat and would not release me until I declared it to be official.

The flame at the end of her tail is supposed to resemble a maple leaf in autumn as an additional nod to her grass-type buddies.

She nicknamed her partner, a mudkip, Kip. Kip the mudkip. She panicked and now she’s stuck calling him this because he absolutely loves it.

(Kip had a huge crush on her throughout their entire apprenticeship at the guild. She has no inkling that this was ever a thing. Grovyle's unable to believe someone would ever like him in a romantic way and Twig is no different.)

The gal's just a horrible little shambling mess of neuroses exclusively kept intact by the fear of submitting to the mortifying ordeal of being known.

She’s 12-ish by the first chapter of the game and is just barely entering her 20s by the end of the post-game.

While she doesn't realize this thanks to her amnesia, Grovyle grew up way too fast in order to keep her alive, and she felt awful about this in the Dark Future. She tried to be as helpful as possible to take the burden off of his shoulders— or at least as helpful as an eight-year-old could be to a teenage magical gecko. Seven years later, by the start of the game, neither of them had an actual childhood despite both of their efforts to provide that for the other.

As a result of the previous bullet point, despite not being cognizant of the reasoning behind it, Twig has a thing about being a burden. She is convinced she is an awful burden on everyone at all times, and she is constantly scrambling to be sufficiently valuable in order to cancel out this burdensomeness— and she does this without ever even considering the idea that she could be a positive presence. She can only be neutral at best and negative at worst— in her eyes, at least.

(Are there therapists in Treasure Town? Asking for a friend)

Grovyle named her Twig! She had a human name at one point, but she never told it to Grovyle after running away from the hidden bunker of humans she once called home. With all her memories of her past erased, including those of her original name, it’s lost to time.

She's almost completely unable to read at the start of the game, and is only able to recognize a handful of footprint runes: Time, Avoid, Future, Past, Travel, Passage, Gear, Twig, Grovyle, and Celebi. She's weirded out by being able to read the name on Grovyle's wanted poster and ferret out that he’s wanted for stealing time gears without help.

(She learned these by trying to read the plans that Grovyle and Celebi would write in the dirt as they navigated the Dark Future and plotted out their rebellion.)

She jokingly stanned Grovyle before Dusknoir's true colors were revealed as a way to teasingly bug Kip, who didn't think it was funny to stan a criminal, even ironically. After chapter 16 and beyond it is no longer remotely ironic.

After the events of the post-game, Kip gets a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to pursue his childhood dream of being a cartographer. Twig encouraged him to jump on the opportunity, even if it meant them being apart for a time, and he reluctantly set off on a years-long expedition without her. They miss each other dearly, but they have become the ultimate pen pals and they’re keeping their local post offices in business with their individual correspondence alone.

Twig gets a bee in her bonnet one day about evolving and storms off to Luminous Spring to get it done. For some reason— perhaps a lingering distortion of time or space clinging to her��� her evolution into a charmeleon is incomplete. She grew a little taller, lost some baby fat, and has a bit of a nubby lil horn, but she hasn’t got the height or coloring of a typical charmeleon. In addition to this, all your scars are meant to vanish along with your old form when you evolve, but one in particular on her right arm remained unchanged. The scar doesn’t bother her, but it does weird her out that it didn’t go away. She doesn’t even remember where she got it, so it’s not like it's special or anything… right? It kind of looks like a handprint. Weird.

She ends up getting a house in a place called Verdant Village just north of Treasure Town and doing odd jobs to keep the money coming in— she doesn’t take many exploration gigs because it’s not the same without Kip— and makes herself a nice life there.

(She has a family consisting of a gallade, gardevoir, and little ralts kid as next-door neighbors. The gardevoir could smell Twig’s rancid shambling-mess-of-neuroses vibes from a mile away and has made it a point to regularly try to get her to open up. Twig will absolutely not open up because she doesn’t know how to go about explaining her problems when they're centered around how she’s a former human originating from an alternate future that no longer exists, and that she spent a while being antagonized by the god of nightmares before he was blasted into the ether by the ruler of space and promptly disappeared, never to be seen again. There’s a lot to unpack there and she honestly would rather throw out the whole suitcase than deal with it.)

She was feeling nostalgic one day and decided to go crawl the mystery dungeon at Mount Travail, where she encounters an amnesiac Darkrai hiding in the bushes to avoid the fighting types prevalent in the area. After very awkwardly attempting to threaten him despite the increasing urge to just turn tail and run, it became clear to Twig that he remembered nothing but his name, and he didn't seem all that intent on world domination anymore. She couldn’t help but be suspicious of him regardless, but disguises her wariness as concern and gives him a place to stay at her house so that she can ensure he doesn't remember who he was and what his goals were before his memory was erased.

Thus begins the "And They Were Roommates" arc of Twig's life, where the plot swings rapidly back and forth between her comically desperate efforts to keep the origin of 82.9% of her mental illnesses from learning anything about his past, feign normalcy to bystanders when she goes to the market with a being of myths and legends trailing after her, and keep The Bad Thoughts from taking over while also trying to figure out how to explain to her friends what she's been up to for the past few months.

Shenanigans ensue. Friendships are tested and strengthened. Long-avoided conversations are had. Twig is, mortifyingly, understood. Healing is found and time keeps marching on.

(Also Darkrai ends up nicknamed Ark for similar reasons to Kip being nicknamed Kip. Thought I'd just sneak that in here.)

[xalygatorx]

Unbound | Chapter 20, "Oathbreaker"

Áine Ts'sambra—a wayward half-drow bard with a painful past—has her world upended when she's snatched up by a Nautiloid ship and furnished with a tadpole to the brain. In her journey to remove the infestation before it can turn her and her newfound companions illithid, she not only finds that their solution has more layers to parse through than she can count, but that a particular vampire in her party does as well.

Unbound is an ongoing generally SFW medium-burn romance based in the world of Baldur's Gate 3 between Astarion and a female OC. Any NSFW content will be marked in the Warnings section. Contains angst, fluff, explorations of trauma, spice, graphic fantasy violence, and a guaranteed happy ending.

For anything additional on what to expect (and not expect), check the preface post.

Summary: Áine explains her past connections to Moonrise Towers and Ketheric Thorm to their companions as her anxiety mounts at the prospect of returning. She’s met with pushback from Wyll, which triggers her into anger before she can stop it. Áine meets with Jaheira again privately, explaining her hesitation to face Ketheric again and how she fears that she might sabotage the mission if he somehow recognizes her. Considering making the journey alone to spare her loved ones, Áine finds herself in a conversation with Halsin as he tends to the comatose Flaming Fist. The former Archdruid offers her comfort and perspective. 

Pairing: Astarion x Fem!OC

Warnings: Angst; descriptions of feeling triggered and trauma-based anxiety; forced shared flashbacks via the tadpole connection by the illithid tadpoles (it’s an assault on the group but primarily on Áine); fragmented traumatic flashbacks that imply past violence, abuse (physical and verbal), and include grief (Áine); descriptions of pain and blood; suicidal ideation if you squint; lightly proofread

Word Count: 8.3k

Listening to: Funeral Bell - PHILDEL

A/N: The section that includes the forced flashbacks is written in a way that may be, but hopefully isn’t confusing (and if it is, I’m sorry). It’s meant to convey when Áine is fighting the connection and managing to break through while we’re experiencing the vision along with the others. She regains control toward the end of the flashback sequence, which is why the text interruptions go away. (I like to mess with the format in stuff I write, so I'm just back on my bullshit really.)

I was going to wait to post this because it's only been a couple of days since the last post, but I have a horrible headache and I could use the dopamine. That said, the next chapter will take more time since I haven't even started it yet.

Every moment between her confession to Astarion and the next time their companions roused was spent restless and uneasy. At times, even panicked. It was both too familiar and entirely new, this crushing, leaden weight in her chest.

She only noticed her heartbeat had started to pick up again when her beloved vampire stirred beside her from a light reverie he’d only just slipped into. Guilt ate into her stomach when he woke and studied her in the muted light that worked its way through the canvas draped around them. Áine met his eyes, her lashes fluttering as he brought a hand up to smooth her hair from her face and his fingertips left cool, soothing trails against her cheek.

“Sleep, darling,” Astarion murmured encouragement as he leaned in, a breath away from her lips. He brushed his nose against hers and she instinctively leaned in closer, secured in the cradle of his arms.

“I’m sorry I keep waking you,” Áine whispered back, bridging the gap to kiss him gently. “You can rest, love, I’m okay.”

“Not without you,” he grumbled, dropping his head forward and nuzzling into her neck. Áine smirked, carding her fingers through his curls and letting her hands brush the tips of his ears. A soft groan eased from Astarion’s throat, lost amidst her pearly strands. “I know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t know what you mean, little star,” Áine murmured back unconvincingly, kissing his crown as she continued her gentle ministrations through his locks.

Instead of arguing with her, he chuckled. “I do rather like that, you know,” he mumbled and she could swear she heard a bloodless blush in his tone.

Áine smiled. “The endearment or me playing with your hair?”

“Both,” Astarion admitted, a content sigh fanning across her neck. “Would you like to know what else I like, darling girl?”

“What else?” she asked.

“When you endeavor to rest those lovely eyes,” he said as he leaned his head away from the curve of her neck to peer down at her again, bending his elbow up to prop his head on his hand. “Instead of trying to lull me back into meditation so I stop fretting over you.”

The bard gave him a small frown. “I can’t sleep. There’s no reason we should both suffer for that.”

“I’m not suffering to stay up with you, Áine,” Astarion sighed. Despite his frustration, he couldn’t help but admire the little doe-eyed look she got just from hearing him say her name. “What can I do?”

“You can let me lull you back to reverie so you stop fretting over me,” Áine teased him.

“Darling, I truly don’t know how I’m supposed to do that,” he pointed out, getting a little annoyed. “You hardly touched your dinner and you aren’t—”

“Can you blame me?” Áine asked point blank. “After what I’ve told you, wouldn’t it be stranger if I slept peacefully and made merry without a care?”

Astarion’s lips thinned. “You seemed to be doing fine earlier, all things considered,” he mused, wondering if he was just not as talented at reading her as he’d thought. Then again, he hadn’t known quite what to look for earlier before he’d known what these lands meant to her. He’d had little more than her upset heartrate to read during their talk with Jaheira.

“Fighting out there came back like second nature. I didn’t have time to overthink it,” Áine said. “And this inn, these people… They’re new to me. It hadn’t sunk in yet, I guess.”

“And now?” Astarion asked.

“Now…,” she murmured, her gaze flickering down from his to consider his question before she met his eyes again. “...I’m scared.”

“You?” Astarion mused, a doubtful crease forming between his brows. “You’re the bravest person I know.”

“I don’t know that fear and bravery are mutually exclusive,” Áine said. “At least they never have been for me. Astarion, I’m… I’m terrified.”

“Of?” he urged.

Áine’s throat worked as her features pinched in a feeling he knew immediately and intimately—shame. He frowned when her eyes left his again, favoring his collarbones so she didn’t have to see whatever she was afraid to see in his stare. The vampire sighed and adjusted their blanket more snugly around her, scooping her closer until he had her nestled against his chest. Only when he felt her relax a little did he urge her again. “Talk to me, dearest.”

“You have enough on your heart without me adding to it,” she mumbled against his chest.

“What heart?” he teased her, earning a disapproving grumble from the woman he held. “How many times have you suggested I do the same—that I talk to you—while assuring me that my baggage imposes nothing on you?” 

He still didn’t quite believe her when she said that. His trauma followed him like one of the wraiths they’d fought. More nefarious than an ordinary shadow, wailing and clawing at any spark it could snuff out. Someday she would realize he wasn’t worth it, but she seemed to not have discovered that just yet. He’d enjoy it while it lasted.

“A few,” Áine relinquished in a muffled tone.

“Then afford me the same,” Astarion instructed, resting his chin atop her head.

Her warm sigh sank into his skin as she let her arm that wasn’t angled beneath her rest across his waist. “It’s not the same thing, not really,” Áine said, “but this, to me, feels like being back at Cazador’s front steps would to you.”

Astarion couldn’t help the way his body stiffened at her words, but he gently shushed her when she started to apologize for bringing it up. “No, it’s… That certainly puts it into perspective,” he said. Something in him flared just at hearing his sire’s name on her voice, at knowing how frightened she must be if that were the case. He was mulling over the logistics of just keeping her bundled up in here with him for an eternity when she spoke again.

“Do you think they’ll hate me?”

His brow bunched and his eyes flickered down toward the top of her head, but he didn’t pull back to look at her. “Who?”

“Our friends,” she replied. Her voice was small but steadier than before and completely serious. He couldn’t fathom it.

“Why would they hate you?” Astarion asked.

Áine exhaled a breath she’d been holding and it felt like her words started spilling out with it. “Because I’m not the bard they thought they met,” she said, her quiet voice cracking. “I’m not who they signed up to follow into this mess. I’m not ‘good,’ I’m not a hero, and I’ve done…terrible things.”

“You’re also a liar.” Áine tensed at his words, but the patterns he was tracing along her back didn’t cease. “You’re lying to yourself right now, for example.”

“Astarion, I’m—”

“Serious?” he finished for her, rolling to his back and pulling her with him. She lay atop him and he cupped her face in his hands. “I know you are. It baffles me.”

“What baffles you?” Áine asked.

“How you could possibly think anyone would hate you, my love,” he murmured, smoothing the pad of his thumb over her lower lip. “Have you met our friends? Everyone has something categorically wrong with them. If anything, it makes me feel a little better about tricking you into being with me to know you have a few skeletons of your own.”

She scoffed. “You didn’t trick me.” 

“Keep thinking that, darling,” he purred, pulling her down to kiss her forehead, then her nose and her cheeks. He spoke in jest, but wasn’t that what he did? Wasn’t that why this little slice of peace he’d been afforded wouldn’t last? 

“I don’t know how you don’t hate me,” Áine admitted.

Astarion snorted. He couldn’t help it. It was all he could do to not throw his head back and laugh in her beautiful face. “I’m sorry, my sweet,” he snickered when he met her eyes. She was embarrassed and exasperated that he didn’t seem to be taking her seriously again. How could he take her seriously though? It was the most absurd statement he’d ever been obligated to respond to. It was the very statement he should be presenting to her, but was too selfish to point out the obvious lest she see the light and go. 

When she tried to shift off him and escape his teasing, he hemmed her in with the frame of his legs, tightening them on either side of her hips. Astarion gave her a scolding look and nodded. “Well, go on. Why should I hate you?” he prodded.

He could see that he’d disarmed her. Áine hesitated, worrying her lower lip. “Well, I… I gave you the wrong impression, too.”

“What impression is that?” he asked.

“That the version of me you met is all there was,” Áine supposed, her brow pinched with the effort to put her anxieties into words, to make them sound remotely rational. Her wide amber eyes bore into his as she said, “I meant it when I said I’d done awful things, Astarion. I… What if I’m no better than…”

“Than?” 

“Than the people who hurt you?”

As soon as the words were out, he felt the shudder run through her frame like her body was an extension of his. Astarion sighed and tucked her against him, rubbing her back as he felt her tears dampen his shirt. “On your worst day,” he murmured, “you couldn’t come close.”

“You don’t know,” she whispered. “I don’t want to be that person again. And she feels so close here.”

“Shh, shh,” he hushed her soothingly again, content to hold her while she cried. Gods, she’d managed to soften his heart in their time together. It overwhelmed him to realize it at times. It was ever less terrifying, but unnerving all the same. When she quieted some, Astarion murmured against her hair, “Neither of us had a true choice in the end. But especially not you. You must know that.”

“Sometimes I do,” she murmured, sniffling. “But sometimes it feels like I could’ve done so much more than I did to get away.”

“You can’t punish yourself forever, darling, even if that’s true,” Astarion sighed. “I would be curled against the floor of my tent every night if I clung to every awful thing I’ve done, every mistake I’ve made, every time weakness won over.”

“It’s different for you,” Áine said, her voice kind as one of her hands came up to trace along his jaw. “You had no choice at all. You were compelled.”

“And you were a child, Áine,” Astarion said in a hard voice not meant for her, but for the world that hurt her. That hurt them both. “Children aren’t meant to know what’s ‘best’ or ‘good,’ that’s what parents are meant to teach. You’re casting judgment knowing what you know now and not considering all you didn’t know at the time.”

Áine pondered his words. “Is that how you think of yourself, too? Even if it’s different?”

“Yes,” Astarion said. “Granted, I don’t have the moral compass you do to misguide me, but anything I actually feel sorry for in that time falls into the same line. I did what I had to do to survive and so did you. They’re not our sins.”

Cautiously, Áine snaked her arms around him again, almost as if afraid he’d disappear. He could relate to that feeling, that need, that fear. He tightened his arms to try to help extinguish it. Astarion felt her breath on his neck when her lips parted, but she thought better of whatever she’d been about to say, burying her face against his shoulder instead. 

Finally, when she did speak, she said only, “Thank you.”

Astarion didn’t hate her. He forgave too much when it came to her, in her opinion, but she supposed she was the same with him. She adored him. How could she fault him for anything he’d done before just to endure the hell he’d suffered? She supposed she should just be grateful that he looked upon her with that same forgiveness. 

Áine guessed that the others wouldn’t be so understanding. She was soon to find out.

She and Astarion had stayed up when she still hadn’t found sleep, quietly talking until they heard their companions stir. That leaden feeling had returned to her gut the moment she heard them rouse and her lover had distracted her momentarily with kisses when he felt her heart start to hammer.

“And you’re wrong, by the way. You are the bard we met. This is who you’ve chosen to be, not what you were made to be. Weren’t you the one who told me something like that, darling? Afford yourself your own advice.”

The corner of her mouth quirked a little as she ran his words through her tired mind a few more times. She stared into the dancing campfire flames for a few moments more, listening to the hum of conversation around her, before she forced herself to speak. “I have something I need to clear up,” Áine said.

The crosstalk quieted and she felt eyes on her. That had been the goal, but now that they were there, she felt every burning stare. Any gusto she’d drummed up wilted like the flora outside the moon shield. It was already starting. The end of what she’d built. All because of what she’d been born into, what she’d existed within and endured for her first 45 years of life. Because of all she’d done before she’d known things could be different.

No going back now.

Áine cleared her suddenly dry throat. “Ketheric Thorm,” she said, the words poison in her mouth. “I know him.”

The silence stretched for what felt like an age. Finally, Karlach broke it. “What do you mean you ‘know’ him?” she asked.

The bard shifted through her discomfort at Karlach’s wary tone. She scraped through the nausea in her gut to find her voice again. “I was born into the covenant he keeps, that he uses,” she explained, already finding it more difficult to explain the truth of her past to all of them than it had been to explain it to Astarion down by the lake. She wasn’t surprised, but she was finding it quite tough to even get the words past her lips. “I was oathbound. Just like the rest of my family. And now I’m not. But I’m telling you this because I’m still concerned. There’s a very real chance that he may recognize me if we come face-to-face with him at Moonrise. Or at least put two and two together. Half-drow aren’t exactly common as far as I know.”

“So you were a paladin then?” Gale asked, seeming more like he was just trying to get his facts straight than that he was doubting her. She still occasionally caught him tiptoeing around her, careful not to fall into her poor favor a second time, but she didn’t think that was why he was being careful now. This just felt like Gale being Gale. When she nodded, Gale asked further, “And now you’re oathbroken? Is that where your power came from in the Underdark? That you used to defeat the spectator?”

Áine nodded again. “That’s right,” she said, appreciating the understanding look in his eyes, holding to it like a lifeline. “That’s also why we’ve had a knight hanging around camp. He’s…well, he’s sort of the authority over broken oaths. Mine reinvigorated when I used its power and brought him back to me.”

“You know that makes a lot of sense,” Gale mused, chuckling. “I’m embarrassed to not have put that together.”

“How long ago were you oathbound?” Halsin asked, his features twisted with concern.

“I left ten years ago,” she said, “and before that…well, I served for about 20 years in all.” Gale’s straightforward curiosity had reminded her that not all questions equated doubt. Of course they would have questions. That rationale helped her more quickly recognize the source of Halsin’s concern and she added, “Long after you would have fought him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Praise Sylvanus for that,” he sighed emphatically, looking aggrieved. Relief lanced through Áine that she was correct. “Even if you’d been on the opposing side, I feel nothing but relief to know you weren’t somewhere on that battlefield.”

Áine smiled, her gaze shifting when a small, kind-looking Flaming Fist approached Halsin, asking if he’d come with her. Áine supposed it had something to do with the unconscious fellow in the inn when he excused himself to follow her. He couldn’t be too concerned or suspicious of her if he was content to leave their circle now, Áine figured.

“So the fear of being recognized is paramount?” Shadowheart asked, looking only somewhat concerned as Áine met her eyes.

Áine nodded. “I’m going to speak to Jaheira as well, I think, about that,” she said. “I’m afraid of sabotaging our infiltration if he knows my face. I want to say that it’s unlikely as I would have only been in front of him for my initiation in a group of other new blood, but there exists the possibility. It’s also possible that someone I’m related to or that I trained with could be there, too.”

“And how likely is that do you think?” Shadowheart asked.

“Given what we were used for, unlikely,” Áine speculated. “If operations are the same, he has his own separate guard for Moonrise. Or maybe he’s using cultists for that now, too.”

“There’s always a disguise spell,” Gale suggested. “Although I would be shocked if there weren’t wards around Moonrise to unravel such enchantments. Maybe if we—”

“And you are truly oathbroken?” Wyll asked, interrupting Gale’s ramble. Áine missed the edge to his voice but Astarion, lingering nearby and listening, caught onto it and bristled.

“I am,” Áine said simply and without a sliver of doubt.

“You did well to separate yourself from such an evil,” Lae’zel commended her, unbothered by Áine’s past and far more concerned with their next move. Áine cast her an appreciative look.

Wyll’s tone was not missed by the bard a second time. “I find it…hard to believe if I’m honest.”

The remaining party stilled, curious glances cast sideways at Wyll. Shaken by the sudden statement and confused by his meaning, Áine dumbly asked, “...What?”

“Hear me out,” he requested. With a gesture toward the horns protruding from his skull, Wyll said, “As we’ve all gathered by this point, I am also pacted. It’s a different situation, it’s true, but the base of it is the same. And I know how constrictive these agreements are. How hard it is to escape it, let alone find oneself again.” He rose from his seat, his hands resting against his hips as he looked down at Áine. Even if he didn’t mean to cow her, he was succeeding in her current headspace. “And I’m just not so sure that it could be possible to do that under this supposedly invincible undead entity that is General Thorm.”

“On what grounds?” Áine asked, a dangerous waver in her tone as she also stood, hurt by Wyll’s claims and unwilling to sit while he loomed over her. 

“It would have a horrific cost,” Wyll said with absolute certainty, not noticing how much he’d triggered her with his words. He gestured first at himself again and then at her. “A cost that, frankly, unlike me, you don’t appear to bear.”

Áine barked a cold, humorless laugh. “Not all of us get off as easy as a set of horns, Wyll,” she snapped, something unhinging within her. She tried to keep it hemmed in, horrified when the reciprocating spark of hurt and anger she saw flare in his good eye felt almost gratifying. “You… You would really doubt me? After everything we’ve been through?”

“Now, we’ve no need to fight amongst ourselves,” Gale imposed cautiously. His eyes darted between Wyll and Áine but also fleetingly to Astarion, who looked more prepared to intercept by the second. 

Ignoring him and the tension in their circle, Wyll pushed further. “It’s not you, I doubt, Áine. Not really. But you’re not exactly doing much in the way of convincing me otherwise, are you,” he said, his question not a question at all. “Though I hate to say it, it’s more suspicious that you—”

He was plucked from his tirade and his train of thought as a sensation akin to a hard tap thudded within his head. The disturbance sent a ripple through all their tadpoles. The only one who didn’t look confused was Áine, who instead looked shaken to her core. Wyll took in her expression and began to ask, “What’s wr—”

He couldn’t get the words out before it happened again. The next intrusion was shattering. Wyll rocked back on his heels, his hand going to his head as he steadied himself. The shockwave of the vision that bled open in his mind’s eye reached the rest of the group with lesser force. For an instant, they feared the takeover of the Absolute or an onset of ceremorphosis. However, the sights that filled their minds were somehow even less familiar. 

At least, they were at first.

The feelings came first. Unfathomable grief. Barely contained rage. Survivor’s guilt in its most basic form, sometimes an echo and sometimes a squall. Abject terror. Shame. A horrible, ever-present emptiness. All of it washed along the branches of their intertwined minds, traceable from what could’ve only been Áine’s memories, her heart, spilling over.

The bard clutched her head, her nails digging painfully into her scalp as if she could claw inside and dissuade the parasite behind her eye from its onslaught. The feelings, the memories, the panic had hit her like that gnoll back on the Risen Road, knocking the air clean out of her lungs until all she could do was scrape her breath back inside and try to keep her footing. She’d not anticipated this, hadn’t given a single thought to the damn worm, and her tadpole wriggled as if it knew, thrumming with the energy of her mind’s attack, and it had latched onto the others before she could conceive of how to stop it.

All she could do was drag back anything within her reach and augment the pieces that would hurt her most, the ones she would rarely let herself see clearly, much less the ones surrounding her, their parasites feasting on her memories as they bubbled to the surface unbidden.

Suddenly, no one present was themselves. No one save for Áine, who in that moment would have been anyone else. Behind her, as she struggled to stay standing and not sink to her knees, Astarion’s sight, too, was blanketed by memories not his and swept into this shared vision he shouldn’t have been privy to and yet couldn’t resist. Dully, he could feel Áine’s will flex against the tadpoles’, but her attempts to stop the illithid violation of her mind held all the power of a fish flopping against dry land, drowning in air.

It wasn’t Astarion alone who wanted to help her, who wanted this to stop, but none of them could move, could resist. Instead, they bore witness while their unwilling performer swallowed her screams.

Stonework underfoot studied by a bowed head. The tip of your worn boot is where your eyes focus because to raise the head is to look upon the oathsworn and it’s simply not done. You’re a worm beneath his feet and you will acknowledge the ground from which you’ve come while you swear your oath on your knees.

Your voice—her voice, younger and strained—aligns with the other initiates’ intonations in the memory. You are numb. In this war, there has never been golden propaganda or the promise of glory for a bit of your blood. This is expectation incarnate. You were born to do this, only this, to serve and die for your general. There was never a moment of ‘giving up’ because you were never provided an alternative to flee to. You’ve no notion of freedom to relinquish.

“I swear fealty to the undying general and those who faithfully follow, my life for the Thorm bloodline, my bloodline for his. 

“I will uphold the laws beset by my oathsworn master. I will be a bastion to he who would see unjust gods fall to ruin. I will suffer no charlatans, none who may interfere or prevent our cause. None who would rise against his final word. 

“No one will stand in the way of my fulfillment of my oathsworn’s will, be they beast, monster, or noble. I take responsibility for ensuring the return of Ketheric Thorm and his bloodline to its previous glory. 

“My life for the Thorm bloodline, my bloodline for his. I will bear the brunt of any chaos that this task creates. He speaks, I obey.”

The scene changes. The years blur as they wind back and fly forward in this vision. It’s the vision’s manifestation of Áine fighting her tadpole and theirs as well for control and losing. Áine’s nose started to bleed and they could all feel the warm runny trail, could smell the sickly sweet copper when it hit the cupid’s bow of her lips. Despite no sound passing her lips in the physical plane, they can all hear her scream in their minds when her tadpole burrows deeper, sinks its teeth, and twists. 

Battles rage wherever you go. Big and small. Ceaseless. Between your allies scraping for respect or with your ordained enemies fighting for their lives. Selûnites. Sharrans. Any who have wronged the general are at your disposal. You are at his disposal. Your life is forfeit if you refuse. You have grown up under the unnegotiable teachings that to break your oath is to die, slow and horribly and in dishonor. No gods will claim you. You will be a far-flung soul to be plucked from painful purgatory by hungry, greedy devils bound for Avernus. You will suffer. Better to live and suffer and have some semblance of control over your agony. 

The doubt begins to sink in much sooner than the resolve to flee. Oathbound, the underbelly of your family’s dealings is no longer hidden from you if it ever was at all. It’s not as if you ever had a choice in your “decision” to swear fealty. It becomes clearer as you age why you were born, half-elf cannon fodder for a selfish cause that traces back to one man who refuses to stay buried. Who refuses to let his family rest. Who rallies against every deity that refuses his twisted, blasphemous demands and purges their acolytes in retaliation.

Something shifts when you turn 45. The specifics are clawed back, leaving notable gaps, but you’ve been in service for 20 years and something finally snaps. You must leave. There’s no other option. You know that you will die trying—your oath will kill you when it breaks if your family or even Thorm himself doesn’t kill you first. But you must.

You can hear your breaths loudly in your ears in the quiet of the field you run through. The scenery is blurred but you can see the skyline of Baldur’s Gate in your periphery. The sky is milky with dawn. It’s a far cry from the cursed lands you just left behind. You might just make it past the outskirts before your oath’s bonds begin to be tested. You’re doubtful you’ll make it much further, but it ultimately doesn’t matter.

You hear the arrow before you see it, but it takes that long to realize what it is. There’s someone with you for just a second, but the bearer of the memories uses her depleting strength to rip them away. The arrow sinks into the ground where they would have been running. You keep running, hoping it’s a staggering shot and no more, but you know the truth. It was meant for you and it missed—it wasn’t meant for you, it never missed—and you keep running. The pounding of your heels is a lone staccato now. It always was. 

You feel your oath begin to shudder. It feels as though your ribcage is being hinged apart. You slow, hearing a shout, hearing threats. You’re not worried about yourself. There’s not much point now anyway. It’s over. You feel yourself give up like you’re a visitor in your own body.

You turn to look back. It’s a mistake. The figure of a hulking drow male stands at a distance, another smaller male that could be one of his brothers near him. The larger of the pair holds the bow, another arrow already knocked into place. It’s aimed at you. He calls you back like a wayward animal. 

Your eyes fall to the ground near him. A human woman sits in the grass, something nothing slung in her arms no no no no no no no 

You steel yourself to return if it means he won’t hurt her. She looks so unbearably small. Heavy streams of tears fall down her face and splash onto what she’s holding. You refuse to study it because, if you don’t acknowledge it, it won’t be true there’s nothing there, STOP STARING AT IT!

She looks up at you. You anticipate blame. It’s your fault that he’s dead gods he’s dead she’s going to die too why can’t you save her you tried to run, knowing what would happen. And you still went. 

Her lips part on a scream. It’s a scream that haunts every nightmare you have. That haunted you when your broken oath reached out to you through the Weave when you were practicing magic with Gale. Sometimes it comes to you while awake, sudden and sharp and senseless and spurred by nothing.

“ÁINE, RUN!”

You don’t turn away before the archer commands the other drow to slam his sword through her back. But the instant you see it, the instant you hear it, you run. Faster than you ever have. It’s a miracle you can even move, that you have the clarity to follow her instruction. Your pace is breakneck and would result in injury if you misstep even once. You don’t care. You’d rather die than be placed back in formation now. There’s no going back. You have nothing to return to. Death is preferable. You’d realize it always has been if you were ever honest with yourself, but you’ve been too scared, always too scared. You had something to lose back then. The fear dissipates with your worldly attachments, the only ones that have ever mattered.

The first arrow finds its home in your shoulder. The second hits closer to your heart and almost sends you to your knees. You do double over, but your legs don’t lose the pace you’ve set. Your built momentum keeps them loping forward until you regain enough of your focus to start surging them forward on your own again. 

Your shoulder is broken, there’s no doubt. The muscles are shredded around the carved flint heads. They’ve skewered through your flesh and are protruding out your front. You clutch your useless, injured arm and keep it drawn against your side so it doesn’t slow you down. Adrenaline postpones some of the pain, but not all of it. You feel like you’re burning alive.

You have the frame of mind to duck down and change position and it’s only because of that that the third arrow misses. You fell into old battle maneuvers without thinking, perhaps triggered by your injury, and you’re surprised it works against the drow hunting you. The arrow impales the ground where you would have been otherwise. That one may have been the one to kill you. 

Instead, you think your oath might do that.

You buckle your knees and skid down a slope that descends into a curve that goes past the treeline. You curl into the dirt as you fall, briars scraping the back of your neck and your scalp as you disappear beneath them. You’ll hide there until you’re sure they no longer pursue you. Or you’ll be found and dragged back. Your shoulder screams when you fall on it and you almost bite through your tongue to remain silent. You’ve stomached worse pain before but not many times, not like this.

Your oathbreaking is a different pain. It’s a wretched, angry thing that held heavy in your chest for the past two decades and now comes undone like a lightburned wraith. It rages in your bones, ravaging your insides and making your mind feel as if it’s melting from your ears. Distantly, you hear the male drows’ voices bark more threats and then a quieter exchange. They’re fading. They’ve lost you in the thicket or they assume you’ll die there, wherever you’ve ended up. If you survive your injuries and your oath, perhaps you’ll survive it all. But for what purpose now? 

You shimmy out from under the bracken an indeterminable amount of time later, your teeth grinding as you can’t help but snag the arrows on the roots, against the soil. You ache to get them out of where they’ve torn you asunder, but logic and years of training remind you that you need to wait until you can staunch the blood flow. Right now, the arrows are all that keep you from bleeding out and you need to appreciate that they’re of use to you for the time being, no matter how much they hurt.

The twisting agony still rages in your chest and you stagger to your knees when it finally reaches its peak. Just as swiftly as it riled and ruptured in your chest, it dissolves like splintering ice. Not just broken, not quite, but almost melting. Collecting. Reforming into something new.

“You have broken your oath, paladin.”

The gravelly voice startles you. Your first thought is the drow, but you’ve never heard a voice like this before. Your eyes lift by an increment to find blackened pewter boots decadently laced with gold patina and travel upward into the incandescent stare of something far beyond your understanding. It’s a knight, you think. But it’s unlike any knight you’ve ever seen.

He inclines his head to you, fire blazing within metal. “We have much to discuss.”

The vision shattered as Áine finally wrenched herself from the connection, breaking its center with her hard-fought departure. Freed as well, her companions each in turn shook their heads as if the vision could be cleared more quickly that way. Eyes instinctively wandered back to the half-drow near the fire who was staring into nothing as silent trickling streams of tears and blood grew stale on her face.

The first to push through their daze and act was Wyll. “Gods, Áine, are you—”

“Leave me alone,” the bard whimpered hollowly, blood under her nails as she finally withdrew them from her hair and quickly stumbled to separate herself from them. 

When she hurried past where Astarion stood, rooted to the spot, he instinctively reached out to catch her in his arm. She dodged around him without a second’s hesitation, her gait quickening as she disappeared past the inn.

“Leave her be, she’lak,” Lae’zel hissed to Wyll when he tried again to call Áine back. The pain she’d felt through Áine’s memories still lingered like a specter in her chest and repeatedly triggered a vicious “fight” instinct that she was trying to stamp back into submission. “She will return when she is ready.”

“Lae’zel is right,” Shadowheart decreed despite looking desperate to follow the bard, herself. Her eyes shone with grief-born pain, an interesting expression for a true Sharran to wear. “Did you… Did any of us cause that?”

“No,” Wyll said with complete certainty, heads shaking to echo the same sentiment around him. “I don’t even think she did it. It almost felt like she was fighting it the entire time.”

“Then the tadpoles just…did it on their own?” Karlach asked, her brows creasing at their middle.

“So much for having a ‘guardian’,” Gale remarked. It held the air of a quip, but genuine suspicion sharpened his tone into something that bordered an accusation. 

Their aforementioned guardian remained uncharacteristically silent.

The icy water off the shore of Last Light was all that pulled Áine back inside herself. She’d undergone a lot in her life, most of it physical, but that had been a new level of the Hells she’d experienced. She felt turned inside out and violated, like she’d had hands all over her and inside her, too, pulling out whatever they could the moment they’d smelt blood. 

Áine let herself sink just enough below the lapping tides’ surface to unleash the scream she’d felt building in her for the better part of an hour now. It ricocheted in her ears, muffled, and expelled where no one else could hear or be perturbed. For the briefest moment, she considered not resurfacing. Even so, she’d hardly finished that dark thought before she was swimming back up.

Her head broke the surface and she cupped the water to clean her face, idly wedging the dried blood and skin from her scalp from under her nails as she walked back up the shore. She’d just reached up to wring the water from her hair when she spotted just the person she’d earlier intended to speak to.  

“Jaheira?” Áine called, getting the High Harper’s attention. “Do you have a moment?”

Jaheira regarded her with curiosity as she approached, taking in her soaked appearance but also the look in the younger woman’s eyes and the defensive hunch of her shoulders. “You should ask instead if I have a towel,” she quipped before raising her hand. With a small flourish, the moisture left Áine’s clothes, leaving them perfectly dry and her hair just a little damp. Áine murmured her thanks and Jaheira inclined her head. “I assume though that wasn’t what you needed?”

“Not exactly,” Áine said, winding her wet locks into a haphazard bun at her nape.

“Then I have more than a moment. Some even say I have a few moments,” Jaheira said with an edge of humor, nodding for Áine to walk with her. They made their way inside the inn, found stools at the nearly vacant bar, and sat down. The building was filled with the hum of several conversations punctuated by the strum of Alfira’s lute. “What’s on your mind?”

Áine did her best to summarize everything she’d just told the others, from the covenant sworn under Ketheric to her former station in it and then to her concerns about how it would affect their infiltration of Moonrise Towers. Jaheira remained silent throughout, nodding occasionally to indicate that she understood what Áine was saying and she was listening as intently as she seemed to be. Jaheira had known about the covenant, but she had not known that it was part of—but not all of—what fed into his life force.

“Surely it must be more than the covenant,” Jaheira suggested as Áine paused to take a drink of the water she’d been served by one of the tiefling children playing bartender for kicks and the occasional coin. “Your bloodline is many but their binding would not create the power that I saw at the gate.”

“It wouldn’t,” Áine agreed. “There were whispers of some sort of relic that he kept. That it was the primary source of his immortality, maybe the healing you saw too. But we were never privy to what it was or where it was. That was always handled far away from any of our dealings.”

“I see,” Jaheira said, her mind already flying through possibilities. Coming up short, she turned her attention back to Áine and her predicament. “Well, you are right to be concerned,” Jaheira reasoned. Áine felt palpable relief that she was hearing her and hadn’t jumped to any conclusions. If anything, it made their newly established alliance feel less tenuous after their talk the day before. “However, it may not be such a bad thing.”

“No?” Áine inquired, encouraging her to continue.

“You have that parasite in your head, after all,” Jaheira said. “By all accounts, you should be under the Absolute’s control. Perhaps his ego would be his undoing. Picture—in the instance he does recognize you, he rests on his laurels thinking that someone who disobeyed him, who broke the oath they took to his cause, has been dragged back by a worm. It may disarm him even further than we anticipated.” 

Áine had to admit that she hadn’t thought of it like that, but she was right. It was certainly a possibility. Jaheira smirked. “Tread carefully, of course, but I will be most interested to hear how he reacts,” the druid said. “Or better yet, what he accidentally gives away.”

“I understand,” Áine said, absently nodding as she pondered Jaheira’s points. She gave a more certain nod when she went to stand back up. “Thank you, Jaheira.”

“Thank you,” Jaheira said, inclining her head to Áine before taking their half-pint bartender up on his second-time-offered tankard of mead.

Áine retreated from the bar, not quite ready to return to camp but needing to come to terms with what her next steps would be. Jaheira was right—it almost behooved them if Ketheric recognized her, if he was smug over his regained control over one of his oathbroken. Perhaps his only oathbroken. She wasn’t sure if anyone else had done the same before or after her. But it did make their arrival to Moonrise that much more dangerous as well.

In truth, she remained terrified. Of being back where her darkest memories originated, in Ketheric’s shadow, and also for the safety of her newly chosen family. Then again, maybe the unexpected way her parasite had regurgitated her trauma into their brains would have dissuaded them from carrying on with her. The thought was irrational, but it did pick firmly at her brain from the moment of its inception. Áine’s eyes wandered into the side room as she passed it en route to the entrance of the inn, wondering if Halsin was there. The lure of a friendly face who hadn’t just seen some lightly edited replays of her worst memories unfold was more than enough to alter her path.

He was indeed still there, seated by the unconscious man from the Shadowfell and leaning in close as if to hear something the man was speaking in his sleep. Áine wandered into the room and to Halsin’s side. 

“How is he?” she asked as she drew near, not wanting to startle the druid.

“He simply won’t wake,” Halsin sighed. “It’s a miracle from the Oak Father Himself that he’s even alive. That he’s coherent.” He looked up at Áine, but only slightly—seated, he was nearly eye-level with her. “There must be a way to wake him. He dreams of Thaniel, the very spirit and heart of this land. He may know what’s happened to him if we can find a way to rouse him.”

“Do you have any leads?” Áine asked, glancing between Halsin and the lingering Fist who’d come to fetch him from their circle earlier.

“Only what was on his person when we found him wandering the wilds,” the Fist said, “which wasn’t very much, I’m afraid.” The man began mumbling again and his barely discernable words almost sounded like a poem. Áine’s brows creased at the middle with pity. 

“Would you mind if I looked through it?” Áine asked. The Fist presented her with a tattered rucksack and a couple of bits and pieces she had to assume were in his pockets. As she parsed through it all, she found a faded missive that she had to study hard to make out. She saw a name—Art McCullough—and something else. “...Where is the ‘House of Healing’ relative to here?”

The Fist pulled out her map and carefully spread it out on the end of the bed. Áine passed the missive to Halsin for him to read while the Fist showed her where they were and then where the House of Healing was. Áine committed the route she showed her to memory. She’d add it to her own map once she retrieved it with her rucksack before she set out.

Halsin’s hope looked rejuvenated by her findings and Áine felt apprehensive of this turning out to be a dead end. It was the only lead she could find, but she hated the idea of disappointing him. 

“It’s on the path to Moonrise, so there’s no reason not to take a look one of the times we’re en route,” she said, scratching the back of her neck as she retrieved the missive from his outstretched hand and pocketed it. 

“Thank you, my friend,” Halsin emphasized. “You have the whole of my gratitude and my aid if you should need it. You and our companions, both, but that goes without saying.”

Áine’s lips pursed and her eyes found the floorboards when they began to burn at the corners. How could she possibly have more tears left? “I… Well, I might be going to Moonrise alone,” she said. “Regardless, I will try to find something to bring back if I can nail down where these orders took him.”

A deep fissure formed between Halsin’s scarred brows and Áine nearly lost her composure when his first instinct was to take her hand and pat it. His huge palms engulfed hers and she, not for the first time, was awed at what a feeling of safety he emitted without even trying. “Why would you need to do that?” he asked. The Fist stepped away to give them some privacy as Áine’s eyes threatened to spill over. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

Áine finally sighed, some of the moisture falling from her eyes and, to her embarrassment, hitting the back of Halsin’s hand. “I… I got into a bit of a row with Wyll over what I told you all earlier and something happened with the tadpoles. I don’t think I did it and, if I did, I didn’t mean to, but…,” she mumbled, sniffling against her free hand, which had come up to shield her shame. “It was never to be a safe venture to find the source of these things, I know that, but this… These circumstances make it even less so and I can’t have that on my head.”

Halsin listened patiently, absently patting her hand and measuring her grief. “It was likely a lot to handle, and more is soon to be handled. But handle it, we will,” he reassured her. “That is what friends do.”

“I made them see my memories, Halsin,” Áine insisted, his sympathy painful to her guilty heart. “It wasn’t me at first, it was the parasites, but they were still my memories, and toward the end, when I regained control… I didn’t stop it.”

“You must have needed to show someone then,” Halsin reasoned, offering her a kind smile when she finally found it in herself to meet his eyes. He was right in a way. She’d wanted them to feel her oath break since they were already there in her timeline. She’d wanted them to understand. “Which is nothing short of understandable, given that you’re being made to face it all again. By the worms and by being here. We both have tremendous agony attached to these lands, you and I. This time, neither of us need face it alone.”

Áine was at war with herself. She knew in her heart that she wouldn’t want Halsin to face any of this alone. She’d just agreed to help him try to heal the nature here, after all, by helping Art. Yet she couldn’t find it in herself to afford herself the same generosity. And she certainly couldn’t put her friends and her partner at the heart of something she already knew with horrible intimacy to be a sanctuary for pure evil. Just the prospect of it made her eyes well again and she parted her lips to argue only to have her voice crack on a stifled sob before she could get a word out.

Halsin squeezed her hand, holding her trembling fingers in a much surer grip. “Do not make an outcast of yourself, Áine. You’re in pain and you’re clutching your wounds. The instinct is to run away, but you mustn’t. Trust me,” he told her gently. His words brought back her recently revisited memory of actually running and clutching her broken shoulder. The phantom pain between her scars flared almost in answer. Her gut twisted. It twisted further when she finally accepted that he was right. “You needn’t hide from those who would help you heal.”

Áine sniffled softly and swallowed hard. “Would you come with us?” she asked in a quiet voice, his offered comfort a needed tether in her vulnerability. If they even stay, a dark voice reminded her, that inner voice harsh against the ache in her chest. And why should they?

Halsin smiled and shook his head. “I’m needed here. Just for now,” he told her. His eyes shifted briefly over her head before they returned to her flushed, tear-streaked face. “But you have me. That didn’t end with the Grove. It won’t end here either. You will be alright.”

“Don’t worry, Halsin,” came Shadowheart’s voice from behind Áine, startling her. “We’ll take care of her.”

“You’re godsdamn right,” Karlach agreed, appearing in Áine’s line of sight as she stopped near Halsin’s chair. She was almost embarrassed to be caught in such a teary state in front of the rough-and-tumble tiefling warrior, but the embarrassment was short-lived as Karlach gave her the most affectionate “Mama K” smile she’d yet seen. 

Áine swallowed against the lingering lump in her throat as a familiar pair of cool, strong arms slipped around her shoulders. Astarion kissed her blotchy cheek as he drew her back against his chest. 

“I’d like to see you try to leave me behind,” he whispered like a challenge near her ear.

Next chapter: Chapter 21, "Her Nightmare Revisited"

[fangbangerghoul]

oc asks: 1, 10, 15, 20 for whoever you like!

Thank you so much for submitting asks from this post! I appreciate everyone who asks about my OCs especially when I need to gear up to write another chapter for my fic. I occasionally have spurts of where I only can think of images so writing is more difficult than usual (and when you will see me posting more art) so OC asks help me warm up to write!

Since you gave me some freedom to pick who is for who. I did 1 + 10 for Ghoul and 15+ 20 for Erik!

What kind of person is your OC in a crisis? Are they calm and collected? Do they panic? Or are they chronically the cause?

Ghoul is very much panicking on the inside calm and collected on the outside. She will see it through one way or another but the entire time she is internally screaming whether from anxiety or rage that the situation she is in. Ghoul does cause a handful of her crises but she is plagued of being thrown into things unwillingly.

Is your OC sentimental or pragmatic? Do they keep mementos or only what they need to survive? Have they always been this way or did something happen to make them change?

Ghoul is currently pragmatic however with how things have been going in Voracious Oblivion I feel like it might be changing. She lost who she was and she has been slowly replenishing her well of memories. So, I think this round she might be more inclined to cherish the small moments and vivid sensations she experiences. No collecting things yet but we will see.  

What places hold significant meaning or memories for your OC? Do they have a positive or negative association with those places?

Rift stones are normally places he will subconsciously rest at and camps near lazy rivers. He thinks fondly of the first time Erik stepped out of the rift stone to gaze at his puny, confused Arisen. She had a look in her eyes that was defensive even if her face was in shock. He knew once he looked into those golden eyes, she was going to be a marvelous warrior to fight alongside. Lazy rivers remind him of the good times from the previous cycle. There were a lot of cozy intimate moments that he associates with lazy rivers.

Has your OC ever done something terrible and lied about it? Did they run away or blame someone else for it? How long did they maintain the lie and did the truth ever come out?

He is nervous currently about this. Erik knows a great deal more about their situation than he leads on with Ghoul. Erik is always on the fence on how to tell her or when. Or even if he should if all he knows is the one outcome he refuses to relive. When the sandal drops and all is revealed I think he cares too much to run from the blame. If she will need to take out the frustrations she feels out on him he will be ready. He just hopes she will forgive him for protecting her from the horrid knowledge in the end.

[dilucsfavorite]

What's your opinion of Irene and the Divine Warriors? What were their dynamics?

Personal, a joke headcanon I have is that Irene is like a neurodivergent Jesus who doesn't pick up on social cues (romantic or otherwise) and is completely oblivious to the Shad/Esmund/(Enki) love square she's caught in. Menphia and Kul'zak are in the background cracking up and panicking because they're basically babysitting a God-like deity (Irene) with the mental awareness of a five-year-old, a traumatized possessive Great dane (shad), a giant Golden retriever (Esmund), and most of their days are consumed with trying not to let Enki die in the crossfire

Before I get into my opinions, I think that joke headcanon is super funny. Also, I'll refer to the Divine Warriors as DW during this entire thing just to make it more easier to write and everything.

As a whole, I believe they are a very dysfunctional family. The way I see them, none of them have romantic feelings for one another as I do not feel as if any of them have the time to even have emotional connections like romance. They all used to be the best of friends, but as the weight of being important people and powers came crashing down on them, so did their friendships.

Some dynamics include:

Enki and Kul'Zak: These two are the closest out of the bunch, they are good friends and trust each other with every fiber in their body. However, to history and to the others, these two rarely interacted. Most of their friendship was hidden within letters sent between the two of them.

Irene and Shad: I hated the dynamic between these two on the show. Like.. they loved each other.. but like they didn't? In my opinion, They are polar opposites, both power wise, personality wise, and philosophy wise. They butt heads a lot, but they have their moments. To me, they are the type of found family siblings that will insult and throw punches at each other, but god forbid someone else insults one or the other.

Now, like their names suggest, They all had jobs within the group, though all acted alone and were all worshiped by different groups of people.

Irene was obviously the healer of the group due to what her powers are and what her name suggests. Here's the thing, I believe her powers are like.. too god-like for an entity described multiple times to be a mortal being. Like.. bring people back to life?? Its like a badly written OC. While I do believe she has the best healing capabilities, and some healing powers, I do not think she should be able to bring people back to life. However, she is the person who makes healing medicine a thing to be studies, and not just something left to witches or healing magic users. She started the idea of doctors.

Enki is the keeper. As the name suggests, he is the keeper of all knowledge, he records everything that has happened within the divine warriors, history that has happened in every nation. I like to think that he has a giant library hidden deep beneath the earth's core. It is like the library of Alexandria, but it has never been found. Most scholars do not believe it exists. But it does.

Esmund the protector. I think he has some pretty cool magic, and since we don't know what is powers are, I am going to make something up. He is the protector, meant to protect the people and his matron. I believe he has the power to harden his skin, but he does not use this to his advantage during fights, he only uses it when the fight is getting tough (which rarely happens). I also believe is a tall, buff man. Intimidating to anyone who does not know him, but he has a giant heart.

Kul'Zak the wanderer. He goes between nations, gathers history, records art, records the people and rulers of villages, and also the resident map maker. He and Enki work close together to fill the library up to anything that can fit into it. Also, he blends in so much that it was no wonder that people did not know he was the wanderer.

Shad the destroyer. I believe his old title was Shad the fighter. Unlike Esmund, Shad was always on the front lines fighting. He never really protected anyone, but he was sure a fighter. He was the type to blindly go at it when it came to war, and it had gotten him in trouble many of times with the other DW. He got the title of destroyer during the war. The title of fighter is only kept within the Library that Enki has. Books and other history was destroyed in the book burning of history books.

Menphia the fury. She was usually in the back of wars, having magic that allowed things to fall from the sky to attack enemy lines. Things like fireballs and such. The reason why she is not so talked about is because she wanted it that way. She did not want to be known, she did not want to be remembered. In some regions, the story of the raining fireballs became that of myth, became a story. One that only happens during war full of magical energy converging. Menphia only wanted to live a quiet life, not fight others, espessially people she used to call her friends.

This took forever to type up but coming up with ideas like this was fun !!!!!

[photogirl894]

"Mirrors in the Force"

Chapter 2

"The Master"

A "Rebels" fanfic!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus x fem OC (blasphemous, I know 😜)

A/N: Here's the next chapter of my new fic where you'll get to know Elaré a little bit more! This one was a fun one that I enjoyed writing and I hope you all enjoy reading! 😊

Taglist: @dragonrider9905 , @scarlettrose9901 , @darthzero22 , @reader6898 , @moonstrider9904 , @techs-stitches , @ilikemymendarkandfictional

《 Chapter 1

》 Coming soon!

All chapters

Explanation: Elaré's different abilities are tested by a great and powerful Jedi Master.

Elaré was in quite the hurry as she ran through the halls of the Jedi Temple. She had to get where she needed to be and fast.

"I can't believe I did it again!" she thought to herself as she went.

Her feet carried her swiftly through the temple until she was just around the corner from her destination. However, as she turned the corner, she saw a group of younglings coming out of the room.

She was too late. Again.

Right then, she was going to backtrack behind the wall and out of view, but a couple of the other Padawans spotted her anyway. 

"Oh, look who decided to not show up to lightsaber training again," cried out one of the boys named Mag, causing Elaré to halt.

"Seriously? When are you ever going to be responsible and actually come to class?" a girl called Sani then chided her.

Elaré just looked away, embarrassed and ashamed as the rest of the Padawans goaded her while they walked away. This was definitely not the first time she'd been irresponsible and either been late or missed this class entirely. Despite the fact she already had a Master, it was deemed that Elaré was still a little too young to be brought into battles, so whenever Master Gallia was away on a mission, she was still to attend lessons with fellow Padawans who hadn't been assigned to Masters yet. However, she had a bad habit of missing said lessons, even more so in the few days that had passed since Caleb had left on a mission.

Once the others were gone, she quietly walked into the large room where a single Jedi Master stood in the middle of the room, his back to the door as he looked out of the large window in the room at the horizon of Coruscant. 

She got down respectfully onto her knees, bowed her head and spoke up timidly, "Forgive me for intruding, Master."

The Jedi Master replied without turning around, "Late again, you were, young Padawan. Lost in your meditations, were you?"

She sighed with defeat. "Yes," she answered, lifting her head back up. "I know, it isn't an excuse, but I have no other reason for my tardiness. I know I should be more responsible with my time and actually come to class on time."

It was then he turned around to face her and the kind, wise face of Master Yoda; the greatest Jedi in all the Order appeared, looking at her.

"Hear such things, where did you?" he inquired.

"From my classmates," she told him. 

He leaned forward slightly on his cane. "Ever hear such reprimands from me, have you?" 

She blinked a couple times, puzzled. "Uh...no, Master," she said.

The small Master chuckled good-heartedly, which the Padawan wasn't expecting. "Believe they are the teacher, your peers do, which is why they think they can chastise you. Wrong, they are, to behave in such a way. Nothing to be ashamed of, you have."

Elaré's jaw slackened. "I don't?" 

Yoda shook his head. "Trouble me, it does not, when you arrive late to training due to meditating and losing track of time. To learn proper meditation, also a good Jedi skill, it is."

"The rest of the Padawans my age don't seem to think so. They tease me for it," she said.

"Value their opinions over mine, do you?" he questioned her.

She panicked for a brief moment, blurting out, "No! Of course not, Master Yoda."

He took a couple steps closer, the tapping of his cane echoing in the empty room. "Important, it is, to learn to wield a lightsaber and fight in battle. To meditate and connect deeply to the Force, an even greater lesson. Without the Force as our ally, rendered useless, our lightsaber training is." Then he grinned proudly. "Already well ahead of the other Padwanas in that regard, you are, Elaré. Learn something from you, they could."

Elaré couldn't believe what she was hearing. Instead of being reprimanded for missing the lesson, she was being praised and by Master Yoda, of all people. For a moment, she was speechless.

Noticing this and still with a grin on his face, Yoda asked, "Nothing to say, have you?"

When she found the ability to speak again, she said to him, "Sorry, Master. I just was startled by your words, but they do mean a lot to me."

"Tell me, young Padawan. The Force...what do you think it is?" Yoda then asked her.

She responded, "The Force is an energy that binds everything and everyone together. It's created and sustained by all life in the universe. It's a part of all of us, but the Jedi have a stronger connection to it." 

All of a sudden, she was poked in the shoulder by the end of the Master's cane and she yelped in both surprise and slight pain.

"Textbook definition, that is," he stated. "Think not with your mind...but with your feelings. Reach deep, you must, and find your own answer. Now, rephrase my question, I will. What is the Force to you?"

That was a different question than she was anticipating. Her gaze lowered in contemplation as she took a moment to think of the best way to answer. What was the Force to her? How could she accurately describe it? There were so many things she could say, but nothing seemed right.

Then finally, she settled on an answer. Her head lifted and she said to the wise Jedi, "To me, the Force...is a guardian. It's there no matter where I go or what I do. It's where I find peace, knowledge and protection. I know I won't ever truly be alone because the Force is my constant ally, shielding me from the dangers and influences of the Dark Side. It's what I call upon to guide my saber in a fight and my feet on the paths I take in life. It's there for me when no one else is; it's my constant companion watching over me."

Yoda looked impressed at her answer. "Wise beyond your years, you are, Elaré," he praised her. "Most other students your age, unsure how to answer, they would be. Exceptional, your explanation was."

Once again, Elaré couldn't believe that the Master Yoda was speaking so highly of her. "Thank you, Master," she replied, unable to hold back a wide smile.

"Another small test for you, I have," he then said. "Stand up...and your lightsaber, activate it."

The young lady did as she was told. She got up to her feet, withdrew her lightsaber and activated her golden blade. As she did so, she saw one of the large, half-dome shaped helmets the students usually wore during training floating in the air towards her. She realized Yoda was using the Force to send it her way.

"The helmet, put it on," he told her.

Even though she was a little perplexed at what he was asking of her, she did as she was told and placed the helmet on her head, the front of it tilted just a bit forward so it covered her eyes. Then she heard the beeping and whirring of a training remote Droid being activated. 

"Raised, the difficulty programming in the remote has been. Better to test your combat level," Yoda explained.

She gave a nod of her head and then took a defensive stance, raising her lightsaber. She tapped into her connection with the Force, willing it to help her sense the remote and block its attacks. Right away, she sensed it a few feet away, readying its first attack. 

Then she inhaled deeply, letting the Force flow through her as she whispered the ancient Jedi words, "I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."

The remote fired and she knew where to block, her blade absorbing the shot. A few seconds later, it fired again and she sensed it coming from her right side. She parried again, swinging her lightsaber out. Then she sensed a rapid-fire wave of shots coming at her as the remote seemingly moved to the left. Quickly, she swung her blade back and forth to block each shot.

Just then, there was a secondary presence behind her, which surprised her. A second remote. Since it caught her by surprise, it managed to land a hit on the back of her shoulder, making her yelp. The laser bolt stung a little. Master Yoda was really testing her now. She spun around and blocked the next shot, but she could still sense the first remote that was now behind her. If she kept flipping back and forth, it would make her disoriented. Instead, she leapt back a couple feet so now both remotes were on either side in front of her. The Force continued to serve her well as she went on to block more shots. A couple of them came rapidly and she took a hit to her thigh and her arm, but luckily, these laser bolts weren't all that powerful. If anything, they just stung, but didn't do much damage. Her blade almost seemed to move on its own, even though her mind was conscious of her actions. This was the Force at work, guiding her every move and helping her see what couldn't be seen. It felt incredible! If this was what it felt like using the Force now, she wondered what it would be like when she was older and had more training. 

Then there was one more twist to her test Elaré hadn't anticipated at all. There was movement behind her, a lightsaber igniting, and when she whirled around, she sensed Master Yoda's blade clashing with hers. 

"Good. Very good," Yoda commented before stepping back and using the Force to pull the helmet off of her head, sending it clattering to the floor. "Hinder you now, the helmet will," he said, "but keep your eyes closed, you must. Face me through the Force."

Elaré trusted in his instructions and closed her eyes, readying her weapon for his next move. Despite his old age, he was quick and agile. He senses told her he was moving to the side, jumping through the air before going in for another strike. She parried his attack and then did so a second time before being bold and lunging in for hit herself, seeing him in front of her in her mind. Yoda effortlessly fought off her attacks or leapt in the air from side to side to dodge them. At one point, she thought she'd give the old-timer a taste of his own medicine and flipped over his head to his other side when he came at her again. However, she only heard him laugh in amusement and he started hopping around again when she thought she had him. Then finally, he landed and she sensed he was going to use the Force on her, so she threw up a hand at the same time he did to try and counter it. However, he was immensely stronger with the Force than she was and her resistance only lasted a couple seconds before she was launched backwards, rolling across the hard, marble floor. She supposed she should've seen that coming. She was going up against the great Master Yoda, after all. 

As she sat up, Elaré could hear his weapon deactivating before he told her, "Performed well, you did." When she looked up, he was holding out her lightsaber hilt to her, which had gone flying from her hands a moment before. She took it from him and got up to her feet.

Resting both three-fingered hands atop his cane in front of him, Yoda gave his judgement: "Needs more discipline, your form does...but your bond with the Force, put you ahead of your classmates, it has. Need to attend this class anymore, I feel you do not."

A half-grunt, half-gasp escaped Elaré's throat. Master Yoda really deemed her that skilled that he didn't think she'd need to be a part of the class of peers her own age? 

He continued, "Impressed, I am, with your skills, young Elaré. Two learning alternatives, I have for you. Attend a class with older Padawans, you may, or...have private training sessions with me, you can."

Hearing those options made her legs shaky and nearly give way. "Master Yoda...I don't know what to say!" she cried. 

He grinned, seeing how shocked she was. "Need to make your choice right away, you do not. Take time to ponder your answer. Let the Force guide you. Strong, you are, with the Force. Lead you down the right path, it will...and offended, I will not be, if you choose the other class." Then the small Jedi gave a hearty chuckle.

As he turned to walk away, Elaré asked him a question that was on her mind since this whole situation had started: "Master Yoda...of all the Padawans you could choose to gauge their talents...why me?"

The wise Master stopped and turned once again to face the Padawan. "Prefer to study the Force and its teachings; its secrets not through text or lessons, but through personal meditation, you do, yes?" Yoda inquired of her.

She nodded. "That's true, yes," she said.

"Then know the reason behind your kyber crystal, do you?" he then asked.

"Um...actually no, I don't," she admitted.

He hummed again. "A golden yellow crystal, you have. Very rare, that particular crystal is. Signifies strong warriors and associated with knowledge, it is. By Jedi who deeply study the workings of the Force, they are often used, and represent deep understanding and commitment to using the Force for good. Symbolize loyalty and creativity, they also can. Extraordinary, it is, to see a young Padawan your age worthy of such traits."

Elaré looked down reverently at the sleek, black lightsaber hilt in her hand. She'd never known any of that about her gold crystal. Admittedly, she hadn't seen any other gold sabers around the temple, save for the temple guards, but she hadn't fully realized how special that made hers...and her by extent. 

Master Yoda took a couple steps closer to her, gazing up at her proudly. "Great potential, I could sense in you, the day you were brought to the temple. Then when you found a gold kyber crystal, knew you were a unique child, I did," he told her. "Over the past twelve years, have you lived up to the potential I sensed in you. Learned, you have, to harness the Force in ways many do not until they are older. Continue in this way and even powerful enough to see the future one day, you could be."

"See the future?" she repeated in awe.

He bowed his head in affirmation. 

"You're able to see the future, aren't you, Master?" she then asked.

Once more, he bowed his head, humming low to himself as he sometimes did. "It took me many years to master such an ability. Much training, patience and discipline, it requires," he answered, "but always in motion is the future. Seen so easily, not all things can be."

"I see," she said, her voice lowering.

"Disappointed in that, are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Maybe a little," she confessed. "I just thought, if I could learn to see the future, then I could see the end of the Clone War and how things are going to go. I could see what could happen and know how we could potentially save more lives, even save more Jedi."

Yoda hummed again in understanding. "While good, your intentions are...dangerous, it can be, to try and change the future, young Padawan. Do such things, even I cannot."

"I understand, Master," said Elaré. 

Then, with a tap of his cane on the floor, Yoda declared, "Now finished, this lesson is. Go now, youngling, and enjoy yourself. Return to your meditations, if you'd like, or perhaps enjoy some quiet in the library. Earned it, you have."

With a grateful smile, Elaré bowed to him and replied, "You honor me, Master Yoda, with your teachings and your words of wisdom. I'll let you know what I decide on your offer hopefully soon."

"Await your answer eagerly, I will," he said.

She flashed him a happy smile and then walked out of the room, her mind reeling from everything that had just happened. She had expected a scolding, not a test and then a recommendation for higher learning. That had all caught her quite by surprise. Master Yoda had even told her she could maybe one day see the future through her use of the Force. Knowing that, she really wanted to make it happen. Even though the Master had said it would be difficult and take a lot of time, she was determined to make it a reality. 

"If I can learn to see the future, I can help a lot of people," she said to herself. "I'm sure I can figure out when this war will be over. I'll help save lives. Master Yoda said it can be dangerous to change the future, but I know I can do it! I'll show him that I can. I'll make a difference in this war, even if I can't fight in it. I'll show him...I'll show everyone."

A couple days later, Elaré was back in her usual place, sitting in front of the Great Tree, resuming her meditations. In the calm recesses of her mind, she continued chanting the mantra she'd used before. 

"I am one with the Force and the Force is with me."

In times of stress or when she wanted to meditate deeper than usual, those words helped her a lot. They seemed to bring her comfort and made her feel calm.

Or, at least, she was calm until she heard an angry voice yell at her from across the grounds. She groaned with irritation. It was a voice she knew all too well and didn't care to hear right now. 

When her eyes opened, there they were, standing before her and scowling down at her. It was the two bullies of her class that had scolded her before; not only that, but had been unkind to her for some time, Mag Amaj and Sani Oten. Mag was a human boy with dark skin, short black hair with a Padawan braid on his left side and red eyes. Sani was a Mirialan girl with light green skin, a shaggy pixie cut of dark brown hair with her Padawan braid hanging down her right side, emerald green eyes and a tattoo in a "V" formation made of several diamond shapes going across her face. 

"Mag. Sani," Elaré flatly greeted them, annoyed at their interruption. 

"What's your deal, Drenda?" Mag angrily demanded, addressing her by her last name. 

Elaré raised her eyebrows. "You wanna be more specific?"

Displeased at her supposed innocence, Mag blurted out, "Master Yoda told the rest of us you weren't gonna be in class anymore because you're moving up to a higher level. What, do you suddenly think you're better than us now? How did you even swing that anyway?"

She rolled her eyes. The nerve of this boy. "I fail to see how you think you're entitled to that information after how you've treated me," she fired back.

As Mag grimaced at her, Sani spoke up in a nasally, bratty voice to him, almost as if Elaré wasn't even there, "I think she must've used a Jedi mind trick on Master Yoda to try and get out of coming to class."

Elaré gawked at her in disbelief before asking her, "How stupid are you, Sani?" 

The Mirialan girl gasped in offense. 

Then Elaré went on to say, emphasizing certain words so maybe what she said would get through their thick heads, "I'm not dumb enough to even think of using a mind trick on any Jedi Master, let alone Master Yoda, the head of the Jedi Council, of all people." 

Both Mag and Sani just glared at her, unamused. 

She propped her elbow up on her knee and leaned into her palm, seemingly bored with the whole conversation. "Besides, mind tricks only work on the weak-minded, so it would never work on a Master...but I'm certain it would work on you two."

That statement didn't sit well with the other two. Mag took a step forward, questioning, "Are you calling us weak?"

Elaré shrugged and stood up, figuring she wasn't going to get back to her meditating anytime soon. "I didn't say that at all...but if the shoe fits...," she replied with a sly grin.

Right then, Sani snapped and shoved Elaré hard, pushing against her shoulders and making her stagger back.

"Don't touch me again," Elaré warned her.

"Fine, then," Sani replied snidely. "I don't have to touch you to get back at you." Then she held out her open hand and used the Force to summon Elaré's lightsaber to her hand, snatching it midair.

"Hey! Give that back!" Elaré shouted. "You have no right to touch that!"

Sani just smirked connivingly, waving the lightsaber between her fingertips at Elaré. "What are you gonna do, Drenda?" she taunted. 

Her anger taking over, Elaré moved to tackle Sani to the ground, but Mag was quicker. He grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, eliciting a cry of pain from her.

"Good luck getting away," he said in her ear, tightening his grip on her arm.

Sani snickered in amusement. "Who's the better one now?" 

"Well, it's definitely not either of you bullies."

Elaré's lightsaber was suddenly whisked away from Sani's hand and they all watched as it flew to someone else's hand; the same someone who had just spoken. 

"If I were you, I'd get out of here before things get ugly. Leave Elli alone or else."

Then Elaré's face broke out into a smile as she recognized the newcomer.

Caleb had returned. 

[itsmehemma]

kent who didn't know that you were a siren till the poe cup.

“ 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐬 “

𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝 𝙆𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨/𝙤 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚𝙣.

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗞𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘅 𝗦𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗻! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝗳𝗲𝗺! 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱, 𝗮𝗻𝘅𝗶𝗲𝘁𝘆 𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗮𝗰𝗸, 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗲! 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿, 𝗳𝗹𝘂𝗳𝗳 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗱 :)

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: my first drabble/blurb here on tumblr! this is female implied, specify in the future if you want any male or gn readers! also, if you’re interested in Demon Slayer, follow me on Wattpad, I’m currently writing an oc backstory in the Demon Slayer universe! Wattpad user: _sleepy-head_

You bounced your leg up and down, nervous about the events that were going to unfold that day.

It was the day of the Poe Cup finale, and you were here, in your dorm, getting ready with your dorm mates, Divina and Bianca.

Bianca noticed your nervousness from where she was sitting, carefully doing her makeup in front of her mirror.

“y/n? Are you alright?”

Your roommates voice snapped you out of your daze. Divina raised her head, interested by the commotion.

“Oh yeah. Fine.” You blinked rapidly, and stood up.

Your short, white streaked hair was pulled back in a ponytail, golden glittery eyeshadow was displayed on your eyelids. Bianca had insisted on you wearing fake pearls, so they were situated at the outermost corner of your eyes.

You began to pace back and forth, causing your friends to worry more.

“Are you sure? You seem nervous. If you’re starting to have second thoughts, we can reconsider the plan entirely.” Divina suggested, taking in your worrisome state.

“No, no. It’s totally fine. I just haven’t done this in a while.”

You were a siren, but not many people knew that. You were quiet, and hated singing. Your amulet was hidden in your pocket, preventing the use of your Siren Song. You never went near water, meaning nobody could ever see your fins or tail.

You hated going into the water. It reminded you of when you were younger, when your mother would get angry at you for not being able to use your tail properly in the water. It wasn’t your fault, you were only a child, but your mother thought otherwise.

Nevermore was your safe space, far away from water, and far away from your parents. It was almost perfect. Almost. But here you were, waiting to get into the lake to sabotage the other competitors boats.

As the time neared, you began to get more and more nervous, your leg bouncing up and down, and you felt a familiar tightness in your chest.

This cannot be happening right now. You thought, glancing at your image in your vanity mirror. I cannot be panicking right now.

You tried your best to inhale, and to calm yourself. It worked, temporarily. But just like that, it was time to meet up with the rest of the Golden Bugs for the Poe Cup finale.

Divina linked her arm with yours, for reassurance. You smiled back at her, the butterflies in your stomach slowly dying off.

You followed Bianca to the lake, where the Nevermore staff and students were beginning to gather. Principal Weems was setting up her microphone stand with the help of Ms. Thornhill. She nodded at your group as you approached the canoe.

It was a beautiful, sunny day. The green forest was lush and full of life. The water was murky, with fish swimming around and seaweed moving alongside the current. It was a calming sight for others, but not for you. This was a reminder of what was to come.

Divina helped you board the canoe, and she handed you your oar.

“You’ll be fine, y/n. I promise. There’s no reason to worry.” Divina must’ve picked up on your nervousness.

“Yeah, I know. It’s something else that’s bothering me actually…” You replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Divina’s eyes widened.

“Is this about Kent?”

You nodded, chewing on your bottom lip anxiously.

“Listen,” Divina reassured. “Even if he doesn’t know that you’re a siren, I doubt he’ll care. He’s been dating you.. for how long? Two months? He loves you either way.”

“Yeah,” Bianca added in. “He might be a little shocked, but you know Kent. He hardly gets mad. And who cares if he doesn’t know about this new addition to the plan? You’re going to do great, I promise.”

You felt tears forming, but quickly wiped them away. You absolutely loved your friends.

“Thanks you guys. I.. I’ll try.”

“Good.” Divina smiled. “And if Kent complains, I promise you I’ll beat his ass for you.”

The rest of teams began to come in, boarding their canoes and whispering over their plans. Students and staff members began to trickle in, dressed in their team colors. Students were bickering excitedly along the shore.

You clutched your oar, examining the other teams. You spotted those from Ophelia Hall, dressed in cat suits. Enid glanced your way, followed by a glare from Wednesday. You turned back, focusing on the water all around you.

The next few moments were a blur.

The race had started, and the Gold Bugs were in the lead, as per usual. You spotted Kent on the hidden dock as you rowed.

He gave you a smile and a nod as he unbuttoned his shirt and jumped into the water. You began to stand, your legs shaking.

“y/n! Steady! Again, good luck!” Bianca shouted over the commotion, as one of the other teams began to cry out as their canoe fell apart.

You dropped your oar and jumped into the water, a cold rush enveloping your body. Your legs turned into a tail, and you felt yourself breathing normally again.

Remember the plan: tip over Ophelia Halls’ canoe. Your thoughts raced as you swam through the murky water. You hated that your vision was limited in this pool of aquatic plants and mud. It made you shiver at the thought of ever falling into the water without fins.

As you approached the canoe, you felt your hands shake. What if you got stuck under the canoe, or what if you tipped over the wrong canoe? You felt your chest tightening, and your breaths began to come in and leave quicker.

This cannot be happening. Not now.

You tried to steady yourself and breathe, trying to make your way towards Ophelia Halls canoe. You saw Kent there, pushing along the side of the canoe. His eyes widened as they landed on you.

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. You tried to inhale, but then you realized, you couldn’t.

You glanced down, and realized that in your anxious state, your tail had disappeared. You were drowning.

You swam upwards, breaking the surface and gasping for air. Ophelia Halls canoe had continued on, meaning that Kent had failed. You shivered, and swam under, using every ounce of energy you could spare into gaining your tail back.

You swam towards the canoe, and began to claw at the bottom of it, weakening the wood underneath. You willed the water to push the canoe back, and you shoved your entire body against it.

The girls aboard the canoe exclaimed loudly, trying to hit you with their oars. Once you had pushed them off course, you swam towards your canoe. You broke the surface, and you felt arms lift you up. Divina and Bianca hauled you up onto the canoe, handing you your oar and congratulating you.

Their cheer was short lived, as the Gold Bugs had lost the Poe Cup to Ophelia Hall. At the time of the celebration, you sat with Divina, who was scolding Kent, who had a newly bruised eye, and Bianca, who was rolling her eyes, angry.

Kent looked hurt, and it wasn’t about Divina yelling at how he had cost them the race.

He was staring at you, his green blue eyes bearing into you. You smoothed your skirt and stood up from the picnic table.

“I’m going to my dorm.” You excused yourself and walked away.

You hadn’t noticed Kent had followed you, and you only noticed when he pulled you by your arm.

“Hey, what was that all about?” He asked, gently letting go of your arm.

“What do you mean?” You looked down at your shoes, crossing your arms against your chest.

Kent sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a siren? Do you not trust me enough?”

You glanced up at him. He had a hurt expression on his face, and his hands were in his pockets, something he did when he was anxious.

“It’s fine if you don’t want me to know, I understand. I’m just hurt. If you had told me I would’ve helped you during the Poe Cup.”

You began to fidget with your fingers.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that..”

“Just what?”

“I’m not a very good siren. My mother would pressure me into being better, but I could never meet her expectations. I’m not even full siren. My father is a normie. She resents him. I guess that’s why I don’t put much effort into what I do, and why I’m a bit afraid of swimming in murky water..”

Kent didn’t reply for a few seconds, leading you to worry.

“Forget what I just said.” You felt anxious, again, and decided it would be best to hunker down in your dorm for the rest of the day.

Before you could walk away, Kent pulled you into a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around you.

“Hey, y/n, it’s alright. You should’ve told be earlier. I could’ve helped you. It’s okay, I’m not mad at you. I could never be.”

You hugged him tightly, burying your face into the crook of his neck, letting yours tears slip down your face.

You both stood there, in front of your dorm, holding one another.

You finally felt at home.

[birth-stories]

Just a quick fic I decided to write of my oc, nothing really that great

Word count: 700

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It was late in the summer evening, the air was heavy with humidity, sun just barely setting over the grassy fields.

None of this stopped Charlotte from where she sat, partially kneeling in the birthing pool she had set up on her back porch.

She had been preparing for this moment for months now, since the day she found out about her pregnancy. But the nerves were getting the better of her.

A light squeeze to her palm made her snap out of her pained haze, face flushed as she remembered her friend was still with her.

“You're going to do great-“ Anne spoke, reaching to tuck a strand of hair from Charlotte's sweaty face.

“Yeah? Thanks-“ she mused with a weak little smile, releasing the other hand. Shifting in the water as she sat back with a slow breath.

“Mmm-“ she groaned quietly beneath her breath. A hand reaching to cradle the bottom of her tight stomach, another contraction taking over her tired body.

“Another one?” Her midwife spoke up as she stepped out from the back door, a cup of ice water in hand.

Setting it down, the midwife was quick to put on a pair of gloves and kneel in front of Charlotte. Coaxing her legs open, she slipped a few fingers in before quickly withdrawing them.

“Your fully dilated-“ she announced, a look of surprise on her face. For Charlotte being a first time mother, she was progressing quite quickly, something nobody really expected.

Anne couldn’t help but give a little squeal of excitement, looking at Charlotte- but her excitement quickly melted to worry.

“Char?” She asked, kneeling down beside the pool- offering her hand out.

“Huh?” Charlotte blinked a few times, it felt as though her entire world had stopped when the midwife announced she could begin pushing. Despite working up to this moment, she was starting to get scared.

“Are you okay?” Anne asked, but before Charlotte could answer- another contraction- this time much stronger washed over her. It was quickly followed by the urge to push.

“Oh!” Charlotte cried out, a bit panicked as she moved in the water once more. Now on her hands and knees, her low sitting belly brushing against the warm water.

Jumping back, Anne glanced worriedly at the midwife who was allowing Charlotte to move as she pleased.

Charlotte had fallen silent in her pushing, chin tucked to her chest.

Despite laboring quickly, the birthing was slow. Every so often she’d bulge with the head, but it’d immediately slip back in.

About 45 minutes of pushing on her hands and knees, the midwife decided to get her into a squat.

Getting up and out of the now cold birthing pool, she was squatting against the porch banister. Sweat dripped down her neck to which Anne hurriedly dabbed away with a cool washcloth.

Hands gripping the creaking wood, Charlotte gave a hard push- finally feeling something begin to happen. The teardrop shape of the baby’s head bulging against her lips.

“Shit!!” Charlotte squealed at the sudden pressure, her legs threatening to buckle as Anne moved to support her by the hips. Rubbing gentle counter pressure into her back, while speaking soft praises.

Though Charlotte was barely listening, only focusing on delivering the head that was slowly opening around her tight lips.

“Nice and slow pushes-“ the midwife instructed, still being hands off as she watched the head reach its widest point.

By this point, Charlotte was exhausted. Tear stained face resting against the railing of the porch, trying to catch her breath. Her body screamed at her to push, to which she fought down- not wanting to tear.

“Ohhh..” she moaned out suddenly, body seizing up as she pushed, the head suddenly popping out with a gush of fluids.

“Damn it!” She cried out, chest now heaving with each breath. She was so close yet it felt so far away from meeting her baby.

She couldn’t hear Anne or the midwife’s encouraging words through her hazy pained mind. Her only goal was to deliver the shoulders.

After making sure the cord was clear, she gave another push.

It all happened so fast, and the next thing she knew she was holding a squalling newborn up to her chest.

In the muggy summer evening, Charlotte had successfully delivered a healthy baby girl.